Ladies, I said ladies! You ever hopped up out the bed, turned your swag on, took a look in the mirror - butt ass nekkid (maybe with a hot ass pair of pumps on) and said, "Damn! I'm a bad bytch!"?
Even though you ain't even at the size you wanna be? Even though you're soft in places where Beyonce might be hard? Even though you have a lil' cellulite, your booty jiggles and your girls don't sit as high as they once did? Even though society might try to tell you otherwise - you ever just looked at yourself in the mirror and thought you were the shyt? Not on some 'I'm better than you'. But just on some I love myself. I have. I've even done a little dance in the mirror. Posed for the cameras, now click. And it feels good.
And for those of you who haven't - try it someday. Take a good look at yourself, take it all in, and then embrace what you see. Last Fourth of July, I put up Outkast's Liberation, cause too many times we as Black people feel we still ain't free in this country. But then we got us a President and apparently we'z free now. Tee hee. So I'm putting the song up again this year for a different reason, for us ladies to focus on the following words: "Can't worry 'bout what another nygga think, now that's liberation and baby I want it!" So I reiterate what Courvoisier said a few weeks ago. Love yourself bytches.* And I'm out this mothafcuka. Drops mic and goes back to enjoying a drank in New Orleans with the other ladies from the 5 Spot.
That's my time y'all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
*And I'm only calling you bytch cause I don't know your names individually.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
les bon temps rouler...
My sincere apologies folks, -- I'm in Nawlins and my state of mind isn't right. I'll be on point next week.
Have a safe and happy 4th of July!
cheers,
Bellini
P.S. I'm not sure if Minty will post --she's in court as we speak, gotta move those dockets.
Have a safe and happy 4th of July!
cheers,
Bellini
P.S. I'm not sure if Minty will post --she's in court as we speak, gotta move those dockets.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
A Paper Torn
Just like the BET awards, its now my turn to share my Michael Jackson moment! Watch out for the bandwagon!
I first learned about Michael in front of a giant floor model television (you know the ones that took most of the living room and held everything from family pictures, to a newer television on top) at my grandparents’ house. My cousin, who is a couple months older loved her some Thriller, for me, it was all about Billy Jean. Before knowing anything about paternity tests or baby momma dramas, I knew I loved walking on the title floor squares-wishing they would light up. And because adult folks love getting free entertainment from the antics of their kids, I was totally encouraged to sing, throw my pretend hat and spin around until I fell. There was laughter, there was clapping and most importantly there were some good times! And that’s what Michael’s music conjurers up for me, good times at the party, good times at the cookout, good times dancing in the car at a red light while a cop looks over, smiles and shakes his head (that was just Friday night).
Mike’s music was great but his life definitely had its ups and downs. As I listened to the media folks a lot of outlets in mainstream America could not resist bringing up old shyt- the child molestation case, his changing appearance, the fact that he may or may not be broke. Meanwhile, back in the Black community there was nothing but love. Sure, during Mike’s life we all cracked jokes, talked about how weird he was, wondered how unhuman he was going to make himself look after it was all said and done. But in my community, in death there was nothing but respect for a man who gave us good times. Even my pastor was moonwalking in the pulpit on Sunday…of course he tied it all together with Jesus and our salvation…but still, some Amens were shouted and everyone got up on their feet.
One of the things that I have been thinking about for the past few days was Mike’s reputation. While we all loved Michael Jackson the entertainer, we knew something wasn’t quite right with the man. It’s interesting to me that even in his death the downs he experienced in his life are eclipsing his philanthropy, the conscious messages in his music or even his humanitarian work. There is an Asian (can’t recall if its Chinese or Japanese) saying that addresses speaking badly about people. In the beginning, it’s like Michael Jackson was a whole piece of paper. And over years pieces of him were torn up and scattered around by lawsuits, leeches, loneliness and low self esteem. And as the saying goes, no matter how long you search for these torn scattered little pieces you cannot put the paper back whole again. Why? Because some pieces are taken by others or destroyed in their environment. Some pieces you just can’t recover…no matter how hard you try. And I think that maybe in the end Mike was just tired of trying to get back the pieces that were lost. But me no know, I’m a 20 something in DC who only knew Michael Jackson through his music. But I hope that he has peace and is finally whole now.
See You In Seven
I first learned about Michael in front of a giant floor model television (you know the ones that took most of the living room and held everything from family pictures, to a newer television on top) at my grandparents’ house. My cousin, who is a couple months older loved her some Thriller, for me, it was all about Billy Jean. Before knowing anything about paternity tests or baby momma dramas, I knew I loved walking on the title floor squares-wishing they would light up. And because adult folks love getting free entertainment from the antics of their kids, I was totally encouraged to sing, throw my pretend hat and spin around until I fell. There was laughter, there was clapping and most importantly there were some good times! And that’s what Michael’s music conjurers up for me, good times at the party, good times at the cookout, good times dancing in the car at a red light while a cop looks over, smiles and shakes his head (that was just Friday night).
