F*&% a dime...I'm a, er, silver quarter?

In 4 days I turn 25 years old. Actually, that should read: In 4 days, I turn 25 years old?!?!?

The Bible says that the Lord looks after babies and fools. Perhaps I'm worried because with each passing birthday I realize that I am (hopefully!) becoming less and less of either?!?!

More later....

Trent Jackson is on Fire!

He calls himself the gay Wendy Williams. 'Nuff said.


Shout out to my new friend Mr. (or Miss, I guess, depending on who you ask) Trent Jackson, without whom the blog world would be much less interesting and scandalous. Most of ya'll who currently read my blog probably do so because of him, or at least you already know how F-A-B-O he is. No need to preach to the choir. But if you don't know, check him out. He does these interview thingys that are quite interesting.

So, in honor of Trent Jackson, I will list my favorite A and B list celeb rumors, gossip and interesting occurances:

1.)The supposed existence of a tape featuring rapper Loon taking it up the rear from psueduo-rapper P. Diddy. Coincidentally, Wendy Williams is the alleged source of this info.

2.)The picture of Fred (Limp Bizkit) Durst's weenie that someone hacked from his camera fone. I've got the pic for interested parties... 0-:-)

3.)Bobby Brown talking on his reality show about digging that doodie outta Whitney's tail when she was constipated. That's LOVE, honey.

3.5.) The rumor that Whitney is replacing Paula Adbul-Clark on the next American Idol.

4.)Pepa (from Salt n Pepa) on the new season of VH1's "The Surreal Life". She looks 110% better than ever in life. I'm talking fresh two toned weave and everything. I am so glad she's softened up. After a few episodes, the show has brought up Pepa's celebrity stock while bringing down Janice Dickinsons. Janice shoulda kept her ass where it was: "ANTM".

5.)FOX is making Paris and Nicole fulfill their contracts for another season of "The Simple Life." Since the ladies are not on speaking terms, FOX is getting creative with ideas for the next season's theme, including the Paris and Nicole making up and Paris and Nicole planning their upcoming weddings (seperately, of course).

Here's to Trent Jackson, bitch!

Supersize My Income

My college financial aid residual money is about spent up, and my mother says I need to get a job. "Even if it's just McDonalds or something," she says.

I went to the McDonalds by campus on Monday and I was hired without so much as an interview. Well, she did ask what size shirt I wear, which didn't really make a difference because all they had in stock were Smalls anyway and I am clearly no one's small... This was probably warning sign number one. I don't remember much of what happened next...She said something about $5 an hour [yes, five dollars] and everything else is a blur.

I've never made anything close to minimum wage in the almost 11 years I have been in the work force. My goodness, I miss the comfort of working in a cozy, technology-equipped office at my neighborhood nonprofit. It's so tempting right now to say fukk this college shit and go back to working full time and living comfortably. But then I remember that a boy can only make it so far without a stupid degree. All this knowledge, passion and experience I have, it'd be a crying shame if the only thing to keep me from a lucrative and influential career is my inpatience with higher education. I am fenda start waiting tables or selling sex or sumthing, cuz a brutha needs some income. I'm a Party Monster, so being broke is truly a scary concept to me.

If I Were a Poet or There May Be a Reason Why

I saw Nikki Giovanni on Def Poetry the other day and it made me think of something. Back in like 2000 when I lived in DC and was still wet behind the ears, I met The Greatest Poet of All Time Nikki Giovanni at a conference for a national youth organization. I had just been elected a youth board member and Miss Giovanni was a luncheon speaker or sumthing. As the title of my blog hints, "Ego Trip" has been my favorite poem since childhood, as it was the first bit of poetry to which I could actually relate (blush). Appropriately, I was delighted at the opportunity to meet the woman who has written my manifesto. She was a delightful woman and she autographed for me a program booklet or sumthing, which I long ago misplaced.

In the years since, I've discovered more of her (and others') poetry. If there is to be one single other work that I relate to and appreciate as much as that first poem, here it follows. My only question is why is it taking the rest of the world, AND ESPECIALLY BLACK FOLK, so long to figure out what Nikki Giovanni realized some 30 years ago?

A Poem/Because It Came As A Suprise To Me

By Nikki Giovanni


homosexuality

(an invention of saul

as played to perfection by the pope)

is two people

of similar sex

DOING IT

that`s all

Visitation of Spirits or "No, thanks. I'll stand."

So, I go to visit my mother yesterday as I try to do everyday, but on Sundays especially.

"Have a seat," she says. "I have something to tell you."

Now, I don't know about ya'll, but ever since childhood there have been two things that this son dreads hearing from his mother:

1.) My presence being requested via my full name: "First Middle Last, get in here right now!"

2.) and any variation of "Sit down. We need to talk."

Both situations usually ended with bad news or a sore bottom. So here I was yesterday -- at nearly 25 years old -- nervously taking a seat so my mother could to talk to (or at) me.

