Wednesday, April 30, 2008


This is the final part of the story. Enjoy

If you haven't already read part 1 scroll down to the post below and catch up.


Our relationship developed quickly, we were comfortable with each other in ways neither of us had ever been before with anyone else. We brought our strengths to each other’s life. We found balance in our differences. We seemed to understand each other; we could make the other laugh without ever having to utter a word. We had the same ideals and ethics. Lived by the same rules of conduct. Wanted similar lives.

One evening in the summer, she called me as both of us did more or less every night and informed me that she was in my neighborhood at her godfather’s house. I was in my friend’s car a couple of blocks away and decided this was a sign that we should see each other.
My friend commented on how my aura seemed to change the moment I picked up the phone to speak to her, how I perked up, sat straighter in my seat, and an uncontrollable grin plastered itself onto my face with each word she and I exchanged. I took the observation to be nothing more than a friend ribbing another for his own amusement.

We pulled up to find her and her godfather sitting on the steps of his brownstone laughing. I got out of the car, joined them in their conversation, and spent about three hours talking with them about everything under the evening stars. You would have thought we had all known each other forever. I felt at home and didn’t want the moment to end. However, it was late; he had to go to work in the morning and needed to go to bed.

Eliza and I thought it was a beautiful night - why not walk to the train station instead of her taking a cab. We walked in the direction of the train station but somehow never seemed to come to it, we walked and talked, and talked and walked some more, by the time we had looked up we had walked about 4 miles all the way to her neighborhood and never even realized it.

She suggested we extend the night a bit longer and partake in some handmade per order foreign beverage she had been raving about all night that could only be found at a café a couple of blocks away. We walked over only to find they had already closed for the evening. We crossed the street to another establishment both of us had walked pass for years but for some reason or another had never ventured into.

We approached the bar, sat, and asked the bartender for a drink recommendation. He quickly replied – rum punch. He asked us if we wanted anything to eat. We weren’t hungry but thought we could share a dessert to pass the time while we drank. He suggested their house specialty - Malva pudding; I was not a fan of pudding but took him on his word of its good and ordered it nonetheless. The bartender recommended we sit outside to enjoy our beverages in the summer breeze. The Malva pudding (which looked more like a circular brownie than pudding) came and initially, neither of us were brave enough to take the first bite. I finally manned up, slipped my dessertspoon into the pudding, and lifted it up with a small scoop of the vanilla ice cream that had accompanied it. I slipped it onto my tongue and allowed it to dissolve down my throat. Eliza asked me how it was and all I could do was to offer her to taste it for herself. Her facial expression seemed near orgasmic as the warm baked good touched her tongue. We had both fallen in love at the exact same moment, together, forever with Malva pudding.

We sat for hours talking about everything, anything, and sometimes even nothing as we always had. Except this time the conversation seemed to be different, we seemed to be closer, more honest, and sweeter. It just felt better. We closed the restaurant down. I finally took her to her front step that night, she made her way inside, and then I made my way home. Nothing happened nor was attempted.

I came home that night, took off my clothes, and went straight to bed. I slept well. I also had a dream about Eliza. She and our daughter kneeled on the floor, their elbows on a short table. They were coloring on a Playskool Lego desk. They looked so much alike with that shared hue of brown skin, that long curly black hair, and those gigantic cheesy smiles. They emanated happiness from every pore. As I walked in, both of my ladies looked up and let out huge uncontrollable squeals of joy. I felt their love and genuine happiness at my presence. It was the best feeling I’d ever had and I remembered how great it felt even after I woke.

I had that dream many more times over after that first night. Different variations but always the same constants - Eliza, our kids, and myself - happily ever after.

I kept those dreams to myself for years until now. Now that it’s over… and probably will never be… I tell you.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008


Nothing beats summer in New York City for my friends and I. Days and nights filled with an abundance of friends, laughs, ladies, music, parties, food, and tons of free top shelf liquor and merch all Thanx to the wonderful marketing folks vying for our loyalty for their client’s brand of the moment and inturn your patronage. They've dubbed us the cool kids, so all these marketing folk think if we like it, then you’ll buy it. The girls and the wannabes think if the marketing folk like us, maybe they should be around us. Therefore, those parties tend to be filled with some of this city’s best draft picks looking to be our first pick. We are more than obliged to check out their stats then give them a tryout. All the while hoping to find our next superstar player to lead our team to the championship. Sorry for all the sports references, The NFL draft is here again and all we’ve been doing for the past week is hitting draft parties, it must all be sinking in. Guess those marketing dollars are working.