Mike’s music was great but his life definitely had its ups and downs. As I listened to the media folks a lot of outlets in mainstream America could not resist bringing up old shyt- the child molestation case, his changing appearance, the fact that he may or may not be broke. Meanwhile, back in the Black community there was nothing but love. Sure, during Mike’s life we all cracked jokes, talked about how weird he was, wondered how unhuman he was going to make himself look after it was all said and done. But in my community, in death there was nothing but respect for a man who gave us good times. Even my pastor was moonwalking in the pulpit on Sunday…of course he tied it all together with Jesus and our salvation…but still, some Amens were shouted and everyone got up on their feet.
One of the things that I have been thinking about for the past few days was Mike’s reputation. While we all loved Michael Jackson the entertainer, we knew something wasn’t quite right with the man. It’s interesting to me that even in his death the downs he experienced in his life are eclipsing his philanthropy, the conscious messages in his music or even his humanitarian work. There is an Asian (can’t recall if its Chinese or Japanese) saying that addresses speaking badly about people. In the beginning, it’s like Michael Jackson was a whole piece of paper. And over years pieces of him were torn up and scattered around by lawsuits, leeches, loneliness and low self esteem. And as the saying goes, no matter how long you search for these torn scattered little pieces you cannot put the paper back whole again. Why? Because some pieces are taken by others or destroyed in their environment. Some pieces you just can’t recover…no matter how hard you try. And I think that maybe in the end Mike was just tired of trying to get back the pieces that were lost. But me no know, I’m a 20 something in DC who only knew Michael Jackson through his music. But I hope that he has peace and is finally whole now.
See You In Seven
Monday, June 29, 2009
I <3 MJ
A couple of weeks ago, I started writing letters to my friends titled “When We First Met…” The purpose of these letters is to document the moment that I realized their existence. After loosing one of THE GREATEST Entertainer of our times, I thought it was only fitting that this morning I share my letter to Michael Jackson. Here goes…
Dear Michael,
When I first realized you existed was the day my parents got satellite TV. I was hiding on the side of the refrigerator, peeking around the corner to see the TV and there you were dancing in the subway station. I was 6 and in love!!! I don’t know if you remember but this video, it was like 15 minutes long. Who’s bad Wisley? (chuckle) “You doing wrong!!”
From that day Mikey, I was so curious about you. I started going through my parents’ record collection to find this classic. This one might have been a couple years before my time but this is MY FAVORITE MJ album! “I can’t help it even if I wanted to… I wouldn’t help it if I could.” NO question. I have no problem taking this to an abandoned island. I begged my dad to play this over and over. I was singing live you life off the wall before I even knew what that meant… “Life is short, live it off the wall!!”
Dad said, we have that other song you like too baby girl. That was the Thriller record. I was like “WOW! This man is AWESOME!” Every song is GREAT! And you are the cutest man I have ever seen in a white suit. (chuckle)
At the time I wasn’t a fan of P.Y.T, Beat It was my jam and I still hadn’t seen Thriller yet. But I remember when I did. I was by my best friend’s, her grandmother was napping and she said let’s watch this tape my brother left. It was Thriller! I covered my eyes for the majority of the video. We played it like 4 times. Dang that was a good and scary at the same time! But back to P.Y.T… this one has a special place in my heart because it was the song that my uncle danced with me at my cousin’s birthday party. I still remember that because my cousin was older than me and I was the youngest one there, no one to play with. I will never forget you Michael.
For the prep rally in 96, I revived Beat It, choreographed a dance and all for the school the day before the track meet.
Don’t Stop ‘til You Get Enough and Rock with You, had me convinced I meant to be a 70s baby. In fact, my default dance move is an adaptation of the moves in these videos to this day. I still rock like you! (chuckle) I have cried to that note, Roooooooccck with you… Mike
I spent countless lunch breaks trying to perfect the patented anti-gravity lean from Smooth Criminal’s music video.
I spent countless lunch breaks trying to perfect the patented anti-gravity lean from Smooth Criminal’s music video. Shook my body down to the ground. :)Then the summer before high school I choreographed, what I called at the time, a spiritual dance to Keep the Faith. You couldn’t tell me Remember the time was not the ish!!! Used Dangerous for countless rounds of name that tone on the telephone. (chuckle) Oh man Michael, my first boyfriend sang me “You Are Not Alone”! That was truly an amazing collaboration with R. Kelly.
