Me + Idris + The PA I Almost Had To Kill: A Jaded Dream Post

It's been a long time since I've posted a dream for analyzing, but honestly my vivid dreams have been few and far between. But here's one from this past weekend that should prove quite entertaining. Ready? Ready!

So I'm dating Idris Elba (stop laughing) and he stays over my place one night. In the morning he has to get to work on a set near my apartment, and goes to use the restroom but I'm like "Noooo N's home and I don't want her to know you were here."

But he's all, "I have to meet her eventually."

So fine. They meet and it's awkward as hell. Right then some strangers try cutting through my room to leave this restaurant that is now behind my apartment attached to the buildings and I tell them "no, you gotta go around." I lock the door and Idris leaves.

Ffwd to that night, I see my door is open because people ignored me and have been cutting through my apartment all day. I go out there to talk to them and see everyone dressed in 1970s exploitation film attire and looking high as fuck. They're filming a goddamn movie at the restaurant. I tell one of the production ladies she can't go through my place but she's like, "yeah, we can and we will."

I go OFF. I say "no, you paid for use of the restaurant and alley, not my apartment."

So we argue and this production lady has a whole production team with her but I stand my ground: they CANNOT cut through my apartment to come and go. She says they spoke with my landlord and he gave permission. I say, "I doubt it" and slam the door in her face and lock it. The door has this big window in it, and don't you know this bitch threw a chair through that window? So now it's on. I reach through and slap her in the face through the broken window and when she tries to reach in and hit me I move her arm so a shard of glass slices her. It's a whole ruckus.

They walk away but I know something is up so I scoop up Naomi and leave the apartment, but before I do I see Idris left his shoes in my place, and I'm low key pissed. Who does that? This ain't your house, Idris! But I digress.

Outside, one of the actors on set is wildin' out and a PA has to tell him to chill, so I realize I'm dealing with an amped up cast and crew--what the hell kinda film is this? I'm already nervous because folks have been in my apartment and now the glass is broken so they can get in again, and now I see these ain't normal sober people. So I'm fitna call the cops and shut down production.

But guess what?

It's the movie Idris is working on!

So now I have to choose between being with Idris-fucking-Elba, or standing my ground against this feral cast and crew. I was so troubled by this that I woke up!

Kelly! I know you're reading this; tell me what it all means!

*smooches...vowing to lay off the late-night snacks*
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clearly that was a buffalo wing-induced nightmare!

The Best Movie Ending Song EVER

If you haven't seen Dazed and Confused, you're a loser, because it's one of the funniest, funniest, funniest movies of all time! OF ALL TIME!

But I'm not here to talk about the movie (maybe later if I decide to start reviewing films again), I want to talk about the soundtrack: chock-full of classic rock, baby!!

I've been known to really get into a groove when "Rock n Roll Hoochie Koo" plays, and please, if you don't drop what you're doing and sing "Cherry Bomb" whenever it comes on, I truly have to question your reason for living. And I mean who hasn't written tear-stained diary entries to "Love Hurts" once or twice?

But this song, this goddamn Lynyrd Skynyrd song that just penetrates my soul and takes a hold of me every-fucking-time, is the absolute most perfect song to play while a movie is ending and the credits are rolling:

Tuesday's Gone - Lynyrd Skynyrd


Don't get me wrong, I like my films to have substance and be witty and well-written, acted and directed, but if it can ALSO have a bangin' soundtrack? Sheeeiiitttt that's the holy grail right there!

...
...
...

OK, OK, stop begging! I'll post a clip from the movie already. SHEESH!

(this is the classic Matthew McConaughey "Wooderson" scene)


*smooches...taking a break from soca*
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I need a bit of something new for a while now that Carnival season has died down

Staying In The 90s

I think it was comedian Jerry Seinfeld who joked about older people and their way of dressing, stating that it appears his parents selected a decade and just decided that's where they'd stay. I laughed so hard at that joke and today realized: it's true. Why? Because I'm living it. I've decided that most of what has happened after the 1990s--whether it be music or fashion--is all well and good but for the most part, it's not for me.

