I lost a friend but not my soul

I was told by someone once that I seem to have an axe to grind with white people...or I am upset because I am married to a white woman...or was it the fact that I always point out when I see that folks haven't learned shit from 146 years of supposed emancipation.

Sigh, I hate when I have to get serious...makes my 425th pubic hair itch.

I had an idea for a book that I was planning (well, hoping) to write with someone who is, well, when it compares to my fluff, someone who should of been published and on "Oprah" (well, before she decided to say 'let's go ahead and blow my millions on a network that no one is gonna watch') by now. We have, well, agreed to disagree on a lot of things when it comes to the matters of black and white. Never disrespectful, just disagreed.

She's white, I'm black.

But with this story, it was my hope to tell a story as like two people who were writing a diary, and race would have little to do with it...even though it had to play some part in this story. I was convinced it would of been a kick ass book, and perhaps it would of helped us both reach our dreams.

But then we stopped speaking. I know I am at fault somewhat, as that disagreements always have two sides to build the bridge of discontent. I have this horrible habit of assuming that folks may or may not like me, even tho most times I 89.725% of the time don't give two rat fornication's if people like me or not...

...except for those people who I really want to, well, like me.

It's sort of an odd cluster-screw, cuz I say what is on my mind, and if something is wrong that I see, I am dying to get discussion started.

However, some think I am just some mixed-up, bitter black dude who doesn't know who he is, or thinks that the country is divided.

Well, I still stand by the fact that this country is still quite divided by race, even if some folks simply want to wish that it didn't exist.

I wrote nearly 3 years ago that our current President may not be ready for his job. I didn't jump up and down (even though I smiled when he was elected) when the United States elected its first non-white prez. I always thought of myself as objective, not backing someone cuz they may belong to a certain group...and certainly not because he happened to have some of the same melanin as I do.

3 years later, the man is probably looking at a one term presidency, mostly because the country is worse off than it was...

...but a good chunk cuz some folks can't get over the fact we're not on the cotton fields anymore.

But, back to my friend....if I can still call her that.

I am sad, really...cuz there are some things she said in the last conversation we had that did hit home...but it isn't for the reasons she pointed out. It was a reminder of my flaws, yes...but she missed the point of who I was, or didn't bother to ask "why" truly when I do or did the things I do.

I don't have many friends. Not the ones that call, or ask me to dinner, and it has also negatively affected how some folks treat my wife.

The whole "guilt by association" deelio.

But you know something?

I have a friend who is bigoted as they come...but would take a bullet for me. He sees color, but he ridicules it for his own pleasure...but I get him. Redneck like, "wigger-ish" at times, but I get him.

He's that cool asshole that irritates you, yet makes you laugh at the same time.

I know I am going all over the place, so let met tie things up as best I can.

September has been an odd month for me...and I've learned a few things, made some dumb mistakes, and am on the edge of a drastic change in life unless a miracle comes from the heavens.

The big thing that sticks with me is that, well, I have a lot to learn still, even at 42. I also know that my friend has a lot to learn as well. I know that I wish people were just, well people. That if you didn't like someone, it has more to do with their character, not whether or not they were gay, black, white, Jewish, purple, whatever.

But that will never happen, because the seeds of ignorance is always watered every generation, and weeds pop up.

As for my friend, I wish I could write that book with her. I think it would be a lesson for those who read it; a good read...and perhaps there would be knowledge between her and I...and maybe I wouldn't scare folks away, and she wouldn't think that my attempts at what I (and I say I, as that my opinion is what it is, an opinion)see is generally that we are fucked as a race...the human variety.

And not talking about it ain't gonna fix it.

Anywho, I cry about that book. I think Oprah may have come out of retirement for that one.

I wonder if God knows we're screwing this up

Ugh.

There are times that my mind sort of goes on a long term vacation...especially when it comes to writing. With all of life's distractions, there simply isn't much to say...deep, funny, or otherwise.

