a lonely 4th

is what i deserve (im thinking)
as i traverse an open field
of gun powder
smelling her
through my skin
the lights were bright
my heart was dull with guilt
liquor is not my friend
i took the last bus home
2 am
woke up with gum
on my neck
maybe someone spit on me
i wonder if i had been awake/
would it have mattered
liquor is not my friend
voices of disappointment
ring in my ears
i'm afraid of silent rooms
of windows
some couple kissing
as the sky exploded
i watch them,
dreaming of lips
so sweet they linger
in the air of memory

what i had
what i gave away

alcohol

you believe in me
even when i don't believe
in myself

and unlike my true love
there is no judgment
in your caress

come down on me at once
old muse, your kiss
a hypnotic afterlife

cinders burning
the edges of an undug
grave

i watched her body...

how delicate the night runs along
the windowsill and I want to take her
in my arms, as I've done so many nights
before, but the morning has never
judged me as it does now. Am I ready?
to leave, to really walk away, could
ever be, never, no, not that, her scent
follows me wherever i go, other women
smell like her passing by me on the way
to work. Is this what I have to look
forward to? No other could fill her shoes/
I sit silent/cement in my throat
she's not angry, this makes it harder
to walk away and when i do i walk through
the door and back into her arms - no exit,
some movie where dreams and reality
mold into one, nothing in my life is
as real as she, yet i am not ready
either way i'm unfit/ love so deep
i find it hard to breathe

one day it'll all make sense

...under a canopy of parliament light exhalations
windows open, eyes closed, fingers parted our love
collapses in on itself, the box we're trapped in and can't
get out of, little room for reason, and logic sits outside
the window, he missed the party...you, rose, i steal another
petal from your stem we are not yet so antiquated are we
no not at all and i'm begging my mind to put the pieces together
to fit all the happiness it can into the puzzle of my dreams
as the madness exits out the back door, leaving room for
us, the dreams we have, together. so i step back and watch you
resting your eyes on the night in amazement that after all
this time, even silence can lead me back to you, but there's so
much noise around...

work in progress.

no room for indecision

i slept on a bed of thorns and watched my rose in bloom, struck by moonlight tears escaped its center and i bled old wounds all night...

in the morning i felt no deliverance from the now recurring nightmare that is my life...

i wanted her to know

that love is forever

where i stand


am i leaving for me or for her?


how selfish of me to shun love



here i go again embracing all the jazz and blues of rain.


i've been here before...again.

back to black.

We made love twice last night, listened to Robin Thicke, Doves, Dido, and various artists. lit candles, drank vodka, smoked cigarettes...I caressed her locks, took deep breaths as I swam in her gaze, speechlessly, evoking "what's up" from her lips. There was a calm in her presence I hadn't felt in a while. I sometimes feel I've grown too accustomed to waking up next to her in the morning, her forehead kisses, the constant affirmation of "I love you". I can't remember when she hasn't told me that. I'm spoiled, yet torn.

A few nights ago she said "I'm getting the marriage itch"..."just putting it out there". We're on different timelines. I'm not ready for co-habitation even though we live together and now she's mentioning marriage as if it were on the horizon? should I be ready? I'm staring over the edge. Being single is fun for about this long *holds up thumb and pointer finger* I didn't say anything. I stared speechless. 25 is a benchmark for her. Like it's all downhill.

I haven't thought about it much actually. -me

Well, I'm just putting it out there. -her

Ok. -me

end of conversation

I'm an indecisive dreamer. A hopeful (after years of hopeless dread) romantic, an idealist, a loner and a lover. I'm selfless yet stubborn, faithful? I don't know what lies around the next bend , I just know I'm ok with not knowing. I'm not ready to plan out the next ten years of my life. I don't want any more boundaries on what I can do, who I can see, how long I can stay. I don't want this to be the end of the road for us but I don't want to drive by any more exits wondering where those roads may lead, taking my hands off the wheel and endangering the life of my only passenger.

A decision must be made...soon.

norah jones.

imagine light
and slow breathing
open palms
and plenty rain

soft wind
and blossoms
sudden life
a moment
spilling over
into the next

one voice
even in darkness
a warmth
forgiving,
familiar,
a flame that
can be held

brian jones 2004-2006

i was(am) staring at the shadows, waiting for the sun.

smoke and mirrors.

I am staring at 15 beers lined up, held upright by dying wood in a happy hour trance of smoke, earfulls of women's laughter, click-clacking of plates beyond the drum's circumference (sounds that graze the ear peripherally). This is not where I belong. I belong at home, fingers in between the first and last page of newly discovered book...or holding a pen or caressing a vowel key, then comma, then . a poem. something created, not destroyed, again, another night, wasting away my bank account, lungs, ears, eyes, and creative psyche amongst many strangers and few familiar faces. in '07, i must do better.

"gravity rides everything"

i realize that no matter how many high lifes or yuenglings i drink tonight, morning will come, relentless, unforgiving tomorrow and i will wake up after the alarm and i will shower and curse the sun and wipe sleep from my eye and brush my teeth and shave and stagger in a half-daze to the metro where i will observe eyes and somewhat yearn for a new connection, a random conversation with a stranger about life, how it's going, what could be different, how suprisingly similar our qualms and joys truly are. this never happens, just a passing thought and after 15 minutes of sliding doors, loud conversations about nothing, a distortion of my ipod and voices and bodies and smells and stares, i will arrive at dupont circle. tomorrow is a "stand" on the elevator day...yesterday was a "walk" day. i will walk 19th street defeated because the day will be just as the day before. i will think of office space, but think better of it as i sit at my desk and my boss asks me about my upcoming vacation and smile and discuss her trip and give me pointers on work for the next couple of days. it will take about 30 minutes for me to begin to work after a gmail check, a facebook check, a brief espn check, a wikipedia check, a craigslist apartment ad check. i will smoke 1 or 2 cigarettes at lunchtime, eat some greasy fatty food because i'll forget to pack something at home. i will doze after lunch, work hard for the last two hours and leave the office at 5. but all this matters not. i just felt like sharing. sharing is caring.

tuesday, 10/10

you were a long pull from my last cigarette

you felt so good, i thought i had died

living beyond my means...

father knows best. he always says, "even when you have money, act like you're broke" and he's right, b/c then you'll have money when you really need it.

i need it now...i don't have it.

something is wrong with this picture. the picture, encased in broken glass.

i've been thinking maybe if i get another job, then i would be good, but really it's a matter of habits. no matter how much money i make, i can be in the same boat because i'll spend more, if the present mentality continues to manifest itself, which it would, but it can't because i want to change my habits.

i will. it begins with auditing myself down the every cup of coffee bought. every penny must be taken into account. i grow weary of this attempt at explaining how i'll become more responsible with my money. i'm beginning to get hungry. good thing i brought my lunch today. pot pie. yum-me

---
loid, "what the fuck is up!" (c) dave chappelle

jai, this is as good as i could do today. depressing, yes.
i hope this doesn't take away from your shine.

autumn

the city wears a frown
that often brings rain
the sewers are unable to hold

a subway door catching
the index finger of my
hand trying to catch up
with my body (we're all late)--
this is where my mind lives,

with the change lost in between
the slivers of the couch
as the years pass and my skin
dulls under the collective
asshole of the world

today it finally feels like fall,
and although the leaves
have not yet begun to sing
colors against the autumn wind,
i found a tree by the basin,
which i will climb,
clasp my hands together and
attempt to hold on to what's
left of summer

how deeply rooted my
walk is planted in the
hope of making it to tomorrow
so deep, i often find
it hard to remember to tie
my shoes

i find it harder to forget
the things i missed today

and even harder to let go
of yesterday

which leaves me with nothing,
now being too short to hold
on to with both hands

so i trip over my own feet
that eternal slip into
then

or again

now and then
i watch the sun
and grow jealous
of it's view
of me

i can never get away

i write this in the lonliest of breaths
and grow weary of explaining
this need to be
to no one

i guess sometimes
i grow tired of mirrors

i grow weary of even me
and the overcast that is the first day
of another season come
one day too soon

let it be quoted...

