I’ve been angry as of late blog family, can’t lie. Livid, in fact.
There’s a random collection of instances bothering me. For example ex-boyfriends; the U.S. government shutting down because humans are predominately corrupt imbeciles; Miley Cyrus’s ass being on the front of any and every publication across the United States of America.
PS. The word “twerk” makes me throw up in my mouth. All I know is my Jamaican sisters have been shaking what Momma gave them far before any skinny white girl flapped her cheeks in booty shorts.
Exhibit A: (more…)
at first glance
There’s a girl on the other side of a Hell’s Kitchen courtyard who smokes cigarettes out of her window while I blow puffs of something much thicker.
And while I see her, I know she sees me, and it turns into this hide and seek game of ducking behind curtains while pretending to open and close sliding glass doors.
But it’s evident that we see each other. And while I am unable to hone in on her blinking at me, I still somehow sense the dust off of her eyelashes, and although she can’t see it, she knows I’m blinking back.
In fact, I might have even nodded. (more…)
Yesterday on my way to eat Spanish food on restaurant row, I was pleasantly ambushed by a group of dancing boys flashing their abs in a variety of fleshy contortions.
I must direct your attention to the accompanying photos blog family. Note the lack of cardboard. Homeboys were straight snaking on cement. It was a remarkable beginning to my Friday-eve celebrations.
On that note, HAPPY FRIDAY Y’ALL! (more…)
Namaste blog family
I was thinking of how divine it was those weeks that I had no telephone. However, being a lover of gadgets, and one who enjoys getting my Instagram on – I understand the purpose of maintaining the small plastic device that stays nested in my handbag. So instead of tossing the phone once and for all, I decided to delete all of my contacts instead. (more…)
The first time, you tell everyone you know. Anyone you can think of. People you’re close with. People you just met. Family members. Your therapist.
The second time, you only tell your best friend. And the third time, you don’t tell anyone. Not one single person.
That’s when you decide to stop talking all together.
You realize you have grown enough to acknowledge your presence as a statistic. And while age also grants the ability to easily identify what makes you unique, in your younger years – you thought it was everything.
You walk through Central Park on a balmy summer night. It’s too late for anyone to be there. There are homeless people sleeping on the small green rolling hills. The United States is one of the only nations on the planet with overweight homeless people. A lot of the ones you walk by are wearing nicer shoes than you are.
In a way, you fell envious. You imagine a divine existence with no responsibilities and zero consequences. You hear someone ask you for a dollar and wonder what makes the stranger assume you have one. You have an apartment. You have a wardrobe of clothing nice enough to prevent anyone from asking you too many questions. You have a job and a dog; more secrets buried than the Catholic Church. (more…)