Given a choice, I'll always prefer baggier cuts of pants (oh how I miss my Osh Kosh B'Gosh overalls!) and flannel shirts and Doc Martens. I mean, you already know I STILL own and frequently wear Docs. And today's music... I could take it or leave it.

Or maybe it's that the 90s represent the funnest, most carefree times of my life, before kids, debt, physical ailments and these extra 30lbs (she wrote while eating cheddar-flavored Sun Chips).

I still long for my dark, matte lipstick, chokers, bangs, baby doll dresses...basically Brenda Walsh's entire wardrobe from the first two seasons of Beverly Hills, 90210.

Can I get all of these in a size 12? Thanks!

Can we go back there??

*smooches...reminiscing about better days*
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look at that, my calendar says this post is right on time! now let me go buy some feminine napkins...

When I Do It I Don't Look Back

Rarely will a Beyonce song move me. OK, that might be a lie. I think I can name at least five Beyonce songs that I've shaken my ass to over the years. Or more. Whatever, shut up. Let me just give you this week's inspirational message in peace, OK? Sheesh!

Yesterday, I mentioned my lamentations about having thrown myself into the position of Head of Household, and how the experience shook me. That was October of 2005. Right now, in this glorious year of our lord Jesus Christ (2013), I walk around making no apologies for any of the decisions that I've made.

Oh, I left you while you were at your lowest point in life? Too bad, so sad. I turned my back on the possibility career in the sciences to pursue the arts? That's how I roll. I'm happily SINGLE AND FABULOUS, EXCLAMATION POINT yet you can't understand why I just won't get a man in my life? Bitch, have a seat.

I'm a grown woman. I can do WHATEVER I want.



I want you all to know this is more about following your true path and less about singing a little diddy by a card-carrying member of the Illuminati (although it is a damn good song, Mrs. Carter). This is definitely about believing in your own ability to make shit happen for yourself, regardless of who is in your corner and who isn't.

You're going to make mistakes. You're not going to have all the answers. You're going to hit more than a couple of brick walls. But the stories you'll be able to tell along this fantastic journey, well, shit, isn't that what it's all about? The fantastic journey?

Do yourself a favor: be grown. Do whatever you want.

*smooches...memorizing that choreography*
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this would be a good song to play at the gym, or right before I take the mic at a reading...

Lost In Translation: The Don Lemon Disaster

So as I understand it, Black Twitter has ousted CNN personality Don Lemon from The Club because of some recent comments that have deemed him an Uncle Tom (a diss I don't fully understand because I never read the book. I've currently pulled it off the shelf at work. I might read it unless one of you can give me the Cliff's Notes.). At first I cared not even one little bit. Not even a smidgen. I used to have a crush on Lemon but as soon as he came out as gay I moved on. I don't believe in fighting that fight, y'all. I know how good penis can be; there's no way to turn a man who likes penis.

But everyone and their momma kept talking about it (even created a hastag on the Twitter--Don Lemon Logic--about it) which made me finally read an article about Lemon's comments to see what was so bad about it. In a nutshell, Lemon agreed with something that Bill O'Reilly said about "...high levels of crime in 'black precincts'" and the "'disintegration of the African-American family'" and also discussed "...the 'gansta culture' pushed by the entertainment industry." Specifically, Lemon listed five ways we, as black people, could do better in life:

• Respect our communities
• Finish school
• Pulling up sagging pants
• Eliminating the n-word
• Addressing the issue of absentee fathers [source: The Daily Caller]

Honestly, folks, this isn't a bad list. If I have to see another young man's underwear without my consent, I'm going to scream. If I have to see another couple get pregnant accidentally on purpose and not take responsibility for the life they create, I'm going to hurt someone. But these things aren't only in the black community, so maybe that's why y'all are mad at Lemon?

I mean, that list is a very good start to fixing a bunch of serious issues within many black communities. Where I think maybe Ol' Don lost y'all was in laying this out as THE plan to fix everything, without addressing certain facts of modern life that are designed to keep the same groups down in the muck so that those with power ALWAYS have power.