Floyd Landis is on that good

Maurice Clarett is on that good.

Lonnie Baxter has no excuse, he is on that good as well.

I wanted to be on that good the other night, but considering I have a job, it's best to limit such activity to the weekend.

Alana's birthday is tomorrow. I have no gift. I have no money.
What to do?

*looks down, moans*

i was hoping if i came here i'd have something to say.

i'm here now.

i don't.

somehow, i don't find myself at all interesting this summer.
consciousness has been routine.

tuesday mulling.

there is dust today
gathers under the fingernails
with the dead skin
i've been scratching
off my forearm all day

i stumble upon
a poem by kevin young
and all at once
i am inspired
like i was watching
the beggar
with deformed feet
beg for help
with a sign written on notebook paper
in blue ink too hard to read
in the sunlight

i stand there and cry
but i do not help him
it isn't money he needs
i do not have what he needs

i should not use apostrophe
when trying to capture emotion
on a jagged line

the monotony is suffocating
it is what i asked for
it is?

i want to leave dc
i want to leave.
now.

my weekend...

in three sentences:

i drank friday, saturday and sunday night.

i spent 250$ on groceries at cosco w/ alana.

i played basketball (for the first time in about a year) sunday morning/afternoon, in cloudless 90+ degree weather up at american w/ some fellow okplayers and every muscle in my body aches today.

this weekend..

i plan to have as much fun for as little money as possible.

funeral. (for monday)

it is ok to die today
because last night
we made love

the road that has no fork

the idea of possibility is a tomb for he who is directionless

this is where i walk, no retreat, no rest stop, only sun-soaked pavement

a wall-less corridor, a prison with no bars


i'm not sure what blinds me more, looking into the sun (there are no clouds)

or staring into the glaring blackness melting my soles

this road is not one full of choices

the choice was made before entering

i travel this road alone

no exits, no mile markers

time does not exist

the sun has not moved in years

slowly,

my brain's screws will loosen

and my head will splatter against the curve

of yellow that protects this road

from reality




i can't make up my mind

here: hold out hands

you take it

what's new

i went permanent on my job as of June 5th.
i will getting paid monthly which means until the day after the 4th of July, i am very much broke.
i look forward to the check. my job is chill.
i can look for a place now w/ the ms. alana
i haven't been writing a lot lately.
i have been reading the collected poems of James Merrill intermittently for about a month now. his imagery is beautiful.
the reason i'm posting this is because i feel guilty for not posting, not because i have something to say.

the sun is out. it is officially summer today.

wonderful

the significant nothingness of a 9 to 5

i stare glaringly at the left top corner
of the mac until my eyes fill with salt from
some dark place and the pixels become faulty
remnants of a clear graphic

to quit would be to succomb to
11 pm binges on steel reserve malt liquor
to awaken 2 pm with the world
trying to break out of my forehead

the synapse flickers, sparks in response
to a thought i have of lighting up in the office
my instincts think everything is a good idea
if i followed them more often

i would not be at the desk nodding off
to the hum of central air, the dull
light, pink walls, empty bulletin boards
i envision an escape through the open door

i never closed when i arrived here,
nowhere yet to be seen and it is clear
if you saw me today, you'd see straight through
this dullness has a way of hollowing true

wedding day.

May 13, 2006

we wore ivory and peridot

the occasion occurred in raleigh, north carolina

groom: randy baker, first cousin

bride: corranda townsend

me: groomsman

it was wonderful being able to support my cousin on the special day. i enjoyed getting away from the city for a few days and hanging out with family. it's amazing how one's outlook on life can change when the scenery is shifted. i honestly did not want to come back, at least stay down there or go somewhere else for a week or two. i need an extended vacation. i would settle for a new job.

all in all, i'm very glad i went and i wish randy and corranda the best.

okayplayer moment. 10.05.06

it is rather ridiculous how amusing this website has become for me since venturing outside the freestyle board (where i post poetry) and fully embracing my General Discussion (GD) homies. here's today's funny. posters' handles shall remain anonymous. i think this may become another spin-off blog.


Thread title: Has anyone perfected the art of TF'n?

Body:
(for those that don't know, TF'n is tittyfuckin...the last frontier)

I'm thinking I should invent a seat or some shit, because ladies, do you all mind to have some nigga's prickly, hairy balls draggin' all up and down your sternum while we're pumpin' aways at your sweet oily ravine of love-meat? Or do you just take that as a hazard with the job?

And what about that happy ass nigga who you both know about to launch off that nuclear and get slick and pull it from between your monsters and cold starts jacking that jount only to give you the Peter North special? You all get mad with that too or you cool with that?

Or are you one of them ladies that just let it pool all around your sah-phuh-gus or however that's spelt?

Holla @ me...we need the truth.

Ladies, describe how you hold em up so you can hold him down....we need vivid, slooow examples.

Like do you kneel and drool on it for lube? I mean...the streets needs this.
--


i almost laughed out loud when i read "the streets need this"
i love okp and hate okp but i always return to love. so many intellectual, creative, and motivated brothers and sisters on there; as well as the assholes, freaks, brownosers, etc. a wonderful way to pass the boring day in the office.

happy hour

the drinking begins at 6 pm
in the common share,
kickballers huddled in pre-game
drunkenness, laughing over
pilsners and guiness

staring at me in 10 second intervals

wondering why i'm alone--
it's how i enjoy drinking/
the alcoholic way/
a camel light burning slowly
away the day's expectations
and bringing on the night
smoke glowing gold in the setting
sun disappearing behind Staccato

i command the jukebox/
7 songs late 90s hiphop
or late 80s conscious rap
i settle for early 21st century
britpop and the white folks
are surprised or intrigued or
just waiting for my song to end
so they can play early 80s pop
late 60s rock or whatever their
friend says spilling Blue Moon
over the edge of the bar

the hours here roll over
like anytime minutes/
women strut in as if this is LOVE
or H20 and who really gives a shit/
all the men do (i am the self-proclaimed
exception)
i dont even see the girls parading
down the narrow walkway with martinis
and chiraz

attention is cheaper than the beer specials

lust is a marvin gaye song away

in a bar, everyone's hip, until they stop drinking

if you stumble out of the bar, you've had too much

i never stumble

i always have too much

awakening

draft.-,

your lips are the sun-

my forehead
the cloud it touches
then rises over,
parting;smile
to shine on all
that encounter you today

i get to be first,
alone with you,
eyes still waking from dream
so that i see you double

sleep, awake, sleep, awake--

you never left
you never leave

i lie under you all day

and when i sleep again,
you
setting
beneath my chin

blow kisses, stars

traveling without moving

there is so much noise in the city. restless. eager. angry. people come so close, brushing by you, hastily during lunch, on their way to the end of the block to wait at the red light. distant. weary. searching...