Urgh! I could go on forever with memories of each and every one of your songs. But there is one thing that is true… I will never ever forget the effect you had on my life. The effect your music will have on my children’s life. I don’t have to defend your music MJ! I don’t need to blame it on the alcohol but I will blame it on the boogie. (chuckle)
But don't worry, I remembered what you said... we can change the world!
No one delivers a message like you Mike! I am almost stop being a girlfriend when she tried to say you weren't all that. Are you serious? People who are not feeling this lost, have not taken a moment to listen to his music again. All I have to say is "Can you feel it?"
Much luv until next week... peace :)
P.S. Hope you got my message I left you at Apollo. I couldn't ask for a better place to be stranded without an umbrella than with a group of your fans sining at the top of our lungs while a little boy danced your moves to all of your tunes. I know you will live forever.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Love Training
I will be in New Orleans in less than one week celebrating another Fourth of July with the one and only, Ms. Mint Julep. We have spent the past two Fourth holidays together and they have been quite interesting to say the least. Both years I have gone out of town with plans to just chill and have a good time for the night/weekend. And yet on both occasions, I have met what I thought at the time was a great catch of man, so numbers were exchanged, and a long distance dance/courtship/what the fcuk have I gotten myself into began.
First came the tingly feelings. The fun and thrill of getting to know a new person. The walking on sunshine. The like, the lust and I wonder if this could one day be love thoughts. But then came the drama. Right on time and all the way live! The miscommunication. Or lack thereof. The muhfcuka is you crazy? The this can’t be life moments. No really, this can’t be my life.
Heart was splintered. Tears were shed. Cussing was done. Fcuk that nygga was the refrain from friends and my mama. Teedra Moses songs stayed on repeat. Prayers were uttered. Sadness settled in and tried to make a home. And I started thinking that me and “celebrating” this thing called Independence Day were cursed. Got me vowing that next week, I will tell any man I meet in New Orleans that, naw I don’t have a phone. No email either. Nope, no facebook page. And a sista lives on Mars, so rent you a spaceship if you tryna come see me.
But seriously, as this July Fourth approaches, bursting with possibilities, I find myself looking back at how what were supposed to be simple out of town jaunts to have a little fun turned into more than I could have ever imagined. Thinking how I then put my expectations on the totally unexpected. And then witnessed in awe what did and did not come into fruition. Remarking on how so much can happen in just one year. Let alone two. How things can grow. Then shift. Mutate. Change completely. Become unrecognizable. End. How you can think you’ve got it all figured out, only to make the same mistakes. And then wonder if you are becoming the definition of insanity.
While rehashing the most recent dissolved relationship with a friend, I sighed, “Well I guess you live and you learn. And she responded, “And then you get luvs.” “Perfection,” I said. Cause even though it’s from a diapers commercial, these experiences have me feeling like I’ve been wearing “love” pull ups. Seems that I wasn’t quite ready for the real thing. Had to go through some shyt, just to be changed.
Having to wear these training pants before getting the big girl panties has me sorting out in a practical, grown up way, what I want and need from a relationship. What I deserve. Truly (and finally) understanding that communication is key. That being true to one’s feelings is crucial. That compromise is a four letter word. That this grown up, real life shyt is no joke. That every event is preceded by a sign. We’re all clairvoyant if we'd only know it. © Toni Cade Bambara That if a man want you, he will choose you and if he ain’t really chose you yet, then you ain’t the one. That you can pontificate all you want on what you would do if this or that happened, but when placed in said situation, you may in fact let your own self down. That you think you know, but you have no idea.
And so whilst at the time, it felt like I was really going through it, that my heart was shattered beyond repair, me thinks (and have decided) these luv pullups were actually padding for when I fell, to ensure that I wouldn’t be bruised for life. Wouldn’t hold grudges. Wouldn’t fight people in the streets. They have served as protection from leaks of cynicism and jadedness. Kept me dry. Sane. And most importantly still hopeful. Hopeful that there is someone out there just for me. And that all of these experiences, no matter how bad they were, no matter how much it hurt, in the end have a purpose - to mold me into a woman who will know better. Do better. Live better. Expect better. And get better. Got me now believing that you live and you learn. And then you get love. Real love.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Epilogue - Everyone has their own memories of HIM. The King of Pop. Mine are: my cousin babysitting us and playing the Thriller record (RECORD!!!) and her making me sing Paul McCartney's part from the Girl is Mine over and over and over again. Playing the Motown Christmas record (RECORD!!!) as a child, beginning right after Thanksgiving and loving every Jackson 5 song. Loving that lean in the Smooth Criminal video. Amaretto putting in the Thriller CD (CD!!) when nothing was on the radio and letting that joint ride! Riding the train to work with Baby be Mine on repeat. And grooving to my all time favorite MJ song that always brightens my mood, makes me smile and then wanna get up and dance. Rest in peace Michael Jackson. You were a soundtrack to my childhood. Loved by people of all generations, races, and cultures. The best who ever did it. You will be missed.