Then it sort of wakes up...sort of like when my mom used to put that cold wash cloth to get me up in the morning (I would like to return the favor one day, but even tho she is vertically challenged and 63 years old, she is still quick and would kick my flattened ass). It could come to me while dropping my "kids off in the pool" (yeah, nasty, but well, this is me), making dinner out of a box, or watching how flies mate (the Midwest can be slow moving at times).

In this particular instance, I was sitting down seeing if my youngest would actually tick me off and pee in the tub while giving him a bath (it's a twisted game with the youth; he stands up, looks at his boy parts, and then sees if I'll cover him up with the wash cloth b4 he tints his bathwater), and I remembered a conversation from the night before with the oldest concerning the fact that his mother is white, and I am a lovely shade of deep chocolate (always sweeter, duh!). Any who, when I advised the boy that he was part-black, he crumbled in a ball and started crying. This perturbed me slightly, as that, well, the child acted like his feelings was hurt.

After he cried for a few moments, I attempted to explain to him that this wasn't a big deal, but whatever "damage" I inflicted from informing the boy of his cultural mixture was done. He then proclaimed "I don't want to be black!" which sort of ended our conversation. For once, I, master of the quip, was rendered silent.

A couple of weeks later, the boy mentioned to me about 3 young children of African descent, who, based on his description, looked like rejects from "Another Bad Creation" (For those who do not remember these R&B/Hip Hop hybrid "pioneers", see here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbrScSrELoE). Any who x 2, he mentioned that these 3 kids were the only kids that caused trouble on the bus he rides every day. Now, normally, I would just shrug this off and advise him to not associate with these kids if he could...then I flashed back to the whole "black thing" from a few weeks prior. Trying once again to bring the subject up, I futility attempted to break down that just because a few kids are bad apples, doesn't mean all kids like this are the same. When he gave me the "like this" look again, I had to once again bring race into the equation. Of course, instead of absorbing my years of wisdom on the subject (i.e., these where the type of stereotypical kids who kicked my ass, took my coat, stole my money, mugged me 3 times, made me feel like a wuss, always got the girl...yeah, I'm taking about you, Pamela Grant, Juliet...blah blah blah...and no, I don't need therapy, damn it!) he then gazed off at some box of some sort I had sitting on my armoire.

Curses, foiled the *&^% again.

The racial subject hasn't been broached since, but it got me to thinking (well, it did 2 weeks ago when I started writing this; as I said, my mind falls asleep sometimes...nah, I just stop giving a shit) about how I approach the entire conversation of race, or differences in cultures in general. A good friend of mine (actually, a couple of them; yes, yes, people actually put up with my bullshit for longer than 5 minutes) told me that I bring the subject of race up too much in my humor and observations. Now, the first time, it sort of hurt my feelings...the 2nd time, it made me think a tad bit, and I began to wonder if they had excellent points (beyond the fingers that were pointing at me, saying "U're Greg, not Greg the black dude with the massive penis." On 2nd thought, I would of been flattered if the one female who shared her opinion was thinking that, but let's get off the ego trip).

Then I began to think about y is it a bad thing to consider the human race's cultural differences; or better yet, y not make fun of the ignorant thoughts people have for one another, just because one person may prefer spaghetti cuz their culture taught them this, or another may enjoy a good piece of fried chicken cuz "mama" made it in that big as cast iron frying pan that weighed like a fat woman's left breast.

OK, that metaphor even disturbed me a tad.

Any who III, after looking at this back and forth and sideways, I started staring at my kids more than usual (and not in the "oh hell no, u didn't say that 2 me, u little zebra bastard!" way I normally do).

Oops, noticed differences again.

I guess here's my conclusion on all this. My mom once told me that I better not marry a white woman. Well, after I couldn't find a black woman that found me interesting enough to talk to, much less spend the rest of their lives with me, I fell in love and got married to a pretty cool female, and had 2 beautiful, albeit mind-numbingly annoying kids. I look at the beauty of 2 cultures, and let's face it, while they got that quote, unquote "good hair" (hey, I'm the first to admit...Caucasians got the good deal from God on that one...'cept when they don't wash it...then it sort of resembles the janitor's mop from high school u didn't want to be alone in the hallway with), they have a better chance of passing for Latinos than Caucasians.

