Sunday Mail

This is an artist's rendition of me and my close friends planning to board a fully operational mothership the-fuck-up-outta here. Strawberry fields, white rooms with black curtains, and aquaboogie await us. Activities will include sky-kissing, searching for white holes (if there are black ones, there must be white ones, right?) and keepin' it funky.






If you'd like to join us, hit me up at eccentricisajustaeuphemisim4weird@whoneedsdrugs.org.


Remember I said I saw Michael Wright from "The Five Heartbeats," "Sugar Hill," and "Oz?" This is the pic of him givin' a cool-ass b-day shoutout to my man Lou.

"Sugar Hill" was the first flick that almost made me cry. Never cried from a flick, but that came close. The way his pops took that dope to his vein, and died in front of his son at the end. Shiiiit. Watchin' movies like that on cable is almost like watchin' reality tv for real, for real, for some of us. Y'all don't even know! But movin' on...

I'm not gonna shorten my blog. It's for readers.

• Confession: I had a drink on Friday that was off of a "Sex and the City"-inspired menu. It was actually a shot - Liquid Cocaine, which had 151, peppermint shnapps, and hellfire. One did the trick. Had me feelin' like "Mr. Big" out that bee-ya-itch.
• Too many dance shows, folks, too many dance shows.
• Those who tell don't know, and those who know are named StarPower
• Gas is $11 a gallon in Turkey, $10 in France, and 12 cents in Venezuela. Do what you will with that info if you didn't have it already.
• Nigga, we know why Obama quit that Church. 'Cause niggas was about to make him not be President, which he might not be anyway. No further analysis required.
• Lots of shit in life don't require complicated answers, or advanced thinking. The shit that requires deeper thought, we simplify, and the shit that's easy to figure out, we complicate. Yes/no? Are the MTV Movie Awards on tonight? I'm all over that. I prefer the video jumpoffs, though.
• I bought new computer speakers; I knew it would make a difference in how much better my beats would sound, but wow! It's showtime muthafuckas.
• Should I let my former students read my blog? I may not have control over that anyway.
• I'm fine with someone not feelin' me. It's cool. You have your reasons. We'll co-exist, maybe even cooperate, but that's it. And then we'll move on. Wanting to be friends with everyone is fucking immature. Adults have enemies. It's just life. Doesn't mean they spend energy trying to make your life less enjoyable. They might, might not. Some people just won't like yo' ass for whatever reason. And as long as they do, they're an enemy. The mature thing is to not associate with them, or foster a relationship with them that prevents you from getting money or pussy. An enemy might be the best person to gain off of, b/c you won't feel remorse for using them. If they allow themselves to be used, they need to become a better enemy. Like, go to enemy school or something.
• I'm not a Denise Richards fan, never was, something about her, and I hate that she has a reality show. Same goes for the Lohan mom. But that's about as much of my energy as they'll get.
• Can't imagine there's a place with more flavors of stunning women than New York. On one block you'll see waspy, ethnically ambuigous, hood, shy, schoolgirl (of age, of course), trashy, homely, thick, skinny, model-type, milf, tomboy, everything. Awesome.
• I'm startin' that Masters Degree in Urban Ed in about 2 weeks! Let's get it!

I blogged before "T.E.C." It was on Friendster and MySpace. I wanna let y'all in further (pause...I know, I said I'm too mature for that, but it's fun to say sometimes, no matter how many fat poet girls get upset when I say it at shows) by re-posting old blogs to show you my mindstate back in '05 and '06. Here's my very first blog from July '05. I actually recited this as a paper, verbatim, in an English class during my last semester as an undergrad. Peep:

Limited Edition
My ‘Definitive Label’ in life will always be ‘Black Man,’ something I understand, and better learn to love, because it’s a title given to me; and when you give something a name, you possess a certain amount of power pertaining to that thing. So my mother, through her maternal powers, named me Roderick, and some colonists, (Irish or Scottish I presume) used their power to give my ancestors, the name Collins. Now, I’m defined by another title I didn’t give myself - Black man. I understand the slavemasters had the money and the power, and my mother was responsible for my life, so that was their claim to naming me, directly or indirectly. But now that I make my own money and I’m responsible for my own life, I want a say in how I’m labeled. Most people change their name, but I’m gonna work with that definitive label of ‘Black Man,’ also known as ‘Black Guy’ when coming out of the mouths of non-black comedians, ‘Brother’ or ‘Bro’ when coming out of the mouths of neo-hippies and black men who went to the Million Man March, or ‘Nigger’, when coming out of the mouth of Paris Hilton (though I wouldn’t be surprised if a coupla niggas have came into her mouth as well.) But listen, I didn’t come up here to rant and rave, like ‘Angry Black Man’ has been known to do. I feel like I have a helpful alternative to the label ‘Black Man,’ and the alternative is necessary. This is because some black dudes have an issue; like say something happened, and you hear a white person say “Oh, there was a Black Guy in there…” or when describing us, “You know, the Black dudes!” As a black person, you might be like “Oh, why she gotta say black guy?” or “Why he say it like that?!” Why? Because, that’s you’re definitive label, that’s why! What else should they say? It was the easiest thing to say, and it said all it needed to say about you.