First came the tingly feelings. The fun and thrill of getting to know a new person. The walking on sunshine. The like, the lust and I wonder if this could one day be love thoughts. But then came the drama. Right on time and all the way live! The miscommunication. Or lack thereof. The muhfcuka is you crazy? The this can’t be life moments. No really, this can’t be my life.
Heart was splintered. Tears were shed. Cussing was done. Fcuk that nygga was the refrain from friends and my mama. Teedra Moses songs stayed on repeat. Prayers were uttered. Sadness settled in and tried to make a home. And I started thinking that me and “celebrating” this thing called Independence Day were cursed. Got me vowing that next week, I will tell any man I meet in New Orleans that, naw I don’t have a phone. No email either. Nope, no facebook page. And a sista lives on Mars, so rent you a spaceship if you tryna come see me.
But seriously, as this July Fourth approaches, bursting with possibilities, I find myself looking back at how what were supposed to be simple out of town jaunts to have a little fun turned into more than I could have ever imagined. Thinking how I then put my expectations on the totally unexpected. And then witnessed in awe what did and did not come into fruition. Remarking on how so much can happen in just one year. Let alone two. How things can grow. Then shift. Mutate. Change completely. Become unrecognizable. End. How you can think you’ve got it all figured out, only to make the same mistakes. And then wonder if you are becoming the definition of insanity.
While rehashing the most recent dissolved relationship with a friend, I sighed, “Well I guess you live and you learn. And she responded, “And then you get luvs.” “Perfection,” I said. Cause even though it’s from a diapers commercial, these experiences have me feeling like I’ve been wearing “love” pull ups. Seems that I wasn’t quite ready for the real thing. Had to go through some shyt, just to be changed.
Having to wear these training pants before getting the big girl panties has me sorting out in a practical, grown up way, what I want and need from a relationship. What I deserve. Truly (and finally) understanding that communication is key. That being true to one’s feelings is crucial. That compromise is a four letter word. That this grown up, real life shyt is no joke. That every event is preceded by a sign. We’re all clairvoyant if we'd only know it. © Toni Cade Bambara That if a man want you, he will choose you and if he ain’t really chose you yet, then you ain’t the one. That you can pontificate all you want on what you would do if this or that happened, but when placed in said situation, you may in fact let your own self down. That you think you know, but you have no idea.
And so whilst at the time, it felt like I was really going through it, that my heart was shattered beyond repair, me thinks (and have decided) these luv pullups were actually padding for when I fell, to ensure that I wouldn’t be bruised for life. Wouldn’t hold grudges. Wouldn’t fight people in the streets. They have served as protection from leaks of cynicism and jadedness. Kept me dry. Sane. And most importantly still hopeful. Hopeful that there is someone out there just for me. And that all of these experiences, no matter how bad they were, no matter how much it hurt, in the end have a purpose - to mold me into a woman who will know better. Do better. Live better. Expect better. And get better. Got me now believing that you live and you learn. And then you get love. Real love.
That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!
Epilogue - Everyone has their own memories of HIM. The King of Pop. Mine are: my cousin babysitting us and playing the Thriller record (RECORD!!!) and her making me sing Paul McCartney's part from the Girl is Mine over and over and over again. Playing the Motown Christmas record (RECORD!!!) as a child, beginning right after Thanksgiving and loving every Jackson 5 song. Loving that lean in the Smooth Criminal video. Amaretto putting in the Thriller CD (CD!!) when nothing was on the radio and letting that joint ride! Riding the train to work with Baby be Mine on repeat. And grooving to my all time favorite MJ song that always brightens my mood, makes me smile and then wanna get up and dance. Rest in peace Michael Jackson. You were a soundtrack to my childhood. Loved by people of all generations, races, and cultures. The best who ever did it. You will be missed.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
some things i thought i'd never do
for the last few days, black women have been buzzing about jill scott's latest revelation: she's a single mom. jill and drummer boy have called it quits.
some folks wonder was it all just a show? was the good love, the engagement, and the matching tatts just a smokescreen for the baby. let the comments on essence.com tell it, some women are mad as hell. how could she do it? didn't she say, "I can even raise the child we'll make, make sure he's loved and knows what God gave us, I can teach him how to walk and stand but he needs you to help him be a man, we need you."