But what's the big deal, right? I tease my wife for her occasional "whiteness" (old school 50's groups and her love of "The Sounds of Music"), she hates the fact that I still listen to Hip-Hop at 41 ("blackness") my oldest listens to movie scores like I do (hopefully not "gayness", not that I'd cut him off, but he's too fine and there r 2 many women on this planet to waste that gift), and we are all linked together by our love and our different cultures. As for my sense of humor and mentioning the fact that I'm black all the time...well, perhaps I need to back off on that.

But I am not going to run away from it. I am a male of African descent. Old white women still get nervous around me at times, even tho I dress more like my dad these days than T.I. (also reference this for those who think T.I. is a sexually transmitted disease - "Oh Shit, I got the T.I.; knew I should of wrapped it!" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/T.I.) People's ignorance will live on until someone says "Hey, let's judge this guy or gal based on their character, not because of what the media or grandma told me to think!"

If I unintentionally contributed to this decline, I apologize.

But I also think by saying "hey, I laugh at myself for ALL that I am, including my quirks or what people assume a person of color should act like", perhaps I am taking a little brick out of the wall of stupidity.

Not a bad trade-off, in my opinion.

As for my boy, hopefully his nervousness around the young men practicing for the next rap video (or rap sheet) doesn't slander his thoughts as he continues to grow.

Dear God, we royally fouled this crap up, didn't we?

OK, off to bed next to my white....oh wait, my wife.

Typo.

The "Brother-Dent", Part Deux

America...home of the double digit unemployment rate, can't find a job havin', confused 48 year old black president, headin' towards a Sarah Palin Presidency of the brave.

(OK, maybe the Palin thing was a bit much; that woman is only good for kneepads and bad Katie Couric interviews).

A lot of folks here in the ol' U.S. of A are a little ticked off at our history-makin' prez. Ya see, the man, I believe, didn't read the fine print on the "be careful what you wish for" manifesto when he got picked for this job.

He's had a few flub ups (the xmas plane thing, the major flaws in his health care plan, Joe Biden sticking his own penis in his mouth a few times, etc). He spent his 1st State of the Disjointed (oh wait, I meant "Union") apologizing for the, well, non-existent progress that has taken place under his command. Ok, the Dow has bounced back somewhat...but realistically, that's the only good news that has taken place in the 373 days (as of this posting) the man has taken office.

Now, as a person of color, of course this bothers me a tad, as that the fact that this country, after, oh, nearly 233 years got its head out of its Declaration of Ass-apendence and decided "hey, let's not pick another middle-aged white dude who couldn't give a shit about anyone except, well, other middle aged white dudes, and give the black guy a shot." And while (as I mentioned in my previous post in 2008) I know folks of melanin-surplus are still happy that President Obama hasn't had his ass blown off in the literal sense, there are still plenty of bullets hitting the man due to, well, him not performing the miracle of cutting unemployment in half, kicking bank's asses for putting us into this mess by lending people $ that they knew they couldn't pay back, f'ing around in Afghanistan (note to Barrack: it's never good for the leader of the free world to himmer and hum over a military decision...indecisiveness will get u back to Illinois to cry over the White Sox REAL quick), and general "duh!" moments.

Now, President Obama is a brilliant man, and he can put together a hell of a speech to make you feel good about yourself. And to be honest, I think he is the first guy that I've seen that I don't feel like "eh...he's full of shit!" when he speaks. (Not to say that he doesn't get facts wrong, i.e. like the "you lie!" comment a while back).

Sadly tho, he is a too logical of a man, trying to bring together 2 parties that, well, could give 2 craps about the American public that has put them in their seats in the first place. "We have to be right" is the motto of both their parties, with neither one trying to consult their constituents. And now, with Mr. Obama losing his filibuster-proof majority, he is on a slippery slope that will lead to lame-duck status 2 years before it (may) happen (once the Democrats get swept out of office in November, barring a major comeback of his presidency).