I don't know; I'm not seeing why his remarks lit y'all all the way up, is what I'm saying. Maybe y'all didn't understand what he meant or he didn't express it properly? There just seems to be a communication breakdown somewhere, because I can see where he's going with this and let me tell ya- it's not a bad place.

Feel free to tell me I'm wrong so I can ignore you in the comments.

*smooches...ready to beat his ass if it's warranted*
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y'all know I'm all Black Panther-y now. just say the word and that jive turkey's ass is grass!

Lianne & I Had A Date On Saturday In The Park

And it was everything I imagined it would be and more. She's amazing.



On July 13, I was on a bus headed home from taking K to orientation at college, and I kept Lianne in my ear on repeat. Just let her soothe me after a nice weekend of family time and introducing my child to her future. Then I received a bunch of texts about that damned verdict and my chill turned to sorrow.



I hate that Lianne is associated with that terrible day. But seeing her live...I can only imagine this is what communion is like for the faithful. She's not that verdict, after all. We shared a moment, and in that moment I was truly happy.



This concert reminded me why I write, why I create art. It takes people away from the misery and the bullshit, and instead shows them the beauty and the possibilities.



How was your weekend?

*smooches...still in a groove*
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no one has moved me this much in a while

So, This Happened.

You must know by now that when I'm gone for a bit it means I have more pressing things going on than updated this outdated website. Yes, outdated. Everyone is on Instagram or Tumblr; blogs like this are getting left behind like printed periodicals.

But whatever, I was busy living life and doing things. Like curating an event for Lit Crawl NYC this fall. And planning my next reading at La Casa Azul Bookstore on the 21st. And just working on my various writing and personal and home projects. Plus we fit in some fun stuff. Like so:

I went to the Sesame Flyers mas band launch. Because I'm playing mas this fall along the Parkway. I'm thinking of maybe one of these two costumes:

This costume allows me to still eat junk food.

This one...not so much...

K graduated from my alma mater, Brooklyn Technical High School. MY BABY!

BTHS Alum, 20yrs apart!

Soon this will be a pic of THREE BTHS alum

Straight out of a scene from "Mad Men"

And then, just last weekend, I took N to her first fete--Kes the Band LIVE at B.B. Kings Times Square. AND WE MET KEES DIEFFENTHALLER (the lead singer).

We were the last group allowed to take a pic!

Oh, and DJ Robbie Styles and I are getting married. Allegedly. In my dreams.

Can you just picture our babies?!

What have you all been up to?

*smooches...still on cloud nine*
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let's see if I can go the whole month without disappearing...

What A Conversation We Had

We shared a stolen glance;

In a ball gown and black tie room,
a crowd of diamonds and stilettos
and champagne,
our eyes found each other
and smiles followed
yours with slight dimples and creases
mine with sharp edges and adoration.

Silky whispers caressed our ears
a meshed chatter fluttering by
nodded at, ignored

Only your laugh lines hold on to me;
their aged wisdom traveling from
lip to chin, across your brow-
and your smile, I fall into it
like Alice down the rabbit hole

I follow your smile
floating and weightless;
I am airborne in your presence
I can be anywhere, anything
transformed and reinvented

The air kisses my cheeks
chilling the curves of my skin
ruffling the layers of my dress
and when I touch ground it’s
your smile that envelopes me
holds me like a warm blanket
in winter, plush and comforting
and soft—I wrap myself in it each
subsequent night

And then I am on the Sears Tower
looking down at you waiting for
your smile to catch me
I want to fall again
I want to stay in your glance

Across a ball gown and black tie
room, with champagne glasses
and stiletto steps
our eyes found each other and
smiles followed.

And you noticed me.

*smooches...wishing John Paul Cusack the happiest of birthdays*
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next week we'll go back to inspirational Fridays. promise!

Tuesday's Random Thoughts

Fireflies still amaze me. Walking down the street, suddenly coming across a FLYING LIGHT, still takes my breath away. I want to catch them and have a private light show in my hands.

I am just a couple of really good freelance jobs away from financial calmness. That's what I call not being worried about making rent!

MY KID GRADUATES FROM HIGH SCHOOL ON FRIDAY. This can't be my life. Also... ONE DOWN, ONE TO GO!