or did she?
wasn't that just in a song she wrote? for our entertainment and encouragement. was it the real real truth? did jill scott deep down in her soul tell herself that she'd never be somebody's baby's mama? or did folks just see jill, all natural and glowing, luxuriously voluptuous, empowered and independent, all mother earthish and assume that "she knew better." that a woman who could write lyrics that seemed to express exactly how a woman was feeling would never get caught out there thinking she loved somebody, wanted to be with him for the rest of her life and then end up raising his child alone.
just look to e. badu for guidance. 3 babies from 3 baby's daddies. "i dont take nothin that [chic] say to heart, not like im better, just that we all full of contradictions." (c) rum punch.
contradictions indeed...
as women age and divorce and have desires for babies, we _________ [fill in some word that doesn't have compromise's negative connotations].
we mellow
we grow
we change what we want and desire.
hell, we compromise.
cause we probably started off from some unrealistic black knight in shining armor place.
we make mistakes.
we realize that love is complex as hell and that relationships take work
and we decide whether we will or will not be bothered
or if we'd just rather have the baby, please and thanks...
how far away from your "I'd never do...'s" have you gotten? for the good or for the bad?
some folks wonder was it all just a show? was the good love, the engagement, and the matching tatts just a smokescreen for the baby. let the comments on essence.com tell it, some women are mad as hell. how could she do it? didn't she say, "I can even raise the child we'll make, make sure he's loved and knows what God gave us, I can teach him how to walk and stand but he needs you to help him be a man, we need you."
or did she?
wasn't that just in a song she wrote? for our entertainment and encouragement. was it the real real truth? did jill scott deep down in her soul tell herself that she'd never be somebody's baby's mama? or did folks just see jill, all natural and glowing, luxuriously voluptuous, empowered and independent, all mother earthish and assume that "she knew better." that a woman who could write lyrics that seemed to express exactly how a woman was feeling would never get caught out there thinking she loved somebody, wanted to be with him for the rest of her life and then end up raising his child alone.
just look to e. badu for guidance. 3 babies from 3 baby's daddies. "i dont take nothin that [chic] say to heart, not like im better, just that we all full of contradictions." (c) rum punch.
contradictions indeed...
as women age and divorce and have desires for babies, we _________ [fill in some word that doesn't have compromise's negative connotations].
we mellow
we grow
we change what we want and desire.
hell, we compromise.
cause we probably started off from some unrealistic black knight in shining armor place.
we make mistakes.
we realize that love is complex as hell and that relationships take work
and we decide whether we will or will not be bothered
or if we'd just rather have the baby, please and thanks...
how far away from your "I'd never do...'s" have you gotten? for the good or for the bad?
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
mortal sensibilities
I remember one day in my youth asking my uncle, "Does it storm in the Atlantic Ocean." And he replied, "Why wouldn't it." And my youth's naivete, couldn't fully grasp what he wanted me to learn. With a few more minutes of coaching he explained to me that an ocean is a huge mass of water and precipitation can take place there as it would on land. So, I've always kept that morsel of information in the back of my mind. When ever meterologists inform the public of weather advisories, I take heed and hew to their instructions. And now I'm baffled because we still don't know what happened to Air France Flight 447.
The plane literally disappeared over the Atlantic Ocean -- in those waters between Brazil (eastern coast of South America) and Africa -- i.e. trade ship route. I don't know, I believe the waters between Brazil and Africa are sacred considering the history of the slave trade. No satellites, radar, we got nothing. Freak of nature, perhaps. Maybe 20 years down the line, we'll get a clue to shed some light on the tragic crash.
And then yesterday, in the nation's capital two trains collide. Bizarre. We don't know why, although we're told those things aren't supposed to happen. says who We're only humans and we have mortal sensibilities. All we can do is live life to the fullest and count your blessings. And know you are loved and to love back.
cheers,
Bellini
The plane literally disappeared over the Atlantic Ocean -- in those waters between Brazil (eastern coast of South America) and Africa -- i.e. trade ship route. I don't know, I believe the waters between Brazil and Africa are sacred considering the history of the slave trade. No satellites, radar, we got nothing. Freak of nature, perhaps. Maybe 20 years down the line, we'll get a clue to shed some light on the tragic crash.
And then yesterday, in the nation's capital two trains collide. Bizarre. We don't know why, although we're told those things aren't supposed to happen. says who We're only humans and we have mortal sensibilities. All we can do is live life to the fullest and count your blessings. And know you are loved and to love back.
cheers,
Bellini
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