I am not hating on Barrack Obama. It would be an honor to meet the man...if for only the fact that he has shown other melanin-plus folk that you don't have to run a football or have a fancy slam dunk to be someone memorable in this country. In that, he'll go down in history.

However, he's headed towards Jimmy Carter-ville if things don't swing around quickly.

A final point, then I'm gonna make dinner.

No one is giving the guy a break. Have you EVER seen this much coverage of a sitting president in the last 50 years?

President Obama is doing this....Obama is doing that...Obama wiped his ass and tissue was hanging from his trousers.

Gawd, this is why I didn't pursue a career in Journalism, despite my degree. The media is so full of shit, Miralax said "screw that, I can't fix this plug up."

He's black. If this guy was your typical white dude prez, unless we were nuking whatthefuckitscallastan, it wouldn't even get to the late part of the news.

We are holding him to a higher standard because he is "the first"...and that just isn't right. If John McCain won, would the media care (outside if the old fart was wearing Depends during the State of the Union)?

Nooooooooooooooooo.

Be real...at least I am holding him to a standard of this regard...

...perhaps he just didn't read that damned fine print on the "President of the U.S.A" job description.

Well, it may not matter.

If things don't turn around fast, we'll be back to those stiff middle age melanin deprived dudes again...

...or worse, we'll be renting "Whose Nailin' Palin" video if Sarah P gets a shot.

Might as well...we're getting screwed anyway. Might as well enjoy it.

Wow, there's a Negro choice, too?

I hate fat free pretzels.

Actually, that's utter bull poopies, cuz I just at 27 of them. Yeah, I counted the mofo's, cuz, well, I gotta do that now. In the last few months, I've seen pictures of me @ 28, 30, and 32.

I was a sexy bitch back then.

Good looking, skin wasn't looking like someone pee'd all over it, muscles were there, and I had an ass that would turn a gay preacher into a sinner (thanks for the lyric, Mr. Nelson). But now, hell, I'd wouldn't do me if I was a mobster ordered on a hit.

So diets suck butt cream.

But anywho, enough about moi.

About 4 days before this post (I think that's right; my sleep apnea has wrecked my mind so much, I couldn't name you ONE teacher or professor I had in my 16 years of schooling...wait, there was Mr. Cormincan, English professor...he looked like George Carlin (RIP) if he was a child molester smoking crack and sipping Yoo-Hoo's), I saw a news story about fellow folks of color getting shitty because on the upcoming census, one of the choices defining we dark-folks was the term "Negro." Now, this caused my eye to raise slightly, as I was on a hot streak of a rip-off pop-a-shot video game I was playing on my iPhone.

(Sadly, I am not a gamer; I'm more of a farter with rhythm, but that's another post for another day).

Anyway, all the popular so-called "leaders" (last time I checked, bout the only time black folks have exercised their right to vote was when B-Obama showed up, so I must of missed their election) of we "African-Americans" were all in an uproar, demanding that, oh, 300 million census documents have the term "Negro" removed.

Damn...that's a hell of a job @ Fed-Ex Kinkos/Office, or whatever it's called these days.

So after I finished playing my basketball game (as well as dispelling that lovely rumor that my melanin kind can actually shoot a basketball), I paid a little more attention to the story, then sat back for a moment to ponder this lovely little bit of information. It is amazing how much time you have to think when, well, you haven't collected a check for 20 out of the past 25 months or so.

(Damn it, that was about me, wasn't it? Son of a biscuit and gravy...sorry about that).