Soca artists are so SCANDALOUS, and I'm here for all of it, every minute of every day! (watch clip until at least the 3:00min mark!)



There are so many cool, free events happening in NYC this summer that I'll probably only end up doing NONE of them.

I very rarely miss people who miss me, and that made me feel a little guilty yesterday...for about five minutes.

Hot sauce makes everything better.

Yelling makes everything worse.

There are so many stories in my head at once, and the only way to shut them up is to write or numb myself. That urgency to get them all down will kill me faster than my shady, pot-smoking neighbors!

I don't know why it surprises me that good things happen when I work hard for them. Must be all the acid I dropped in the 60s.

*smooches...letting my mind wander*
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I do this more times than I care to admit.

Trauma

I haven't been feeling well (of mind, body OR spirit) lately so OF COURSE I indulged in some heavy Netflix action this weekend. No working out, no quality time with anyone, no writing. Just me, my sofa and my computer. What was supposed to be a cleansing session of vegging out and disconnecting from the world turned into...not that. Why? Because I saw John Cusack's butt in the film The Paperboy.

It was not a cute butt. AT. ALL.

I get that he was playing a sleazeball, murderous, white trash, swamp-dwelling redneck. I totally understand that. But...his butt...you guys...I can't...



I've never said that my love for John was based on animal attraction. It was never even sexual, ever. It was always on an intellectual level. His essence speaks to my mind and it's a total turn-on. I was attracted to the person, and always just felt he was the kind of man I needed in my life. Just...a better butt wouldn't hurt. At all.

Needless to say I've not fully recovered from this yet. Oh, but the movie was good so you should watch it.

*smooches...trying to recover from this blow*
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list this under the things I never wanted to see or know

Birthday Vacation Countdown: "Something About--"

--your stance, your presence
holding grinding melodic tones
infusing me with rhythm

your sweat dripping, dangling
off the ends of each curl

your fingers dancing over
chords; their swiftness a
grandeur before me

I wait for that gust of wind
to expose your face, deep
into the riffs and progressions
I close my eyes and I can see it

Your music..
You...

are those your bedroom eyes?

do your lips taste sweet behind
that cloud of smoke, with ashes
scattered about your feet?

do you sway that way
when the lights go out?
if it were just us in a room
with no eyes?

just another cool cat in a top hat?
with something about him?

what would our song be?

*smooches...remembering how we became one eight years ago*
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Irene remembers; she was there when I got my first tat :)

Exciting Empire-Like Things

As you saunter off into the weekend to enjoy the sunshine and bunnies and avocado masks (I honestly don't know what you people do), take these tiny morsels of goodness with you: The Jaded Empire has been hard at work and it's paying off!

First- I pitched, organized and booked a literary program at The New School in time for Latino Heritage Month. WHAAT WHAAAAAAT?!?!?! I KNOW!!!!

I'm moderating it, and the panelists I asked to join the panel will be discussing life as a working writer and the courage it takes to tell their stories. AND I PUT IT ALL TOGETHER!!!

Also, SO EXCITED that I'm probably going to get to meet Junot Diaz at The New Yorker Festival next month. WHOOP WHOOP!!!!

And I'm launching a new site next week. LAAAWWWWWWDDDDDDD what am I doing to my nerves?

Finally, I'm co-hosting a fitness event through Baobab Wellness and it will feel great to finally have another health & wellness shindig under my belt. This one has sponsors and everything. CHILD. I'm in the big leagues now!

What's new in your world?

*smooches...overwhelmed but in a good way*
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wait- is there even a good way in which to be overwhelmed? Whatever dawg...

A Jaded Moment In History Presents: I'm A Native New Yorker

When I was little and locked in my ivory tower, my cousin Minnie and I would, on occasion, pass the time by putting on records and singing along as if we were the artists. I know, lots of kids did this, I'm sure, but we raised it to an art form.

We had dance routines. We had a highly rated variety show that even went so far as to break for commercial (READ: we pressed PAUSE on the tape deck).