today, my future has weighed heavy on my mind. ever since i received formal notice of graduate school not being in my plans in the very near future (fall), the cloud of uncertainty that surrounds my next move has grown darker...not some fog that burns off in the late morning. this is a storm, and it is here to stay until i make a decision.

slowly, but surely, i'm gathering steam to move toward a career in education. i'm looking to get out of this temp job and substitute teach for the rest of the school year and then possibly get a position teaching summer school somewhere...now this seems like the right path or the beginnings of finding the right one, but then i'd also like to leave dc, but with no money how shall i move and if i was to move, where would i work...and would i like it? would i want to come back here? i guess all those questions could not be answered unless i actually moved.

all in all, i'm tired of standing still.

After THE ROOTS: ACT TOO- The Love of My Life

hip.hop.


the most beautiful things
come in the most rhythmic packages,

starting small then
swelling behind the ears

beyond the years.
and just when you think

this may go on forever,
that every question your life

may have has just been answered,

the song ends.

i'd like to take this moment to shit on myself

the more i read my blog, the more i realize how uninteresting my life is. I'm a disillusioned idealist with large dreams, yet variable motivation. when someone gives it to me real, more than likely in the form of a question by my father (where are you going? what's the plan? you gotta have a plan...what's the next step--i never have an answer), i breakdown mentally like will i ever have it "together" (no, you will not). I'm 23 years old. I've been out of school almost two years and I'm in the same place I was 2 years ago..... Ok, so I've had a very good relationship with a beautiful woman for almost a year, i have a job, and friends that pretend very well to like me, so not exactly the same...i guess this is where the shitting stops and i begin to wipe my ass.

flush the toilet,
put the seat back down,
wash my hands
and leave the bathroom...because life keeps going even if i decide every now and again to stop for a moment and be flustered by how fucking fast it really moves.

impressions

venues: Love Cafe, 15th and U St., nice lounge, good lighting for reading, typing.
Jin, 14th Street, half a block south of BusBoys and Poets. expensive, empty, dark...one and done.

I spent some time talking to Jai about writing, women and a need to be independent of our current living situations. Most of our conversations revolve around these topics, each being allotted variable amounts of conversational time depending on the day, state of mind, etc.

oh and of course there is the whole grad school situation. i am coming out of my bout with disillusionment and utter frustration with the entire process and telling myself that i just have to approach this whole thing "again" at an entirely different and much more preparatory angle. There are things I want in life and nothing will stop me from actively trying to attain those goals, especially not a few rejections (ok, so to date it's been about 8 or 9 but really who's counting?)

the supervisors are gone for the week so the bullshitting and blogging will be at optimum levels today and tomorrow. it already feels like friday and that ladies and gentlemen is a great fucking feeling...

one day it will all make sense

;I have ashes for sale;

In an attempt to rewind space-time
Continuum,
The sky fell to eye-level
And became what was used to being
Like the sun never setting
Stars eaten bit by bit

It rained on everyone’s head
But it was spring so no one cared
It was when the electrocutions began,
That guided lightning out of nowhere fast
That tempted humbled, yes,
People began to kneel
In worship of a heaven not so far away,

Begging for the distance between she
And God to return to the fathoms of
Not knowing how long or far
It takes for cats and dogs to fall to the ground
For fat women to stop
Singing
And begin their eternal cry
Souls echoing hopelessly into a whisper
That is their heart.

;I only have ashes;

3 gone...1 to go

NYU and Emerson came today in nice crisp envelopes with messages closely resembling Brown's.

That leaves UVA...

yeah, right.



today officially sucks.


i am not what was intended...

Mr. Jones (applicant)

We regretfully inform you that after close consideration of your application, we will be unable to accept you into the Brown University Literary Arts program...

blah, blah, blah,

661 applicants competing for 8 spots.

in response to the rejection letter:

my id: go eat meat, drink lots of alcohol, smoke and pack of cigarettes and have sex with a attractive stranger.

my ego:
you're stupid for thinking you had a chance to get in without a verbal recommendation from Kevin Young, lol (better start looking at the low-res programs, state schools).

...I don't consider myself an elitist but I want to go to the best school for what I'm trying to study...I just have to re-think what best means, for me, specifically and gauge exactly where my strengths and weaknesses are in poetry through those avenues available to me.

i felt sorry for myself for 5 minutes on sunday, when i realized that i had been rejected and wouldnt be going to my first choic in schools.

i must hastily consider a plan B for the fall.

round one, day two

predictions:

Ohio St. def Davidson

Iowa def Northwestern St.

Bucknell def Arkansas

Wisconsin def Arizona

Georgetown def Northern Iowa

West Virginia def Southern Illinois

Memphis def Oral Roberts

Villanova def Monmouth

Pittsburgh def Kent St.

Michigan St. def George Mason

N.C. State def California

UConn def Albany

Kansas def Bradley

North Carolina def Murray St.

Texas def Penn

Kentucky def UAB




so far power conferences go as follows

ACC is 2-0, Big East is 0-3, SEC is 4-0, Big 12 is 1-1, Big 10 is 2-0, Pac-10 is 2-0


maybe 8 big east teams was a bad idea.


Seton Hall, Syracuse, Marquette>>>Maryland, Florida St., Miami ????

I'm a G...I'm a G

ok, not so much a G

more like an L that stands for Loser

i am 5th of 5 in the friendly yahoo bracket my fellow morehouse men and I are battling under (morehouse04) umm, i picked up 7 points yesterday after seton hall and syracuse lost, two teams i had making it to the sweet sixteen. silly me. i always put too much thought into my bracket but considering the scores of some of the games, i'm lucky to have any points at all. the only teams favored to win that played like it from the beginning were Florida and UCLA, who in the past have been perennial disappointments when it comes to living up to the high seeding they tend to get...not since Udonis Haslem was on the team has Florida made a serious run for the tournament championship. UCLA haven't been super since the 95 championship year.


Player of the year watch:

Adam Morrison- 35 pts, 11-21 (fg), 4-8 (3pt.)
J.J. Redick- 29 pts, 10-20 (fg), 5-10 (3pt.)

the similarities are ridiculous

march madness

my final four:

Texas v. Memphis
UConn v. BC/Villanova/Georgetown/Oklahoma

i'm trying not to let sentiment overrule the logical choice
but right now sentiment is winning

UConn v. Georgetown it is.