Now, I was born in 1969, right after Dr. King was "rudely dispatched", and about 2 years after interracial marriage (oh shit...I just realize my wife was white...well damn it, that explains the sunburn!) became legal in the U.S. I have been called "nigger" exactly twice...once while driving in Columbus OH, and I think one time walking in who knows where city back in my "G is a mad ho" tour of the mid 90's. Growing up in the Bronx, of course, "my nigga" was used frequently amongst my associates, and most of my life it, well, never truly bothered me. I rarely used it (actually I take that back, I never did use it, because my parents, who grew up in the Deep South during the time where hoses were used on them instead of watering yards and washing cars) would of, to quote the former wrestler Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, "whooped my candy ass!" Now, with my just discovered her name wasn't "Carliqua"wife, and my degenerating sense of humor, I have been guilty of throwing the "n" word around in, well I admit, a poorly chosen way to be amusing at times. My wife is no racist (unless she had a "pity the dark child" moment when she married me) so she let it roll off, as if it was my right to use the word.

So, after the story, I sat down and tried to see what the relevance of this whole thing was, and why it was causing an uproar. As that I have never had a fire hose turned on me for any reason, or been beaten because I reflect light better than Caucasians, I probably didn't have as strong of a reaction as, say, my mother, father, and the rest of their generation (and the surviving generation before them, which is, sadly, dwindling) would, and bluntly, should have.

Then I thought about a post I did in 2008 about being "politically correct", and understanding that, well, words are deadly things at times, and God knows I've been cut by them more than I can count, ultimately it is up to the person that the words are being hurled towards to let them hurt you or not (unless there is truth in them, which, well, is an unavoidable pain if it is a sensitive subject).

So here I sit, divided on this word that has caused a lot of damage in this "United" States (I am sorry, we haven't been United except when we kicked the poor Indians off their own damned land), trying to see its relevance, from how this story made the news (anything that sucks always get front and center, doesn't it?) and why, ultimately, folks can't just say "screw it" and move on.

My oldest son asked me today why did people of different races had to be divided, and had to do things separately.

7 years old...didn't think I had to broach this subject this quickly.

My son is Negro (dictionary meaning: "a member of a dark-skinned group of peoples originally native to Africa south of the Sahara) and Caucasian ( often offensive of or relating to one of the traditional divisions of humankind, covering a broad group of peoples from Europe, western Asia, and parts of India and North Africa).

I tried to break it down the best way I could.

He said "that's so stupid."

Exactly...just like getting bent over a word, where, while understandably hurtful, and those who have had the power for 233 semi-odd years don't quite understand why it is, should be just let go of.

Then again, that is as likely to happen as FedEx Office finding the time to change the census forms.

Damn it, Now I gotta get a bowl of cereal...stupid deep thoughts at 1:17 in the morning.

Brother Athletes, Entertainers, Etc...listen to a broke black man, please!

Tyson. Vick. MC Hammer.

You know, I play the Lottery about 2-3 times a week, hoping against hope that I can escape the likelihood that I will be just another rat in the cage call working for someone else, helping to make some fat cat rich. It always irritated me to no end, working for someone else. I've been out of work, outside a couple of temp assignments, for 18 months, and while i hate working, I hate not having any money more.

As a child, I loved to play baseball, and a friend of mine once said that they have never seen anyone turn on a fastball like I could in my youth.

Sadly, I couldn't say the same on a slider, curve, or anything else that wasn't down the pipe or a mistake over the plate. And my fielding is best describe as Jose Feliciano taking the field, with a little bit of Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, and Bill Buckner on the side.

So, I wasn't going to make lots of cash as an athlete. I am a firm believer that some folks are, well, always going to be poor, most of us may make enough to get by, and a few lucky folks, whether it's talent or good genes, are going to live in the incredible houses, drive the nicest cars, and eat a $200 steak without blinking an eye.

Just the way of the world, I guess.

However, I guess what boggles my mind are those folks who, well, have it all, and for some inexplicable reason, they throw it away.

My wife and I (mostly me, as my wife plays along with it to soothe my ego) often talk about what it would be like to win millions of dollars, and what we'd do with the money. Get a bigger house, set up a trust fund for my youngest, pay for college for the oldest, take care of the parents, and so on and so on.

The big thing for me, however, is to make sure that my azz would never, ever go broke...or return to the time where I didn't know what bill I'd pay. Be too scared to get back there again.