"Is it good or bad," I asked, in case I needed to exercise my adulthood ability to bypass the convo, exit the premises and return my headquarters should I discover that there may be disappointment -- or discipline --awaiting.

As it turns out, my grandmother (July 19, 1925 - Dec. 15, 2004) visited her early that morning with a message for me. Nana says that she wants me to finish school this time and she says that I will be successful in the field of Communications, though she doesn't remember my specific arena. She wants me to do well and school and in life.

My mom also told me that in life we can't choose our mother and fathers and she apologized for the lousy job my biological father has done. Of course, she didn't need to be sorry for the actions of my father, but she says that Nana told her to apologize for that.

I guess I haven't fully dealt with my grandmother's passing from cancer. I'm too busy trying to be strong for my mother, who cared for my bed-riden grandmother for the last 6 months of her life. This from the woman who passed along her fear of all things medical to me! I wonder, though, why Nana didn't visit me? I miss her terribly and I sometimes worry that when I close my eyes I may no longer be able to visualize her face. And it's only been a few months. Perhaps Nana knew, though, that Ma needed to see her more than I did. Maybe she knew that after all these years Mom still needed any encourgaing word from her mother just as I do.

Anyhow, thanks for thinking of me Nana. You stepped in because you knew what weighed on my head and my heart; You reassured me that I am not forgotten. And I promise to do well in school and in life...I mean if I didn't listen to you while you were here, I'd have to be a fool not to heed some celestial advice. You always said a hard head makes for a soft ass. LOL.

Thanks for the visit, Nana. I'm willing to sit down and talk whenever you wanna.

Langston Hughes - The Negro Mother
Children, I come back today
To tell you a story of the long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that the race might live and grow.
Look at my face -- dark as the night --
Yet shining like the sun with love's true light.
I am the dark girl who crossed the red sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the free.
I am the woman who worked in the field
Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield.
I am the one who labored as a slave,
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave --
Children sold away from me, I'm husband sold, too.
No safety , no love, no respect was I due.
Three hundred years in the deepest South:
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth .
God put a dream like steel in my soul.
Now, through my children, I'm reaching the goal.
Now, through my children, young and free,
I realized the blessing deed to me.
I couldn't read then. I couldn't write.
I had nothing, back there in the night.
Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears,
But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.
Sometimes, the road was hot with the sun,
But I had to keep on till my work was done:
I had to keep on! No stopping for me --
I was the seed of the coming Free.
I nourished the dream that nothing could smother
Deep in my breast -- the Negro mother.
I had only hope then , but now through you,
Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true:
All you dark children in the world out there,
Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow --
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.
Make of my pass a road to the light
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night.
Lift high my banner out of the dust.
Stand like free men supporting my trust.
Believe in the right, let none push you back.
Remember the whip and the slaver's track.
Remember how the strong in struggle and strife
Still bar you the way, and deny you life --
But march ever forward, breaking down bars.
Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.
Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers
Impel you forever up the great stairs --
For I will be with you till no white brother
Dares keep down the children of the Negro Mother.

Let's be Frank...

Aight, so here goes nuthin:

I've had this problem with inspiration lately. Seems I get all excited about this and that and making this happen and starting that project...only to look back a few weeks (or months) later and wonder what happen. Seems the fire in my belly and the oil in my midnight lamp were long ago extinguished. This explains why my first and only post prior to this one was almost 2 months ago.

I've been peeping the webspots of a few other people for quite some time now. I was particularly inspired to start my own after reading that of Frank Leon Roberts for a while. Even though I am back here in boring ass Kentucky, I still consider myself extremely progressive and I try to keep up with all the goings on of the Social Justice movement. I've known of Frank Leon Roberts for sometime, firstly as a board member of the National Black Justice Coalition when they first came around a few years ago, and then as a "ball kid" in the house of Khan. Needless to say I was in awe of the notion of a young black brother doing big things with his life while being in the life. For the sake of space, check out his blog's bio and see what I mean.

I say all that to say that I recently read a remark by Frank Leon Roberts that referred to a blog network -- a circle, if you will -- of progressive, intelligent black gay men and I decided that I MUST become a link in this brotherhood. Trivial as it sounds, I'm stuck here in good ol' Ken-Tuck-Kee and now that I'm back in school it doesn't look like I'll be going anywhere anytime soon. I'm SO afraid of closing my eyes one night and awaking the next day as just another one of these apathetic, uninspired don't-know-which-way-is-up sorry ass Kentucky niggas.

So, here goes nuthin, folks. Even if no one ever reads a word of what I write here, at least I've allowed myself an opportunity to vent. And believe me, I got lots to vent about. I've got an awfully lot to motivate me, but nothing to inspire me.

Knock knock, Mr. Roberts. Your circle got room for one more?