Final: UConn v. Texas

UConn wins by 10

2006 National Champions: UConn Huskies

to become first class since 91,92 Duke to win twice in less than 4 years (must check this stat)

another monday in the office

today is a very slow day. ive been ebaying for some dress shoes and emailing folk, picking my nose and staring at the clock. i don't mind my job at all, in fact, i enjoy what i do most of the time; it's a stress-free, independent, laid-back environment 90% of the time...it's just that days like this, when most people are out of the office, including my head supervisor, well i'd rather be at a bar somewhere or lounging and reading a book or even better, writing.

today, it dawned on me that i will have to postpone my chicago st. application process for a couple months which will take me out of the running of a fall '06 start. i will apply for spring '07 entry unless i receive an acceptance letter from brown, uva, emerson or nyu (none of which i'm expecting, due to a few foibles in the application process, but then, excuses are nothing more than) which should arrive like next week, if not this week, in which case i have a few days...

(i have just realized, while writing this, how this week is the week i should find out, and i am not at all anxious to find out if i did or not...i think i became very disillusioned this past application season, to go through all the shit i did to get apps out and then have a recommender re-nig, well i've kinda just said "i will or i won't" and left it to be decided anxiety will only drive me to drinking more)

i bought a few items this weekend. i hadn't shopped since last summer and i usually don't shop more than 3 times a year, that is for anything more than one item.

wish list items that i'm trying to find on ebay for cheap:

Razr phone
ipod video
classic hip-hop cds


with the help of jai, i was able to literally steal two deftones tickets (930 club) last week from hungry bidders. the show was great: loud, wonderful vocals, everything i expected. needless to say, the coldplay concert was at the MCI center the same night (thu, 3/2) and i had actually contacted someone about splurging 250$ on two tickets near the floor but in the end i decided against it...just not a buy i can make with the little money i have.

i'm looking forward to this week's march madness. this time of year is always exciting for me and even moreso this year because two local teams (Georgetown and George Washington) will be in the tournament, no problem. I'm excited to see how far they go, both excellently coached, athletic squads that have shown that they can play with the best of the best in college basketball. Alas, Maryland Terrapins basketball will be watching the tourney from college park again this year unless they get to at least the final in the acc tourney: yeah, good luck with that.

i guess that's enough for now. i think i will take lunch.

my mind poured out on paper

the sunrise today was at 6:53 am... i watched it rise through the blinds of Val's living room window.

i had a coffee from starbuck's and a kamel light cigarette for breakfast.

i stared at numbers all day and at biographies of accomplished scientists at various hbcus.

i work for Q.uality E.ducation for M.inorities
located at 1818 N Street NW

...if you add the numbers of the address together you most certainly get 18

i found some birthday cards today at home.

i burned a slum village cd using itunes.

i ate at quizno's for lunch.

i had spaghetti for dinner...i drank iced tea.

more than likely i won't read tonight (Ishmael Reed's Mumbo Jumbo awaits my perusal.

my hands need lotion
my eyes need glasses
my love has gained acceptance
yet my heart still wanders...wishes...sometimes to be alone.

the sunset over new york avenue around 5:45 today.
it may have been closer to 6pm

ok, i'm done.

what's new

seems like i'm always on the run when i decide that it's a good time to post something in here. a few things have happened in the past two weeks that are worth noting:

a) i finally came up on a job. i'm working for a non-profit that is investing in improving education for minorities. my work so far has consisted of researching on hbcu-up granted institutions, trying to gather information on faculty there. it's amazing how many small hbcus there are (around 40) that i didnt know about.

b) last night i performed in front of Amiri Baraka, Ishmael Reed and Haki Madibuti for Howard's annual Heart's Day Celebration. This year Mr. Reed was the recipient of the award for outstanding contribution to the arts and I along with Val and friends (including Lamont Steptoe, excellent poet), under the direction of Tony Medina, performed a piece which was a conglomeration of pieces by Reed. It felt good being on stage and performing. I was nervous before the event but once I was out there, I was relaxed. Very great experience.


Well, the Terps play Duke in an hour, gotta go get some syrup fo' deez hotcakes. peace.

blame

the beads of ash slipping
through my fingers

the honeycomb cirrus
stretching days endless
around my lethargy

the dopplered sirens
releasing death to its maker

the asphalt yard
filled to the brim
with shattered hubcaps
and dried blood

the looming deadline

the empty beer bottle

the blinking lights,
raindrops
gliding down the cracked windshield
of night's discontent

the system

the open mic

the closed mind

blame anything,
everything

but me

my first rejection letter...

Bryan,

You've placed me in a difficult position. When we spoke on the telephone last semester, I told you that I didn't remember you specifically and therefore wasn't a good choice for a recommendation. You sent me a story draft in the hope that it would jog my memory. It didn't. I drafted a recommendation for you based upon the meager information at hand but realized that it was unlikely to help your cause. As it would have likely result in the rejection of your application, I didn't send it. I cannot behave unethically and fictionalize a recommendation, but I know that you are not asking me to do so. This being the case, you will need to find a replacement recommendation.

My easiest course would have been to send the recommendation and be done with it; however, I could not do so in good conscious as the draft you forwarded and your tenacity in your application suggest that you could have the stuff to go the distance. Once you're in, let me know if you are in Atlanta and would like to visit the workshop and share your graduate experience. Remember: write every day.

All best,
recommender

what the game's been missing...

not Juelz Santana...his new album is garbage (as expected)

Disney's game is missing Pixar no more. They bought Pixar for 7 billion. go figya

Pacer's game is missing Ron Artest and apparently the Kings will be missing his game. I see Artest in a Lakers uniform very soon.

My beloved Maryland Terps will be missing the academically ineligible Chris McCray's game starting tonight when they play Georgia Tech, 7 pm ESPN. I guess 3+ years in college does not necessarily equate to any knowledge gained. Go to class nigga!

My game is missing a paycheck but i'm on the grind. pray for me...

in response to the reader that remarks "i really liked it" after reading a poem of mine

you hated it
or didnt understand

you just don't
like reading
especially when asked

probably missed
the metaphor planted
on the third line
ending on the next--
my favorite part

you only read the first line
and counted silently the other moments
you imagined would lead
to the end of the poem

you're not impressed
see no impressions
beyond the ink

one might ask
what should be said
after reading

"i really liked it,
it was great"

seems kind enough
but this poem was about

death, and at the end...

what's great about that?

from the driver's seat: daydream

i.,

with you in the passenger seat
the city is a long tunnel without lanes

i run red lights
fingering your palm

licking your smile
one hand on the wheel

with you in the passenger seat
the city is a smoking gun

we're shot from

targeting the shadow lights
of a city we've never been to

i run stop signs
to deliver us from sirens

and the ocassional passer-by
envious of me licking your smile

clean of foreground,
revealing tongue;

left turn,
horizon.

boom blip

fortune tellers lie
your future hasn't happened yet
or it happened yesterday
too late to look back

as soon as it happened
your mind changes it
like you drove by a baby
holding a rabbit
but the next moment
you'll remember driving
by a baby holding a
rabbit with larger ears

i'm tired of trying to make sense
of what they tell me to make sense of

i don't want to run anymore.
i quit. ok bye.

blip 2

who said he knew me
lied about it, yeah he did

unfortunately ican't come out
to play right now

i smell gasoline
i dropped my lighter

through my shadow
and it fell out of my mouth
through the ground

today i'm half-empty
.