I would think, if one went from the outhouse to the Penthouse, that would make sense.

But let's get to the 3 names I started this entry with.

Mike Tyson I read somewhere made over 300 million dollars in his career.

300 Million Mofo dollars.

Brother is broke, looking like someone went apeshit on his face with all those dumb ass tatoos. (Note, don't tell this to Mike; as that I know he isn't what he was, he could still whup me pretty good).

Michael Vick...lost over $100 million....over a few thousand dollar bets on dogfighting, as well as possibly his career. Now I don't know, but lessee....

$100 Million is > than a few thousand. I sucked at math, but I'm pretty sure about that one.

MC Hammer...sold 27 million albums (don't lie...you know a lot of you bought "U can't touch this")....now is spoofing himself on Nationwide commercials on how he lost it all.

I just can't accept this in my dome that these fellows, and a lot like them, had it all, and then like idiots blew it all. And most of these folks came from poor, uneducated backgrounds.

Sigh.

As that I have never (and probably never will) had that sort of cash lying around, I can't understand how you would just break the neck of the golden goose, and scramble all of her eggs, And it always seems to be the brothers who keep doing this to themselves. It's mind boggling. Now, there are great exceptions (Will Smith, the former "Fresh Prince" pulls nearly 30 mill a film, and the two films his production company has produced have been hits that didn't involve government buildings exploding). But it seems that every time I turn around, I see some famous brother (right, Chris Brown? What's your new song..."Smack that?") totally screwing up and losing everything.

I guess my feeling is, if you hated being poor/broke/average/whatever, why would you want to go back?

Dunno...if I ever get 6 numbers on a winning ticket, I'll ask myself that question as I try to avoid dogs, carrying my "friends" via blowing my fortune, beating up my hot girlfriend (if I was single and had one; I'll go with not beating up the mother of my children, too), or not getting therapy for my anger management problems.

Just a thought.

Vanilla Preferences When You Are A Chocolate Mr. Goodbar

Eh yo and whatnot....

I happened to check the date of my last post....damn, it's been awhile, hasn't it?

You'll have to forgive me; I tend to, well, stop giving 2 wipes of a charmin sheet when it comes to my writing at times. I guess it comes from 100 or so rejection letters for manuscripts I actually had hope that someone might want to publish. Hell, who wouldn't want to read these classics....

"Are Black Gay Guys the Original 'Bro-mance'"
"Toejams: Not Just for Soups and Dips Anymore"

...and my personal favorite manuscript:

"Holy Crap, You Are One Ugly Mutha (What, I Am Just Talkin' About that Ugly Bitch On Da Corner)"

Sigh...anyway, let's move on!

I am actually currently sitting in a hospital room as my 3 year old is getting over some surgery (tonsils and the like; fun shit, I tell ya) and I figured that as that I am in a children's hospital, and I can't catch "SportsCenter", I figured I'd try to get the old juices floating again...

...so it can be read by the big 3 to 4 people who even bother with this thing...:)

Ok then...

I have come to a quick conclusion about myself after nearly 40 years on this planet (and about 32 years after I figured out that having ladies play with my penis, well, feels good). I have been married for 9 years in a couple of weeks to a wonderful lady, and I chuckled over the fact that she's put up with my backside for so long. As I was pondering this thought, a lovely woman of color, dressed to the hilt in business attire (major, major turn on for the G, I tell ya), and as far as I can tell, this sister didn't have problem getting dates back in the day (lady was married; saw the major "bling" on her finger, so as far as I can tell based on the size of her diamond on the wedding ring, her husband has 6 jobs and donates blood once a week to pay for the thing).

Normally (and thank God my wife is understanding of this, otherwise I'd be the one with 6 jobs and donating blood to pay off my alimony) when a woman dressed as this passes me be, I at the very least gave in her direction, raising my right eybrow and saying "lawd....chilli sauce!" (A Morris Day reference, for those not down with the funk) before continuing on to whatever or wherever I was doing/going. However, as lovely as this woman was, beyond a quick glance (due to that business suit), I continued to head towads McDonald's to hasten my own demise with sausage gravy and biscuits helping the cause.