One group we played a lot was Odyssey. We had lots of great albums at my grandparents' house and they were the bees' knees to us. More so because we played them at a higher speed than we were supposed to (think of your favorite songs sung by the chipmunks). Our favorite was "The Woman Behind the Man."


(I wish I could have found a sped-up version so you can get the full effect of our playtime shenanigans.)

I'm sad to report that the lead singer of Odyssey, Lillian Lopez, died on September 5. She never knew it, and maybe she knows it now if there's an afterlife, but she was a huge part of my childhood.

And she will always make me SUPER PROUD to be a Latina born in this great City in the 70s. Rest in peace, sister.



*smooches...sad to have lost another one*
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they're dropping like flies...my childhood idols are LEAVING ME!

Mari Speaks On...

...her beau, Yankee shortstop Derek Jeter, and his sexual orientation.

ME: He's gay? How is he gay?

MARI: How is he gay? I don't know! He likes men!

*smooches...still recuperating from my long weekend*
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this girl is CRAZY. she really is.

A Jaded Moment In History Presents: We Had Famous Dishes

Back in the day I was the BIGGEST "Beverly Hills, 90210" fan that ever lived, mostly because I had an enormous girl crush on Shannen Doherty. Oh yeah, I followed that brown-haired beauty from "Little House on the Prarie" to "Our House" to Heathers like a true stalker, and now there she was, on my TV every week.

While indulging on my newest nighttime obsession, I noticed that during an innocuous scene in the first season, the Walsh family HAD THE SAME DISHES MY MOM HAD JUST PURCHASED!! You don't even understand how much I cherished those plates. I wanted to dance in the streets and tell everyone that passed by, "Brenda Walsh and I drink from the same cup!!!"


(ffwd to 0:07 and you'll notice the mug Cindy Walsh hands Brandon is the pink/blue version of Mami's green/blue mug, as seen below. The Walshes were so cool they had the pink AND the blue set. I was so jealous!)

MY DISHES ARE FAMOUS!

 Today, not many of those dishes still survive. I think Mami has all the mugs but only three or four of the plates. Every time I visit her and see them in the cabinet, I remember that special bond Brenda and I shared-the endless cups of cocoa and tea we had from our famous dishes as we chatted about that bitch Kelly and that backstabber Dylan. Oh what a time we had!

*smooches...realizing that my crazy started way back when*
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I suppose I was just born nut-so!

ALSO, please ffwd to 2:58 in the clip to see my favorite Brenda/Dylan scene of all time. OF ALL TIME!

Is Marriage For Women Or Men?

This weekend I had a friend comment that marriage only benefits women and the men always end up losing (you can already guess that this friend has a Y-chromosome *side eye*), and then I watched the latest episode of Kathy Griffin's talk show where Jane Fonda stated that men are the ones who need marriage, not women.

My friend's claim was, of course, based on what a woman gets after the marriage ends. Women (for the most part) are quick to get custody of the kids, home, etc and are entitled alimony and child support in many cases. I can see how men see themselves as "losing" in that scenario. But what if it's a marriage that doesn't end in divorce? Does he still lose?

What I understood of Fonda's comment, however, was that women tend to have these deep, meaningful relationships and networks with one another that last forever and tend to fulfill us, something that men don't necessarily have. Therefore they need marriage to feel that connection with someone else, something that us women already experience with our BFFs. So technically we don't need marriage to feel fulfilled. Fonda, of course, has been married three times and decided that was enough; she now lives with her longtime boyfriend with zero plans to ever wed again.

Interesting thoughts.

In my own experience, I'd have to agree more with Fonda than with my friend. I stayed married more for the kids than anything else. And then of course there's the fact that I had low self-esteem and felt I was nothing, etc, plus some lingering Catholic tendencies, so I had to make the marriage work. But once I picked myself up and saw that I could be my own person and do for myself without him, I didn't think twice about leaving, and the support I got from my friends was just what Fonda described. I knew I was going to be just fine.

My ex? VERY SHORTLY after our split he dove into a serious relationship and is now married, while the kid here gallivanted through life enjoying the City, new friends, travel and of course, my BFFs.

So you tell me- who does it really benefit?