So a couple of years ago at one of those top shelf “my brand is better than that brand” events for some brand that I swear taste and looks just like the brand from the night before I met a girl. Let me rephrase, I noticed a girl. She was the complete opposite of anyone I, or anyone who knew me, would have picked for me. She was short, light, young, immature, ill dressed for my world and my future (tomboy), too perky, and did I mention short? She amused me though. The first time I met her, she was hopping up and down for attention while I was having a conversation with her friend (who by the way was closer to “my type.”) It was funny to me. I wanted to tap her on her head and tell her to go sit somewhere until her friend and I finished our grown folks business. I didn’t. I watched her hopping there with a big smile on her face and all that hair going everywhere and allowed her to amuse me. It made me happier than I had been that whole day.

I left both of them to head to the downstairs patio to speak to some of my like-minded friends who probably hadn’t hopped in 20 yrs and probably saw no good reason to ever do so again. I laughed to myself about that while I chatted with them. At one point, I turned around to check the talent coming out the doorway onto the patio. A steady stream of five-inch heels and super tight jersey dresses that would make any man happy to be alive and straight. As I watched the steady stream, she came to the top of the stairs. The sun was setting and the light hit her in just the right way. I thought to myself: “She’s beautiful. I should help her bring that out.” Pompous ass, aren’t I?

At that moment, I decided to make her my new pet project. I was going to dress her in big girl clothes and debut her to society. I told her of my plan and she was more than in love with the idea. Come to find out her favorite movie of all time was “My Fair Lady” and she had dreamt of one day being her own modern day version of Eliza Doolittle. I was to be her Professor Henry Higgins.

The plan was set. We spoke every day for two weeks about whom she was and who she wanted to be for her debut, a weekly event I used to produce for all the people of my ilk. I gave her pointers, but told her she could select her own ensemble for the event, but it had to be a dress and she had to wear heals. She reluctantly agreed.

I showed up to the event that next night and waited for her. I felt a tap on my shoulder as I spoke to a patron. I took a quick glance back, noticed a woman standing there in a black and green patterned dressed. After initially not recognizing the woman, I turned back and as I was about to continue my conversation, it hit me. I snapped by neck back again to the woman, and after a blink I realized it was none other than my very own Eliza Doolittle. Wow! I thought. She looked amazing. I congratulated her on the selections she had made, took a moment to take it all in, and then went back to doing my duties for the evening.

At different points in the night, I would look around for her to make sure she was doing okay. Eliza was doing more than great. Every man turned his head when she passed. Those who weren’t with anyone (even some who were) attempted to get her attention with an offer of a dance, a drink, a trip abroad, anything just for a moment of her time. The DJ had learned her name and shouted it out so much that I was asked at least half a dozen times if someone by the name of Eliza was having a birthday or was about to get her car towed.

I could see how much she loved the attention and I loved the attention for her. She was happy and I felt like a proud parent whose child just won the spelling bee. All the hard work had paid off.

That night she got a ride home from one of those gentlemen callers. It was the first time I realized I cared about her. I went off about how it was unsafe to get into the car of a stranger, no matter how good a friend of mine he was. It wasn’t to be done and I never wanted to see her do it again. “WTF was that?!” I thought to myself as I let the words escape my mouth.


Friday, April 25, 2008


3 NYPD detectives acquitted in groom slaying
Sean Bell, 23, killed in hail of bullets on night of his bachelor party


updated 49 minutes ago

NEW YORK - Three detectives were acquitted of all charges Friday in the 50-shot killing of an unarmed groom-to-be on his wedding day, a case that put the New York Police Department at the center of another dispute involving allegations of excessive firepower.

Justice Arthur Cooperman delivered the verdict in a Queens courtroom packed with spectators, including victim Sean Bell's fiancee and parents, as at least 200 people gathered outside the building.

As word of the verdict spread, many outside the courthouse began crying and yelled "No!" Some briefly jostled with police officers. Continue reading here

~justice for all my ass~

Wednesday, April 23, 2008


Is it just me or does GO GO seems like its breaking through and about to change the sound of hip-hop for the next few years a la Dr. Dre and Death Row in the 90s? First N.E.R.D with that crazy off the meat rack “Everyone Nose” joint that I honestly played every morning for like three weeks. Then all the buzz about Wale (Prounounced WAH-LAY), his signing with Mark Ronson, and his new mixtape “A mixtape about nothing” a.k.a the Seinfeld mixtape, and now this new video from the Roots ft Chrissette Michelle, and you guessed it – Wale and a serious go go beat. Think we might all have to hit Howard homecoming next yr or CBC to see whats going down down there.

The Roots ft. Wale & Chrisette Michele - Rising Up

N.E.R.D - Everyone Nose

Wale - "W.A.L.E.D.A.N.C.E"

Wale - Nike Boots

Just to take it a bit back. Most non Marylanders first introduction to that Go Go groove.