blip.

bittersweet symphony
is a recurring theme
in my mind's ipod--

new year's evolution

the world does not revolve around me

but it should

smoking is one of the worst things to inhabit my life
and still
i can't seem to let it go

go figure

i drink too much

i eat fatty, greasy foods and enjoy them very much

i love my girlfriend
we have no need for titles
we have a need for each other

the need has grown now for almost 9 months

she is the best thing to happen to me in 2005

i want to leave DC

i need a job, a real one
you know, the type where you make money

i've thought about all my pasts and futures
all night at the bar
and still all i can come up with

is an empty bottle
smoke
and mirrors

24, and the hours

the world should revolve around me
but it doesn't
it revolves despite me and my issues

apathy doesnt make it hurt less
whatever it is

it, now, being everything
and anything
or nothing

circles larger and larger
nothing

and to think this post was supposed to make sense

yeah,
right

rumors

him say
she said

you be
the secret
taste bud

caught
in between

teeth
seasons begin

with your
leaving,
winter;

and your
arrival;
spring

*

she say
him said

body electric,
you be,

the heart's
quicksand

returning
to earth,

rebirth
on silver pearls

of shattered
moonlight

the calm
beyond

the bond
physical

*

we heard
they spoke

a third
language

love's
vernacular

silence,
eyes

walking across
the pallete

of empty space
full
and resting

upon the
familiar

black light

how bout dem redskins!

dem boys- 7
dem skins- 35

first sweep of the regular season rivalry since '95
dc, sunday was a good day.

pure shooter

 

as much as i hate duke, his shot speaks for itself

#1 Duke 97
#2 Texas 66

siren

the infinite pursuit
of the sweet music in my ears,
that loud parade of death
down florida avenue.
sirens, migraine grenades
for the ill-prepared
and being that i never am
i at least become accustomed
to my fingers trembling after
each explosion of sound
as i stare into the back window
of acceptance or salvation,
to catch a glimpse of some
end not yet finished or done
hours ago. when my pursuit is
over, i'd like to go slowly
into the great night full of stars
shedding the sparkle of silver
tears one million years--trapped
in the nightmare of lights, blinking
my sanity six feet under

3 am songs

Beck- Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometimes
Foreign Exchange- Sincere
Interpol- Hands Away
A Tribe Called Quest- Once Again
Meshell Ndegeocello- Love Song #1
Marvin Gaye- Come Stay With Me Angel
Oasis- Champagne Supernova, She's Electric
Erykah Badu- I Want You
Death Cab for Cutie- Transatlanticism
Led Zeppelin- Going to California
Cee-Lo Green- Young Man

highway 101

we are level with the bay
near palo alto,
the sun is a staple in the
sky, in blue delight,
the wind whispering
overcast in san francisco

we bring jackets from
the san jose hills,
the mustang purring
familiarity with the
smoothness of the road
under us

i admit this being my
first time behind the wheel
of a convertible,
invigorated, every inch
of asphalt a new world,
every smile of yours
reassurance that the unknown
city
shall welcome me with
open arms

an accusation revisited

i step into the store
no longer a man
,i am, reduced
to black-- a shadow
of discontent,
the guilty searching
for his noose
to hang in,
this is where
i belong
guilty, proof
being inconsequential,
extra, a conviction
that goes without
saying, "yes,
your honor, i did
it and i apologize"
her premonition:
she has seen me
before or someone
of the liking
makes me wish
i was guilty,
the black now
having a face,
speaking a name.

heisman

will it be Bush...

 



or Young?

Stats:
Reggie Bush (USC)- rushing: 187 carries, 1683 yards, 17 TDs
receiving: 31 receptions, 383 yards, 2 TDs
1 punt return for TD

Vince Young (Texas)- passing: 183/296, 2,769 yards, 26 TDs, 10 INTs
rushing: 136 carries, 872 yards, 9 TDs.

searching, always searching

I
expectation, the goings-on--
the rhythm of thought

expectation, something more,
movement, the wind,

a lonely expletive
mumbled under breath

cursing your existence
hoping you are someone

else you believe
has it better

II
the drunk funk of the bar,

weigh-station, libation,
shenanigan not your salvation,

ethereal, lest you forget
caught in a hangover

the wet bed of sweat,
a sober morning

III
It needs to be done, now,
whatever it is

waiting for life to begin
wanting the pain to end

wanting the poem you'll never write
to save you from being you

the timeless mess of consequence,
the belittled id

the psychology of it
neurotic, cigarette butt

granulated sugar,
mcdonald's break

desperate housewife,
tortured soul, infinite madness

a completed circle,
the dotted i in the middle

the loneliness of belonging,
the fleeced masses.

IV
a song i lose myself in
the loss never found

a canceled check
the loan, the bill overdrawn

coffee, liquor
a brother's predicament

katrina, memory
vision of things to come

prophetic
pathetic

travelling without moving
circumstance, chance

fate, the last laugh
the last line

jokes on you
always, you

expectation, living short of it
argument, resolution

duly noted witness
of the absurd

participant in all
you've denounced

hypocrite
depression

loving yourself, holding fast
to the love of others

waiting, for something
not quite sure

can't describe it
but you keep going

until, finally
there are no words left to utter.

wednesday lament

music: coldplay - high speed


poetry strewn across the bed
i am now beyond expectation
i am hindsight 20/20 vision
a stereo without treble

--

fingers do not gain confidence
while aging, yet eyes do
having seen and felt, tied
to the brain's third dimension
somehow understanding
what's been seen, what's been felt

--

poetry strewn across the bed
poetry,
thrown across the bed

i will not apologize that i know
the end of my story, unwritten
the hidden path, the unopened doors

and that today i did not live
i only watched from my window,
envious, lethargic,

within a daydream.

thoughts.

music: death cab for cutie- transatlanticism


looking back on all the time i wasted thinking of the future here in this room alone with expectation i find it hard sometimes to leave it. blown here and there with the wilted leaves of yesterday's phosphorescent foliage, a life losing its neon. i am needed so i'm told but what do i need? this question follows me through the urban jungle as i go to drown myself in afterthoughts.

i quit my job.

