EVERYTHING IS MOVING BUT THE MONEY

I haven't updated in a minute.  I've been all tangled up in my boo.  Boo is a term I got from my sister to describe the midway point between jump off and boyfriend.  It's the modern version of the antiquated term lover.  I like having a boo.  It's comfortable and cozy.  All the benefits of a friend, without the official boyfriend title.  I don't like titles.  As soon as you place a label on something, as it attempts to define, it stunts and confines.  Titles are words.  Words are symbols and signs.  Meaningless in utterance, it's the heart that evokes them.

The term boo is cute and whimsical, just like we are.  No expectations, no obligations, everything is free flowing. And boy is it flowing.  Flowing so much, I feel when we get together--we stopped the world and we got off.  And left y'all there while we just do us.  I'm in the world right now and I can't take it.  Everything is in black and white, devoid of color.  I had to take a minute.  For though the magic of you is not with me; I am attempting to recreate it.

Boo, go to sleep tonight and dream us rich!  Just give me an idea: plant the seed and I'll be sure to make sure it germinates.  I'm waiting!

EMOTIONAL TERRORISTS: THE DARK SIDE OF LOVE

A friend sent me this text. I've transcribed it verbatim:

They brag to their peers oh how romantic sincere. They've been waiting praying for years. Here I appear. Calm their fears, whatever they say I hear. Gain their trust, to their heart I am near. Saying I love you too, begrudgingly with a sneer. Not after pussy, their mind I want to steer. Control and power has given me more of an erection for years. Cold and heartless immune to their tears. Sobbing, begging, asking why. I thought you weren't like other guys. No bitch I'm worse; I'm the devil in disguise.

My friend is an interesting guy. For as long as I've known him, he has always been infatuated with some woman. I have quite a few e-mails from him proclaiming various women as "the one".  And just as quickly as these relationships began, they ended. When I would call him and ask, "What happened?" Through the phone, I could imagine his shrug.  The woman had been discarded like a used tissue. His attitude: who cares.

I would feel sorry for the women. If you've ever read the "Art of Seduction", he fits the profile of the ideal lover.

Men like him are hard to spot. Because unlike a garden variety sociopath (that's how your text message read), when he tells these women how great they are, at the time he believes it.  It's hard to spot a liar when they aren't lying.  It's hard to spot a fraud when they are not being fake.  The sincerity they felt; it was real--for that moment.

I recently met this guy. And if you have been reading, it has gotten hot very quickly. I clicked with this guy because he felt so sincere. His words soothed any fears. He is easy to trust. Hmmm. So my body will keep going along for the ride (it's a really good one!).  But my mind will remain skeptic.  And my heart? I am keeping it tucked away in a safe place at home. I don't want to fall victim to an emotional terrorist.

Thanks for the reminder, friend. `

FORGIVENESS

Beware of people who constantly preach forgiveness. They will harm you intentionally and then try to manipulate you for the express purpose of holding you to standards; they do not hold for themselves. I know how to behave and if I harm you; it is deliberate and I am out to destroy you. Best believe, they are too. Unless they are a young child, or an animal; they know right from wrong. They just don't care enough about you to treat you with respect; they don't feel you are worthy. Reciprocate the action and see how forgiving they are of you.

Why do you hold them to such high regard and think so lowly of yourself? My energy is precious; it will be only extended to those who can replenish, no forgiveness. You are expendable.

COPYRIGHT 2010

Oh yea just because the symbol isn't there please be aware that's everything I've written is protected by copyright. Not just by the law of the land but by the energy of the spirit. Copy my shit if you dare but please be aware your whole family is hexed. Go buy some black clothes, and funeral plots and prepare for their imminent death. You don't believe me? You don't have to. I do, you are about to witness the power of my voodoo.

FIRST PARAGRAPH, FIRST DRAFT, FIRST EROTIC ROMANCE NOVEL

The most defining day of my life started out pretty unremarkable.  I had always dreamed about this day; I had created images of where it would happen, what I would wear and how I would have styled my hair.  It would happen at a restaurant; I would be waiting for my friend and you would be appear; my hair would be down and flowing, blown out straight. My outfit would be impeccable:  stylish and conservative yet still form fitting.  I knew just how you would be too.  I had imagined how you would look.  You would be tall, good looking, with an easy going smile and a workout physique.  Our attraction would be apparent at first sight, we both wouldn’t show it but we would feel it.  We’d give each other sheepish grins while trying to play it cool. You would fumble a little while you asked for my number and I would think it was cute.  We would be around the same age, you’d probably be a few years older, and I liked them older.  You would be well established: finished school, nice apartment, thriving career.  You would be everything I had ever wanted in a man and more.   And you were.  But it didn’t happen quite like that instead it happened like this.

THE UNDERGROUND HIP HOP SCENE

My good friend/bro in law, the aptly named Godhead the General, is a trailblazer in the underground hip hop scene.  I went to a couple of ciphers years ago and though I enjoyed them, it wasn't really my thing.  My sis called me a chicken head and I was like okay, "cheep, cheep."  She asked what happened to me.  I used to be like her, a real head.  But scouring college radios and hanging around the underground looking for real hip hop was no longer a priority for me like it was back in the day.  I no longer lived and breathed it, I just consumed it; therefore I would take what I could get.  I was in the mental state of who cares about the lyrics just give me a hot beat--something to shake my ass, I'm not trying to learn, for that I'll sit in class.  Boy, was I ignorant and my life reflected it: no substance, all image. 

Now this was about five or so years ago and while mainstream hip hop back then was not at its peak, it has declined even further.  The shit out right now is beyond weak--it's pathetic, there is absolutely no lyrical: abysmal.  I've recently started writing and now I pay extra special attention to the words used.  Music is not just to dance to, the original intent was to send a message.  The beat is a vehicle to drive the words past your conscious state.  After awhile you just don't hear the words, you unconsciously absorb them, digest them and then you are them in your head.  But not in reality, because while you're spending money you don't have trying to emulate what you see; these so-called MCs on TV are getting it for free.  They might not even be getting it at all, what they portray is often rented, or the IRS is calling--they are overextended.

Now here are some links to REAL HIP HOP.  Hip hop is an art form.  It's poetry.  It sends a message of life: the story of the soul evoked from the depth of the lyricist's being to connect all that listen in a circle of Truth, Honor, Originality and Realism.  It's only with these four components can we collectively raise our consciousness and transcend, not just pretend.

Expand your mind, open up your heart and just  listen. We can all relate, so let's all connect.


Thor Takeover: http://www.thortakeoverrecords.com/fr_home.cfm

Soundbwoikillaz: www.soundbwoikillaz.com

MagnumO: http://www.myspace.com/60683144

Hustle N. Flow 2.0 : http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/HUSTLE-N-FLOW-20/260232668459?ref=nf


Everybody comment and add your link: share your truth, share your vision, share your love.