i put out a call on myspace for topics they're starting to trickle in i'll post them here
the way it works i get a topic i write about it, whatever comes to mind you don't get to see the topics in this version just the product comment, react, let it pass, anything you'd like
chica got a new place now in spaha while chiquita's still in spanish harlem ain't but a couple a blocks but the rich folks don't wander north and chiquita got no reason to roam past the brand new building and watch them pour chica's concrete floors up on the seventh story.
he's not afraid.
see, chica's downtown through the workweek and back to the burbs most weekends mom and dad like to see her and him and the puppy likes to run up and down the stairs and sleep in a new room every hour
chica's just holding the property flipping the space from tenement to luxury loft and using the two bedrooms as closete space and a place to rest her head three four times a week.
he stops in most nights crashes with her in the crook of his inked arm it's love and she fits and the perks meet his price.
but it's love.
chiquita works nights data entry punching six digit combos in excel docs for wealthy law firms who admire her english accent and polished demeanor and tasteful attire and the way she fillls out their quota
he admires her funk her open-hearted anger with the way those fuckers talk her down yeah she don't construct a sentence ideal she still got street swagger the type they don't manufacture in the states and when she brings him home he kisses her abuelita on the forehead he makes the rice while the ladies in the family drink coladas and bask in the new world role reversal
and it's love.
he don't fear that they gone meet or the streets gone speak
he don't fear that chica don't like latex that chiquita's on the pill and that he don't pull out cause he's monogomous
duogomous maybe
and his brain works rightest when he's surrounded with the women he loves
pete incaviglia came in to pitch i believe texas was the opponent and i snapped a pencil in half.
my homework generally got half done while i watched the yankees on WPIX this was years before YES and maybe a decade before i realized baseball is better on the radio
i was born in 1977 but didn't understand baseball until 1981 laid up on the pull-out couch in my parents' living room cracked hips and a half-body cast and an autograph book full of well wishes from family and friends.
mikey b was my boy maybe 25 years older than me but telling tales of reggie going deep once twice thrice in world series glory
by the time i was up on the feet i willed fleet learning to be a weak-hitting, moderately slick fielding second base type or conversely, in the backyard, a monster power-hitting home run machine with a toilet-paper stuffed wiffle bat and a tennis ball the yanks were not worth watching.
reggie was not around.
and pete incaviglia was pitching mop-up duty against i think the rangers with something like a 17-8 score.
i was snapping pencils hoping that donnie baseball would hit six grand slams or home runs in eight games in a row or something to make me feel like baseball possessed the power to make me happy.
we got this idea of her as warrior perpetuated by her words and power
we got chocolate locs like bridge cables reassuring symbols of support from above
we got this engrained in us since we first met black womanhood angela basset arms and steel will stereotyped sass that we choose to revel in because it reaffirms life it reaffirms strength in the face of adversity
but it also implies that all adversity is created equal that she's fine with raising babies that she's fine with i don't need no man that she's fine with standing up to authority and providing moral direction and poverty is homier because we got the black woman backbone
and she don't cry in the eye of others
and she don't come looking for pats on the back when she pulls herself up
and she don't need what we think we need cause she got that inner strength that comes with the ghetto inside.
fuck that.
she don't celebrate poverty she makes her dough her suffer ain't the suffer cast on her through the same old eyes her suffer ain't no baby daddy her skin don't make her unwed mom
folks look to her for strength cause she don't have none of the baggage they want to associate her with
she never did
she got sad
she got the sad that comes from doubt the sad that comes from humanity and she don't show no sense of sad cause she don't see her negatives adding up the way folks expect