After seven months of working with the kids, I've found that it is time to move on. No, I haven't locked up anything yet so this is me stepping out on a limb. The last day felt invigorating yet horrible at the same time. There were many people at my job that I loved and others I do not care to see ever again. The director and assistant director of the center didnt say goodbye or good luck or anything. They just gave me papers to sign, my last check and that was it. Seven months of toiling hours on end with kids and not even a pat on the back. Val thinks it's because I only gave a couple of days notice, but it's not like I was full time (2-3 1/2 hours a day) so I don't think 2 weeks was warranted (not to mention that my hours would have been cut? further next week!). I think their response to my resignation was a direct reflection of their character. Simply, they lack class when it comes to how they treat their employers, and for that reason, I'm no longer there.

guilty until proven innocent

I was accused of stealing cranberry juice from a 7-Eleven. I went into the store to get some chaser for Grey Goose Val had at her crib when I realized the store didnt have a large bottle; they only had the individual ones. So, I walked out of the store and asked Val if she wanted to get those. She did. I proceeded to walk back into the store and buy two of the juices when a pregnant Hispanic woman began to yell at me. She told me I put the juice in my pocket and to give it back. But why would I steal juice from the store and come right back? Dumbfounded by this rather logical question, she said, "Well, I thought you put something in your pocket", and reminded me that there were cameras watching me. Apparently cameras aren't needed. She has the eyes of a hawk. *scratches head*

dad and sons

trip to san francisco

streetcar named powell and mason



union square



golden gate bridge



libation



airport

me and me girlfriend

me and val 


aww, ain't that precious.

wake me up when life is over #1

is what I said to alana
who was not there when I
said it once again
while intrigued by the silence
of copper light against back-alley
foliage; how it ignites
the head-fire of my hangover

in the thick of the night
stars appear above the urban
landscape to admire
the slur of my tongue
trying to wrap itself around
some new declaration
of love for clouds and jazz
but the world has too few words

and so do i

gravity

the curve
of you
defies some
ground from
which my fingers
reach, then
fall, leaving
shadow prints
on brown skin
without palm

i'm smart

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

when the bar closes and i find myself still drinking

"you're such a lush" -C.R.

i ask for another one--
i've been here before
on the edge of a hangover
peering over the cliff
at every drink i consumed
that night, enough to swim in,
never enough.

i get in good with the bartender
by only asking for top shelf
and tipping double the bill

i won't remember
it in the morning
but my bank account will

sometimes i write love notes
on wet napkins
to the girl i'm going
to break up with
in my dreams because
she forgot my name
or i forgot my name
when she called
because the music
in my head was just
too loud

here they play jazz
and given that i like
to improvise, sometimes
i light a cigarette
at both ends and finger
the ash until i burn
but this is only when
the bar's been closed
an hour and even
the bartender is gone

the lights are off
and it's so quiet
i can hear the tic-toc
of my watch as i forget
my eyes aren't closed
and the people i hear
around me are only echoes
from hours before-- their
departure still ringing
in my drunken ears.

no. 100- shape the desire...

into something more. a thought becoming act, won. as in, now, i was gliding down the mending wall of sweet memory. weary of waiting and pondering the inconsistency of the thing, desire/ to be more began to manifest itself as more than idea. so, sitting down finally in the seat i've made for myself poets scattered around the floor, pieces of my heart and mind between the pages, the blank page lay under light from a lamp outside the window tonight it will not happen again this waning motivation to be greater than a beginning/void of middle of end/ of some thing new understood as (I). no--tonight will be different and it is that blank page has eyes after moments of squeezing a teardrop from my left eye/emotional ink. blood from my index finger/truth a duty to never stop/going so aimlessly into that terrible night without an insistence of being/

no. 99- it's cold outside

finally my mind has begun to calm down and allow me to speak, selfish bastard. so my job is a dead end. yes, brian luvs da kids but i'm pretty much sick of being broke all the time. i need another job, but considering it took me 4 months to find the one i have, it just looks like a very long winter is ahead of me.

i missed homecoming last week, for financial reasons, of course. i wonder about many people i've been unable to keep in contact with. i miss the AUC atmosphere if only for the fact that while in college being confused and unsure of the future was ok. now, it just seems pathetic.

i went to the library today and stocked up on poetry books. my writing continues to be sporadic and with about a month left to send off apps...well, the shit is very close to hitting the fan. transcripts are being processed thanks to Linda, i've confirmed two recs. that leaves the personal statement and my collection of poems...each of these sparking their own unique yet equally menacing headache.

schools:
UMass Amherst
Brown
UVA
American
Columbia Coll.
NYU
Emerson
UC-Irvine
Stanford (Stegner fellowship)

i am greater than i am

must means nothing until
it becomes done

i hear the clock tic-tocing away.

no. 98- jazz for a rainy day

the sirens sound the same today
windows collecting rain from clouds
covering the sun leaving a half-light
of breath in air, the cold broken
leaves of autumn fall orangeyellowred
at my feet mix with oil slick water
reflection of i, one eye hiding behind
a raised crack in another city block's
pavement. the day today had a mood
not far from the one i embody.
who hears the wail of steel against
asphalt against diesel exhaust against
the wind in my lungs as i take out my lighter
and attempt to ignite my life?

no. 97- bookstore conversation

i need time to listen to the voices inside my head.

i feel like we only hang out on your time

i need time to listen to the voices inside my head,
and i have to be alone to do that.

i don't mind having you around all the time

i need time to listen to the voices inside my head,
and i have to be alone to do that, and lately,
i've needed more time to listen.

hanging out one day a week is not enough for me

i need time to listen to the voices inside my head,
and i have to be alone to do that, and lately,
i've needed more time to listen. sometimes the time
i need is drowned out by something inside myself--
call it the noise of my un-motivation.

are you ready for this, for us

am i ready to respond to something that speaks
from inside myself? i need answers. will
us give them to me?

i just need time. time. the voices. listen.

i need your rhythm

to rock me to dream.
i am a solid rock
falling apart from the middle.
on this road to salvation
i tip hitchhikers for
nuggets of knowledge, that
i may pass on to the next.
how far away is the end?
how many paces must we walk
to feel as if we've gone
anywhere but here? i say
2 steps beyond love to remember
loss, 3 steps behind loss
to remember we can start again.
i'm gonna sell my heart to
the highest bidder, pray it's
you at the auction block
saving me from myself.
i've come up short so many times,
maybe this time, maybe,
i'll be in for the long haul
all the way to happiness
with you black pearl,
with you.

i'll never look into your eyes again...

-the doors

so limited i am in
my own insanity.
i am a desperate sheperd
in between the jazz of midnight
and your eyes that have
their magic, some beginning
i can't quite imagine,
given to me without asking.
we define romance with
broken thumbs that touch
each other's hearts the way
a guitar's riff splits our ribs
in flesh, in blood, in bone.
i once heard jimi on the way home
and suddenly forgot myself,
remembered you in all your
found tragedy...the dead in all
there purported media.
the children are crying for
our encore baby...we have to
move from skin to kin,
mother nature's accessory is
all she wanted, to know we cared
beyond our daily zombie run.
simple sympathy is,
to turn away from
to call it a damn shame,
the way of the world,
out of our hands,
we had nothing to do with
those tears.
as gently as the world spins
guides our existence
to the very tip of some
equatorial line untouched,
i can only think
we are worth more than
a memory. we are the dividing line
between meaning and meaninglessness.
if us does not make it,
love will die.
and all we'll have is
you and i,
separate, a song without
chorus, a night void
of stars, a morning
losing constantly
the hope of tommorrow.
i ponder time in
the infinite backlight
of your eyes and wonder
what forever is made of.

now we both know i'm a nigger (draft one)

I

but we keep having
the same misunderstandings
(have you noticed?)

i mind my own,but you, you
just can't get enough
of putting your hands on me.

i think you might love me,
but the tough way you know,
cuz when you leave sometimes
my eyes swollen shut

and i can't move my neck
or my leg is broken
or my child can't breathe
or there's money missing

from my wallet.the same money
you gave me yourself,remember?


yes,sometimes we do voodoo
to keep our feet off the ground
after you hang us
and in the cajun night,

we do spill a little
hot sauce on the sidewalk
while you're beating
the devil out of our heads
(we know it's for our own good)

but we always clean it up
and praise the lord we never ask
for no trouble,it just creeps up
on us like a godawful storm

that's been coming since
the beginning of time,
and we always knew about it
but prayed time would change
its nasty old ways...

facing it.

alcohol makes me feel good about feeling bad.

i can't remember the last day i didnt have a drink
without really thinking about it.

note: this is not a good thing--this is a bad thing.

very very bad

shame on me.

coldplay on a rainy day.

i only have the album "parachutes" on my computer, so i'm burning it this morning. this is definitely not a good day to be out and about on the town, which is good because i'm broke anyway. another reason not to go and spend money i don't have.

ahh, the weekend is a wonderful thing.