*smooches...living my single life like it's golden*
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until, of course, someone puts a ring on it; then I'll be singing a different tune lol

How The Kardashians Pissed Off This Dominican

"Keeping Up with the Kardashians" is my trash TV guilty pleasure. There, I've said it. I relish in all their crappy, fake problems and eat it up like an endless batch of delicious Buffalo wings. I also indulged in the spin-offs and specials; basically, whatever they televise I WILL WATCH. Don't judge me.

The latest episode, however, had me questioning whether or not I can continue to support their shenanigans. Why? Because they kept botching up the name and "image" of my beloved motherland!

FIRST OF ALL the entire clan kept referring to DR as The Dominican. *side eye* Last I checked, we were still a republic and it was reflected in our country's name.

SECONDLY, during scene changes, etc, they kept playing mariachi music and talking about going to snack on some chips and guacamole. *double side-eye* Listen here, non-Latinos, because I'm about to explain something to you once and for all:

DOMINICANS ARE NOT MEXICANS. MEXICANS ARE NOT PUERTO RICANS. PUERTO RICANS ARE NOT VENEZUELAN. VENEZUELANS ARE NOT PANAMANIANS. And so on and so forth. Yes, we all speak Spanish but each country is different, has different roots, a different history and even a different way of bastardizing the Spanish language. You can't just lump us together all the time and expect that shit to go over well, RYAN SEACREST (yes, I blame him. We all know he's the puppetmaster behind this bullshit).

Now, I'm gonna watch the rest of the season ONLY BECAUSE Khloe and Lamar cancelled their show and I'm obsessed with them and I hope to see glimpse of them in future episodes. Still, the Kardashians are officially on Jaded Alert!

*smooches...tired of TVs racial agenda*
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that's right, I SAID IT! TV has a racial agenda and I won't stand for it anymore...right after this season of "Keeping Up with the Kardashians"...

Brooklyn In Mourning

First we lose Adam Yauch (aka McA) of the legendary Beastie Boys, then literary giant Maurice Sendak. It's almost to much to bear. And it's not fair.

"I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I miss them more..."
-Maurice Sendak, 1928-2012

*smooches...for everyone left behind*
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it's not been an easy few days over here

I Want Gerlado To Shut The Hell Up.

The problem with freedom of speech is that you have to extend the right to morons, too. This never upsets me more than when so-called journalists and people with a lot of notoriety are reckless with what they say publicly.

Last week, Geraldo Rivera tweeted that Trayvon Martin's hooded sweatshirt was as much to blame for his death as the man who shot him. That Blacks and Latinos need to warn their children about wearing the popular garment, as it may result in them being perceived as suspicious troublemakers.

First of all, I want to punch Geraldo in the face SO HARD for that statement, which, I tweeted back to him, is akin to telling a woman her mini-skirt was to blame for her rape. Are we still on this clothing shit? We're blaming the victim because he wore a garment that is worn by young men and women--of all backgrounds--across the country? A basic piece of outerwear that's meant to keep us warm in the spring and fall? Get all the way the fuck out of here, Geraldo, and have a seat.

Second, it divides us as a people, GERALDO, when you sit there trying to rep your Latino background but then do us a disservice by not acknowledging what's really going on. People who look to you (for whatever reason) might take your comment and feel like they're wrong for being upset with the system or with the shooter. Don't shame us in this way. We have a right to be outraged. A hoodie had NOTHING to do with this.

Lastly, his ignorant statement trivializes the fact that a young Black man was pursued, shot and killed by a racist, wannabe cop who targeted him for the simple fact that he was black and walking around in a gated community, even after the 911 dispatcher told him not to get out of his car.

I've always thought Geraldo was full of it. Even as a little girl the sight of his stupid, mustached face annoyed me to no ends. His latest comment (an attempt at hogging the spotlight?) just validated my initial opinion.

*smooches...tired of these pundits twisting the truth*
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y'all wonder why I don't bother with the news...

She Called Me Out, Yo!

*smooches...hearing stuff I already knew*
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Patti is the main reason I quit all carnal activities almost two years ago. She be knowing.