SUIT YOUR LIFE: 7 FATHER’S DAY GIFT IDEAS THAT ARE NOT A TIE

Check out the first piece for my new Suit Your Life fashion column with Black Enterprise Magazine. Enjoy.

http://www.blackenterprise.com/2011/06/17/7-fathers-day-gift-ideas-not-a-tie/

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Take 1

HEARTS 4 HAITI

A Brooklyn Haiku

Slept with the girl of my dreams
We met that same night
Woke up still dreaming

But when she opened her eyes,
She smiled like nothing had changed.
But I could feel the difference in the way she blinked
Like waking was a reset, I did not survive.
I had never wanted morning less.

.

AM I A WHORE BY BLOOD?

I got a call from my cousin tonight. What started as a quick check-in turned into one of the deeper conversations we have had in a long time. We ended up talking about the future, about legacy, and eventually, about love. He asked me, “Do you believe people truly want to be in love?” That question, simple as it was, cracked something open in me.

Without hesitation, I said, “Yes.”

He let out an “Oh” that was less of a response and more of a dismissal. The kind that carries the weight of judgment, as if I had just revealed myself to be embarrassingly naive. But I pressed on. Maybe out of stubbornness. Maybe because I still believed he was one of the few men who might truly understand how I felt, someone who shared not only my bloodline but also the scars that came with it.

I reminded him of how both our fathers died. Men with large bank accounts, multiple homes scattered across continents, closets full of tailored suits and custom shoes, and long lists of romantic conquests. Yet none of those women were at their bedsides when the end came. When my father suffered a stroke, the only woman he trusted enough to help him sort through his affairs was my mother. A woman he had not been with for over fourteen years. That fact still haunts me. It was a sobering reminder that intimacy without permanence can leave you surrounded by people but still entirely alone.

I told my cousin that I do not want that for myself. That I want love, the real kind. Not just companionship or shared experiences, but someone to build with, someone who knows me deeply and chooses me daily. I could feel him growing impatient. Each “Uh huh” was a slow closing door. And then, just as I finished what felt like a heartfelt monologue, he shouted:

“OUR DADS WERE WHORES AND WE GOT THEIR BLOOD!”

I was stunned.

I sat there in silence as he launched into nostalgia, recalling what he called “the good times.” We used to call our fathers The Brothers, and we all had our stories. Tales we traded like folklore. My brother, my cousin, and I. Stories of walking downstairs to find three different women proudly standing in front of the dinner table, each having prepared a dish, and my father asking me which meal my fat picky fingers would choose that night. I thought it was charming back then. I did not realize what I had walked into until much later.

There were other stories too. One of us stumbling in on a scene that looked, at first, like a spirited bedside prayer, only to realize moments later there was nothing holy about what we had just witnessed.

Tonight, I tried to explain my quiet fear. That with every relationship, I want so badly to be the man I say I am. Not the man I was raised to become. My past behavior has, at times, echoed my father’s. I am not a cheater, but I do love women. I love to flirt. I enjoy the attention. And I often wonder, when the time comes, will I be able to shut that part of myself off? Will the ring on my finger silence the pull of inherited patterns?

I realized during that call that my cousin could not give me the answers I was looking for. Or maybe he was the exact person to give me the truth, just not in a way I was ready to hear. Eventually, I gave him an easy out from a conversation he never wanted to have. And I was left alone, turning my questions over in my head, the way you turn a stone in your hand, hoping it will eventually feel smooth.

Was I destined to become what he so bluntly named me, a whore?

What would that life look like? Would I get all the girls, all the memories, all the stories to pass down to my sons and nephews? Would they laugh the way we used to, retelling tales of women and wild nights? And if so, would I one day die alone, wondering which one of those women could have been enough if I had only chosen her, stayed, and tried?

I do not have the answers tonight. But the questions are loud. And for now, that is where I am. Somewhere between who I was raised by and who I hope to become.

BOOK EVERYTHING TRAVEL BLOG: EP 2 BOSTON

PART 1


PART 2


GVG
~SEE YOU IN THE AIR~

BOOK EVERYTHING TRAVEL BLOG INTRO AND EP1: PACKING SUCKS OR I SUCK AT PACKING

You may not know this, but my New Year’s resolution (that wasn’t actually done on New Year’s) was to travel again. Travel as much as I can, as often as I can, for as long as I can. I can’t figure out why it was that I stopped traveling, maybe it’s the same reason I never made that big move across the Atlantic, that I’ve been talking about doing for all these years. Anyway, I got to a point where I said enough is enough and just started to book everything that came across my computer screen. I’ve done rather well. I’ve been on a plane at least once a month if not a minimum of twice a month since April. Not all of them have been lavish, far off lands, but all of them great experiences that have added to my growth and fond memories. The most memorable of the trips being my first trip back to Haiti with my brother. We plan to do that one again very soon.

My cousin Stephanie especially, and a few other close friends have tried to get me to keep a journal of my journey’s, but as I’ve seemed to have lost my bug for writing, as anyone who used to reads this blog can attest to, I just didn’t have the desire to write. I needed another way of documenting this experience, I ran into a cool guy one night who told me about how he created a collage with all the things in his pockets and other small random items he collected from his trip to South Africa. Interesting. I came across a blog of a guy who took one Polaroid picture per day since the late 70s and never missed a day. Very interesting. Another friend’s father wrote about the best part of each day for one year, exactly one year. Also interesting. As I encountered all these creative ways of documenting ones life I knew I wanted my own way, but I knew it had to be my own and not the rehash of someone else’s.

I have played around with the idea of keeping a photo journal, but I knew me and how I would have to preface each pic with a story and thought that wouldn’t do the idea justice. Then I had another idea – how about a video journal of my travels. No writing, but I get to give you all the stuff that’s going on with me as its happening. On a good day it could hopefully be insightful, entertaining, funny, informative, and beautiful, on all the other days a complete car wreck, and who doesn’t love watching a good wreck in progress!

This was great. The only problem is I hate carrying stuff, I hated, hated, HATED the idea of having to carry a digital camera, a digital recorder, my cell phone, CrackBerry, extra batteries, more cords, adapters, god it’s hurting my back just to type it all out. I already think we all look like batman wannabes with utility belts on. Then I got a great e-mail informing me that there had been a new operating system update released for my blackberry that would give it the ability to create video – EUREKA!!! That’s it. I could do my video journals with my CrackBerry. All was right with the world and my new video blog was one-step closer to being a reality, now all I needed was somewhere to go.

This brings us to this point. Below is my first official entry of my "BOOK EVERYTHING TRAVEL BLOG" series. The video quality on the phone isn’t the greatest, but I think it’s good enough to get the job done.

P.S. Below that, I added my test run of the CrackBerry video feature.

BOOK EVERYTHING TRAVEL BLOG EP1 PACKING SUCKS OR I SUCK AT PACKING


Click on link for a pic of the finished product
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=logo#/photo.php?pid=1523468&id=592097266&ref=nf

TESTING 1 2 3