4 and 1. thoughts.

I.
my mind works against the jazz
of the town-- loud talk,
flickering candles, perfumed scents
of beautiful women

i'll never touch.

II.
i sip a smoothie through
a black straw, sweetness seeping
between my black lips,
wet with flavor in the midst

of another black night.

III.
i hope for rain,
but it never comes.
autumn has been a stingy
red leaf, not wanting to fall

on uneven ground.

IV.
and the band plays on--
blows its half-notes
into my afterthoughts,
makes it easy to remember

having a broken heart.


V.
my life has two names--
birth. death.
i find it impossible
to define the space between

as time becomes my alias.


VI.
what has become of my mind's noise
as ink paints self-portraits
within a blank void?
will i sprout from this,

or against it?

so i have two tickets to see beck tomorrow...

and no one seems to want to go. i admit to being a huge fan and the few friends i have either don't want to go or can't. i was thinking that maybe i could take my little brother but it's a school night and besides, he isn't a "fan" either. i just started to put him on to Beck's latest joint, Guero which he finds to be a good listening at the least. It looks like I may have to do a craigslist post or something. will the beck fans please stand up?

oh, i picked up fiona apple's extraordinary machine
as well as little brother's the minstrel show. both
have turned out to be good investments.

i left a 40 oz in the car...

i realize that drinking and driving don't mix and no i don't need a commercial to tell me that--i needed my father to. he sat me down tonightand told me about the history of alcoholism in our family. he told me that i needed to check my habits. i've realized that it isn't my father's words so much that have such a profound impact on me; he is not the first to talk to me about my smoking and drinking habits. it is the fact that my father is the person speaking. i have been in a mental rut for a long time now, one that has hindered my progress toward any of the goals i've set for my life, but honestly sometimes i just don't care about any of that-- the search for a job, the search for a school, peace of mind, family issues, relationship issues, and life in general. alcohol has been an accessory to my carelessness, a way to forget responsibility, to drown in the feelings of hopelessness that find me even in my soberness. it is true that there is plenty of light in my life, plenty of reason to succeed and to want to. but the darkness, the silence i find myself searching for at night, the solitude, where i speak to myself--this darkness haunts me, makes the light easy to push away, but it is impossible to forget. to forget the dreams i stand on are not only mine, but my father, my mother, my brothers, my extended family. i am finding it difficult to find a balance or in the words of yusef komunyakaa, apologize for the eyes in my head. i think that most of the time they see much more than those on my face...and i struggle with those visions as they struggle with me.

graduate studies day at american...

and i missed it. bummer...so, now what? there are two sports events i'm interested in watching today: Yankees v. Red Sox, and Jones v. Tarver III. The former is on Fox in about 10 minutes and the latter is a PPV fight. I must search the phonebook and internet for connections to this joint. For Jones, it's do or die and there is no way I'm going to miss a fight where he is backed into a corner. Jones is probably the most exciting fighter i've ever watched and when he was dominant...no one could fuck with him. I hope he keeps the legacy alive tonight...with a K.O.

i don't want a hug.

I had a long discussion with my girlfriend tonight about her problems and my own and how I seek seclusion when I'm in a rut, while she seeks the warmth of others. I find it difficult to hash out issues when surrounded by noise. Ultimately, I believe the source of the problem (whatever it may be) lies inside of me, with external contributors acting only as buffers to an internal battle. so, silence is golden in this case and with the graduate school sack on my back, it's time i pick up the pace and start running this bitch like it's the olympics. with that being said, my lady love i think takes it personal when i decide that hanging out isn't the best idea "right now", although i still spend a lot of time with her, she views our exchanges and quality time now as "awkward" and "forced". honestly, i don't share the same sentiments but i understand where she is coming from. i probably do seem somewhat standoff-ish of late but it's all in my plans to gain control of those aspects of my life that need to be controlled and are able to be controlled with my persistent attention.

i guess at some point it's just time to stop talking and start doing.
that's what i'm aiming for this month.

i want to believe.

i want to believe someone is listening. i want to believe all this means something. i want to believe in myself. i want to believe that i have control. i want to believe that i can do whatever i want to do in life. i want to believe i will find the motivation, drive that has eluded me for so long. i want to believe that these answers are not at the bottom of some bottle of liquor. i'm tired of drowning my tears in self-destruction. the dry mouth, the hangovers, the wasted time. i want to believe that somewhere there is help for me. i want to believe that i want help as much as i believe i need it.

dear brian,
stop talking to yourself.
it makes my head hurt.

sincerely,
brian

guided by the moon (a poem)

what is this exchange of looks
that has me staring into the wide
expanse of desire behind
those eyes?

everytime you uncross your legs
i plunge into the depths
of longing,
i, now and again
dancing with my mouth open
watered in the delight
of your knees where they bend
to find me
your body is a glimmer
of starlight in the crevice
of a rock that is my salvation,
my manhood unraveled
across the warm floor

at the center of your pelvis.
and i will wait in vain for your love,
the rhythm of orgasm,
the hum of sirens beyond the window,
the exchange of light and dark
between closed blinds,
the funk of it all
like i can't believe this could ever end,
the discovery of something
we could never touch,
but know of its touch
oh so well.

if only silence could
be translated into the slip
of your tongue under mine
maybe then
i could hold this memory
long enough to discard
all my wet dreams
maybe then
you could hold me
close enough to become
everything i could
never be.

digging for answers to everything

Indeed, I am lost in the fog of preoccupation with what is expected. I speak of expectations borne not from within yet without, without my preoccupation that being with the present all things within but in the span of a day, say from sunrise to dusk, that which is within and without is nearly impossible to decipher as more than one. This is my plight. Let us not begin to speak of double-consciousness or dreams or passion, only simple thought. Am I really here? Is all this noise the only benchmark for what I am, was, to become? Am I experienced say in the way Jimi was? Will I die a genius of the blues young? Will I grow old and un-wise; die in room drowning with unanswered questions? Are answers worth dying for?

memories on corners...

may not shine with the full moon light. they may bleed, evoke tears and shouts of madness revealed when the oil-slicked asphalt is peeled back by hot shells that rip at mind body soul and dreams of mother clenching to wet linen soaked by sunday rain. i'm so sick i can't think of reason...there is none, there is only time to regret. and i know not his name, or his way or the eyes through which world revolved around him. there are many worlds and i can only pray that there is one beyond this, where he caught by more than concrete, where the sun comes to meet one's smile, where there is no reason to be anything other than happy. peace be unto you.

for a 17-year old boy gunned down 3 blocks from my home, 5/30/05.

i owe it to myself to take time out to discuss the happenings of the past few weeks, regarding work and social relationships, however i find that by the time i get to this page it's late (1:03 am) and i have little to know real drive to do so. the days have overlapped. i should rest before the sun begins to rise.

searching for tulips.

for alana.

our bodies:

flowers blooming
in a private garden,

coupled against the light
of a low-riding moon

breathe in anticipation,
exhale epiphany,

feeling, again, for
the very first time.

chillin in philly.