A few minutes later, I was headed back to my son's room when I saw that same woman checking out a book fair that was going on at the hospital. I glanced again, and began to chuckle to myself, as an old thought crept back into my mind as I continued my trek back to my baby boy's place of recovery...

...it takes an absolutely gorgeous black woman to make me say my "chili sauce" line....yet, an average white/hispanic/whatever race you can think of woman, as long as they are my physical type, will turn my head at least 10 times more often.

For years, that bothered me...it has been something like 21 years since I dated a woman of color, mostly because a lot of "sisters" (I never felt comfortable with terms such as these, as that while as I understand the entire racial solidarity thing, I have 2 half sisters by relation, and that's about it. But we'll go with this term for now) didn't think I was, well, "black enough" or strong enough to be their man.

Interesting theory, I thought....as that, well, if I strolled into a KKK meeting, I am quite sure they'll think I was more than "black enough"...as they would force me to, well, "hang around."

(Bad joke, I know...moving on...)

That isn't to say that I married my wife, who happens to be Caucasian, simply because she burns in any kind of sunlight and I hoped her nipples were pink. My lady is my buddy, and that is what makes our marraige work during the good and crappy, 16 month with no paycheck times (not that I am complaining...lol). But all of us have preferences, and over the years, a non-black woman (with the exception of, say, Janet, Halle, Stacey Dash (that fine sister from the film "Clueless) and a couple of others who are so not coming to mind right now, most of fantasy I have involve ladies with hair that doesn't need "Afro-Sheen."

Does that make me a sellout, or a "victim" of going to college and being exposed to a whole new world from my days in the Bronx?

Who the hell knows.

I remember having a massive crush (and what I consider, one of my great mistakes as a teen) on a lovely West Indian girl named Juliet...she was gorgeous, with a heart to match. Dug this girl since the 8th grade. To quote a famous Aerosmith track, I was truly a "High School Loser, never made it with the ladies" sort of dork. 11th grade rolls around, and I finally got to date her...she was in love with me, I thought I had the perfect girl...until a Hispanic girl named Serena showed up, and I forgot Juliet existed...broke up with her to chase Serena down...and ended up alone.

Thank god for a video rental card, access to the porn section, and a strong right hand.

Yeah, that was gross...

...but the point was, hell, "sisters" after my last girlfriend of color in my freshman year of college just thought I sucked as bad as singers named Mike liked little boys.

I guess that is what sort of set me off towards looking elsewhere. The ladies of the "Non-Negro Leagues", whether it was for the fascination with black men (and the supposed stereotypes) or just figuring I was different from what they were used to, found me intertesting and funny (especially once I finally gained confidence in myself in my mid 20's) and wanted to date me.

The "sisters"?

I was too odd, too out there, too "Carlton"-like for their tastes (probably because you could hear rap music come out of my car one minute, and whatever rock band that was popular at the time coming out the next).

I always wanted to expand my horizons...I just wished at the time that a woman of color, one who could truly understand and share the experience of being black in america, wouldn't of minded to travel with me.

Anyway, my son is sitting in my wife's arms, in some pain as that part of his throat is rotting in some tray somewhere in the hospital that I am sitting in now. I just looked at her, and she picked up some new glasses, which I think look really cute on her. I see her ever day, and while we do toss some race-related sarcasm towards one another, I for my part see a woman that I married for who she is, and not because she used suntan lotion # 45 (or whatever the hell rating that crap has on it; can ya see that I am not a white dude? LOL).

So a woman who is non black may get my attention faster than a black woman would.

I guess I sort of blame myself for that, true.

But, as in divorce, perhaps the fault may involve both parties...or no fault at all.

We all develop preferences on what we do or do not like...guess that's what makes us human, unique, and well, us.

Damn it, just realized something....Halle and Stacey are half-white. F'd up that theory, huh?

Chili sauce!