You may or may not agree with what I’m saying, but consider this: How about, instead of ‘Black Man,’ (which I do like, it has a certain sense of force to it) how about we use “LIMITED EDITION?” Limited Edition Human Beings- “L.E.H.B.s” for short, or Limited Edition Homo Sapiens- “L.E.H.S.” for short. Now I know with that one, people will make jokes and says things like “you’re L.E.H.S. (less) of a person” or some dumb sh-t, but remember, we made black, which had nothing but bad connotations, beautiful. We can make L.E.H.S., more.
Now, “Limited Edition” says in the label, all it needs to say. When a limited edition of something is rolled out, it’s because it’s a little different, a little more special. It does everything the regular one does, but it might do a little more, look a little different. That’s us, Black Men. We gotta work a little harder than the regular American; we come in a different color than the regular American; you don’t see as many of us, you know on t.v. and in general; hell, they even try their hardest to keep us locked away, I guess for preservation or safekeeping. But like the most definitive aspect of anything labeled limited edition, we’re around for a much shorter amount of time than the regular American. White Americans’ lifespans are approaching 78, almost 80 years. Black Men reach 64, and that’s it. I’m not sure if that’s long enough to collect social security. So, appreciate the “Black Man” while you can, the Limited Edition Human Being, (“L.E.H.B.), aka the Limited Edition Homo Sapien (“L.E.H.S.”); we’re becoming more scarce everyday…

_____________________________________________________________

I know I talk a lot about gentrification, but as we look to purchase property for profit and prosperity, and eat out and lounge increasingly in neighborhoods folks wouldn't walk through a few years ago, and visit white friends in hoods that were traditionally never white-friend friendly, the subject's on my mind a lot. Not as much as hoping the Knicks draft well this year, nipple slips, or trying to lose the gut (I aint tryin' to look like R. Belly this summer), but enough to occupy a good amount of my thoughts. Know what? I can't be a gentrifier. Sort of like the "black people can't be racist" argument that states that racism reflects a postition of power. Only the group in power can discriminate based on race, so blacks can be prejudiced, but not racist. Similarly, I can't be a gentrifier because I am, and never have been, in a position to economically exploit those less fortunate. Not because I'm broke, but because I come from the exploited neighborhoods, I never left, and while I do have a comfortable household income (mostly due to the fact that me and the ol' lady split expenses, have no kids, relatively low debt, and don't try to live above our means), I wasn't born in any position of power. We have paid gentrifier-like rents, and moved into such apartments (i.e. the Harlem apartment they wanted us to pay $1900 a month for a one bedroom for that we still ended up payin' a grip for, that's literally a coupla blocks away from where I grew up, and my family pays under $600 month for a 3 bedroom for), but we are from the community. We would be reinvesting. Since we are of the community, if we profit through buying some shit up that many residents can't afford or aren't willing to take the risk to buy, then the community profits. 'Cause like I said, we are the community.


Better us than Ryan and Trish. And I aint got a beef w/Ryan and Trish. I would probably do the same if I were them. They'll get twice the space uptown than they get downtown for half the money, even though that half is still twice what uptowners are used to paying. Then Ry and Tri will bide their time 'til Conner, Amber, and Jordan and all the rest take the neighborhood over. They'll own it. And ownership is where it's at. 'Cause when you own shit, you have control. Money itself doesn't give you control. It's only as good as what you are able to own because of it. And if someone isn't willing to accept your money, what good does it do you? Ownership is what's up. A degree doesn't mean anything if you can't get a job, right? If someone wants to deny my black, tat-sportin'-ass a job and give it to a white, or just another, person who doesn't have a degree, I won't own a job. A job that could make me money, and help me own some shit. So this is what you need to do: find out how to own shit, b/c that's how you prosper, by owning. You shouldn't necessarily only learn how to make money. You should do that, b/c that's how you get to own shit, but sometimes you can bypass the money through bartering, work, or smarts. For instance, my homey owns a buncha fresh shirts that get him the same admiration that folks who pay big bucks for similar shirts get. He doesn't really buy them; he trades a service to a talented shirtmaker that only requires his time and natural abilities. Everyone can't do that, so they need money to own what they value, but he figured out how to own what he, and those like him, value, without paying much, if any money.

That's just an example. It won't always work. I'll need money to own property, of course, but I have an edge that will save me money. I know some rough, but up-and-coming neighborhoods, from living in them, or having friends who live in them. I didn't have a choice, I was poor. So I'm comfortable in these nabes, and I still have to go and live there. Other potential buyers will only hear about these nabes through people or publications, and will totally miss the boat on other nabes b/c they have no reason to ever discover anything about them. But I'll use my unfortunate upbringing as a plus, when it helps me to notice subtle changes in a certain hood that signal development, renewal, and future economic prosperity. Who will prosper? Honestly, the same people who always prosper in our class system, but folks like me don't even need a big piece, just a small piece that won't seem like a lot to a Trump, but will be more than enough for me to live it up. And that's what's up.

I'm StarPower, and I approve this message.