I'm here now in my blog reflecting on the weekend and i really don't know what to say about it. maybe i'll give it another day to sink in.

places visited: Buttercup, Tangerine, Mantoni(sp), Cuba Libre, Gino's Steaks, Philadelphia Museum of Art (lobby), UPenn campus, South Street, Penn's Landing, Haverford College (brother's school)

but then that really tells nothing of why these places were visited, what was done there or who i was with. gotta be up at 6, but i had to put something down or i would have felt bad about it tomorrow. back later with thorough re-cap.

The ACC is that shit.

and we all knew, the orange would fall to blue, didn't we? no team has ever won 38 games in a season...the last to get this close was Duke in '99 and we know what happened...UCONN got that ass. Sean May entered the building in the shadow of his father's M.O.P. performance in 1976 when he and the Indiana Hoosiers beat Michigan 86-68 to cap off the last perfect season, and left (on his 21st birthday) matching his father's points total in the championship game (26) and eclipsing his rebound total with 10 (Scott May had 8).

In the end, you live by the three (used efficiently by Illinois to get back in the game in the second half), you die by the three (3 consecutive missed three pointers in the final 3 possessions). Illinois attempted 40 three pointers (championship record) and made only 12. Props to Deron Williams and Luther Head for helping the Illini make it a game to remember after North Carolina looked like they might run away with it after extending their lead to 15 at one point.

So, the big ten once again falls to the ACC in the championship game. In 2002 it was my Terps over Indiana, Michigan felt the wrath in back-to-back years, Duke in '92 and UNC in '93. If I hear another person talk about the ACC being overrated, I'll go to all the numbers in my head. "let's argue the numbers buddy, leave nothing to speculation". The ACC has won 3 of the last 5 championships...look at the past 15 years... the ACC has been represented in all but 2 final fours (96 and 03)... (duke 90, 91, 92, 94, 99, 01, 02, unc 93, 95, 97, 98, 00, 05 md, 01, 02, g-tech 90 and 04). i mean it's like come fuck wit us...lol...that's every year in the 90s except 96. and the 'oos except '03...man!!

not to mention championships in 91, 92, 93, 01, 02 and 05...six that is...that leaves 3 SEC joints (94 Arkansas, 96 and 98 Kentucky), 3 Big East (99 and 04 UCONN, 03 Syracuse), 2 Pac-10 (95 UCLA, 97 Arizona), one Mountain West (UNLV 90) and one Big ten (Michigan St. 2000). Let's not begin to talk about the weeks at number one or the multiple one seeds etc. I mean will the best fucking conference please stand up and claim that crown that is yours this year and every fucking year. ask Bruce Weber about it.

other tidbits about tonight's game:

Roy Williams 3rd man in last 30 years to lead alma mater to title (Boeheim '03, Williams '02)

Illinois first championship game in school history

Second most combined wins for schools in title game (69) (duke/uconn '99 = 70)

5th meeting of ACC and Big ten in title game (ACC 4, Big ten 1)

UNC first team since '79 Michigan State to win tournament within four years of losing record
(UNC '01-'02 were 8-20)

Sean May only 4th player in tournament history to average at least 20 pts and 10 rebs. in tourney. (M.O.P. of Final Four '05).

more facts later.

"hey can i tell u i miss u"

-anonymous

umm,
that's what i would call a dumbass question. now, i'm a very compassionate person, but why not just say it? why ask for permission to say something you said while asking? and why am i trying to understand why this was done? i really do not know.

--

dali 

and on to the final four.

i've just experienced arguably the best weekend of college basketball in my life. the regional finals, two overtime games and one double overtime game (the first time in ncaa history). the final four is now set: louisville v. illinois and north carolina v. michigan st. this joint is gonna be tight, ha.
--
sidenote:

i'm rethinking the appeal of casual relationships. simply put, i want a girlfriend. *slaps self*

i got a job.

i'm a clinician-in-training for a learning center here in DC. I'll be working with children, helping to increase their comprehensive skills through strengthening of concept, symbol imagery, decoding of words, phonemic awareness, etc. I'm in the midst of training and finally a brother is getting paid...this week feels really good.

--
Tomorrow I will discuss the NCAA Tourney and how done my brackets are...

common at DREAM

last night was great. i got to see one of my favorite artists live, for free. yes, the keyword here is free. i was pleasantly surprised by how much energy homeboy had on the stage. i doubt that i would have gone to Dream if it weren't for the show. i was out with a group of folks so that was cool. i'm into going to places with a lot less people. it can get down right ridiculous in there. i look forward to the BE album that drops May 24th on Kanye's new label...if i'm not mistaken he said BE stands for Basement Elevation, and that we were in the basement last night, feeling the funk, returning to the days of hip-hop past. oh, and that new "Corners" single with the Last Poets is tight. live shows are amazing.

memento and steel reserve

high gravity, indeed. it's good to have my brother home from school for break. now someone can point and laugh at me late at night, laugh endlessly together over dave chappelle's hilarity and enjoy a brew over a film whose beginning is its end and end...well, yeah you get the point. good company is great.

my name shall be in print weekly now at the Informer. I began a "This Week in Black History" column this week, which will highlight memorable events and people. it feels good to contribute information to something that thousands of people read every week. i will begin to link my weekly contributions (along with some features in the works) for your viewing pleasures.

everyone be merry.

a day of upsets.

march MADNESS has begun.

#1 Illinois 64, Ohio St. 65

#3 Kentucky 52, Florida 53

#7 Kansas 68, Missouri 72

God bless the underdog...and now UNC vs. Duke Part 2.

hmm...terps

i'll say it again...where is john gilchrist?
mccray and jones need to have a big second half.

halftime score: terps 37 hokies 45

...

final score: V-tech 86, Maryland 76 *shakes head in shame*

i pray for NC State to trip up against Wake Forest sunday night,
make it more difficult for the NCAA board to keep the terps out of the tourney.

next stop: ACC tourney, DC.

Maryland vs V-tech

let's get a win! go!!

the woman in the window.

i dont belong here, but there she is, smiling, waving. you know me? she knows me, well she knows my name and the school we shared. she knows my writing. i know her position, but now, in this place outside of our place of business, i can admire--desire. the wind is blowing and i can't stop thinking, and i drift often but i never thought my drifting would have a purpose. tonight, she offers me the words. i breathe them out silently into the space between our bodies, i wonder if she can read them in my eyes. as she leaves, i wonder.

does she? wonder?