~we go go groovin~


Just checking in on all my PA people to make sure they’re ok. WHAT UP ANTOINE/MEGAN?! Your citizens as a whole have failed us, but we do not blame you (totally). We understand that this is just as hard for you as it is for us. We know you were out their fighting the good fight and spreading the word. Maybe not loud enough, but hey with each mistake a lesson is learned. All I am saying is if she wins the nomination, I’m coming for that ass. City of “Brotherly” love my ass. You ain’t give that brother no love. I’m just playing (sort of). Good day all.

Thursday, April 10, 2008


This seems to be the month of the newspapers for me; I keep coming across really great articles that I feel obligated to share with you. Guess not all the papers are going to shit, as David Simon would like you to believe. Yesterday I read an article (I was going to use the word interesting, but still not sure that’s the right word to describe how I felt about it). The article was this weeks cover story for the Village Voice entitled “A New Home Room” by Chloé A. Hilliard.

The piece is an in-depth look at the relatively new trend amongst black families in New York of taking their children, primarly their young black male children, out of school to homeschool. I have my own thoughts on the story, but I’m going to allow you to read the piece for yourself and come to your own conclusions, before I bombard you with mine.

Below are some excerpts from the story and a link to the full piece. If interested in my thoughts hit the comment section, read mine, and then leave your own, or vice versa. This is a place for some talking.

For Some Black Parents, the New Home Room is Home
Public schools are failing black boys, say a growing number of parents who are homeschooling
by Chloé A. Hilliard
April 8th, 2008 12:00 AM

“Say "homeschooling" and what tends to come to mind are the whitest people you know, holding Sunday school every day of the week in their basements, producing kids who can declaim against Charles Darwin for hours on end, but who are so screwed up socially that you can't imagine them getting a date, except years later as part of a group outing to Christian Day at Disney World.So, with that admittedly over-broad stereotype in mind, it's something of a shock to see the lessons in progress at Bread Stuy, a small café in Brooklyn, where customers sip at their coffee and read newspapers, unaware that a woman named P. Aurora Robinson is holding a homeschooling class in their midst.” Continue reading here

Full disclosure: The writer of this piece Chloé A. Hilliard, is a good friend of mine. That’s not the reason I posted the story though, it’s because in my groggy, half woke state yesterday morning the story woke me up and had me thinking, then writing, and then texting her ass like “YOU GOT SOME QUESTIONS TO ANSWER”. Now if a piece that does that to me is not worthy of some blog space sharing, I don’t know what is. I have a lot of friends doing a lot of things, but only the dopiest make it to this page.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008


Hello all. Yesterday I posted two articles that grabbed my attention and thought would grab yours, but one seemed to truly capture the thoughts and words of my friends, so I’m giving it its own shine.

Below is an excerpt and link to an article from the UK paper “The Independent” and the article is entitled “Men, women & the secrets of skin colour” -

Men, women, & the secrets of skin colour

"For him, the female ideal is fair-complexioned and pure; but for her, it's the wild, dark Heathcliff types who attract

The fair maiden of myth appears to have a basis in scientific reality, according to new research. Scientists looking into attractiveness in men and women suggest that men of all races are subconsciously attracted to fairer-skinned women, while women are more drawn to dark-complexioned men.

The researchers, whose study shows that across different races, lighter-skinned women are seen as the ideal, say the attraction is driven by preferences based on moral assumptions.

Men are subconsciously attracted to fairer skin because of its association with innocence, purity, modesty, virginity, vulnerability and goodness, according to researchers at the University of Toronto. Women are attracted to men with darker complexions because these are associated with sex, virility, mystery, villainy and danger." Continue reading here

Tuesday, April 8, 2008


Hello people. I realize I’ve been MIA for a few days now (more to come on that soon. Great news. Maybe even a full blog on it. Maybe not. LOL) Anyway while gone I came across two completely unrelated but both good articles that I thought you my readers would both enjoy and have some things to say about. Check them out and hit that comment section.

The first one is from Newsweek entitled “Today's culture of povety”

The second I came across on my Homegirls new online mag “Parlour Magazine” from The Independent entitled “Men, women & the secrets of skin colour”

~we're the warriors they write epics about~

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Do you believe I am the best-dressed real man in America?

At the behest of my good friend and fellow style aficionado - SRJ – I have entered Esquire's BEST DRESSED REAL MAN OF 2008 competition. I ask only three simple things of you –

1. Check out my Esquire Profile -

2. Vote for me, if and only if, you believe me to be deserving of the honor and title.

3. Please pass this on to everyone who would appreciate checking out some very well dressed men and maybe even voting for one of us.

To vote – Please click on the amount of stars you believe the contestant ranks at - 1 star = worst dressed - 5 stars = Best dressed. Please only vote once and if you would like more votes for a contestant just forward his Esquire profile URL to your friends for their votes. My Esquire profile URL is

Thank you in advance for taking the time to read this, check out my page, and hopefully vote me as Esquire's BEST DRESSED REAL MAN OF 08.

~Dress inappropriately and they notice the dress; dress impeccably and they notice the person.~