click here …

for color’ds only is dead for now… hopefully one day to be resurrected, but who knows; until further notice that chapter has been closed. we off that – 2011 is a new year, & with such comes an evolved (/different) way of thought /speech…

click here for scur·ril·ous Elephant

scurrilous Elephant

got a couple new posts. but i’m watching Dylan’s Intervention on 90210 at the moment, so until i step away from the flat screen (i present to you “my new ish” /manuscript finally completely complete; & this is how i pop bottles these days. /don’t make me Montell Jordan around this bitch) —> the scur·ril·ous Elephant (CLICK HERE)

my new thing is boxing… #EarlyBirdWorming /imissmybigsister

lil black birdy kept chirping,
telling me “make your [major] moves in silence …”

that’s me throwing out hints (still working on my jab (/new at this boxing thing). *hint … hint …
&then comes the cross* – [&again, Yogi, i gotta pat myself on the back for yet another quadruple entendre. haha/SMILE.)

& they say that i've been too quiet, but honestly "doggs", i'm over a lot of the shit we used to do. & socially, wish there was, but there's nothing (/not too many people round here) for me. i miss BK but i gotta do what i gotta do til e'rything's did so til then it's just a feeling i (and YOU) gotta get used to. ya dig? bc the majority of these frontin ass  mf'ers round this bitch truly are incapable of "diggin"; they're stuck; stagnated; can't even get past the syntax /vernacular. L.M.F.A. & they still tryna figger out if a ni///a edumacated or not.

 

SON, YOU ROCK UNDER ARMOR, I ROC TEFLON.

(can get ya weight up all you want but us educated folk ain't making no reference to the the gym, my dude.)

 

blog posts or not, the kid's always writing /always thinking [in a fck'd up syntax]. all praise due to the fragmented, and to the run on, sentence.

another to be continued…

cough up a lung /ain’t nothing nice.

[this is a very preliminary draft]

here I am, couple weeks after writing the first sentence…
attempting to write a couple more.

a lot of thought has gone into the piece,
I’m just not sure where to put it all yet.

& I really did have every intention of writing this,
before seeing that parent,
who came in (still in her pj’s /weave looking a mess),
to speak with her son’s first grade teacher,
or getting a position working in an elementary school. <— (on some whole other sht,
that’s how you line break.
homie)

[please realize that this is a hybrid text (partially written in Black English) and therefore it is grammatically consistent – although I’m sure you’ll find a few typos... i'm not like these backwoods rednecks around here who simply just do not know how to speak and or write. some people don’t get that. word to brotha Malcolm , my verb agreement is different, along with my sentence structure, AND not only do i omit certain words, some of the words I use cannot be found in Webster’s dictionary. last but not least, s/o 2 any fat.booty.midget btches from the Stuy #BrooklynStandUp]

the community in which I live, and work, is an very dismal place. the majority of folk round here have extremely low expectations, therefore set no goals, and rarely ever accomplish anything… in the words of a fellow educator, “St Albans city isn’t like it was when we were younger, it’s gone to total shit. The only reason that I still teach is for the benefits. These kids are awful, and the parents are even worse.” It’s easy to see where my comrade is coming from; this little New England town (that’s classified as a “city”) breeds a peculiar ignorance [only found in rural America] that plagues most of its inhabitants.

they might blame it on the alcohol, drugs, and or poverty, but I refuse to let such be their excuse; the majority of these crackers round here might as well be extra’s from the movie Deliverance, while these backward ass coons aren’t any better; nothing more than mere imitations of BET caricatures (thank God, there’s only like 13 of us who live here). It isn’t hard to tell that I respect very few people in this community. why would I? and for the most part, kids growing up here, have very little hope of ever making it out. I did, but then I came back, hopefully to save others. and before I’m swallowed up, you better believe I’ma make moves back to the 718, bc that’s where “my” people reside. when I say “my” i’m not making reference to a skin color /or race … i’m making reference to a mind state. and sure, my people in BK are going through the same struggles (if not more so) but see, they’ve always accepted me, & never looked at me as anything other, while the white folks up here still aren’t used to seeing my yellow ass walk to the streets. all that gawking, & at times praise, makes me feel a lot like a Gypsy Vanner or Friesian Horse.

tbc

As they teach in Mathematics, all men should seek the twelve jewels of life: knowledge, wisdom, understanding, freedom, justice, equality, food, clothing, shelter, love, peace, and happiness.

A man must first obtain knowledge. And knowledge will lead him to wisdom – his ways, actions, and the way he speaks. A man who knows how to speak can bring forth understanding. And when a man gains understanding, he understand whether or not he’s free. Once you’re mentally free you’re going to automatically know how to be physically free. But freedom operates under a law of justice… Justice is a self-balancing scale that makes all men deal with one another equally.

So then you can live as a man – whether you’re doing business or farming – you can step into this world, look for your food, clothing, and shelter. And the only thing to achieve after that is love, peace, and happiness. Once you have love, you’re going to look for peace. What’s love without peace? if you love somebody and they don’t love you? Then what you get is war. People spread love without peace, or peace without love – what results is always a form of war. Happiness is complete satisfaction with yourself. If you keep looking outside yourself for happiness you’ll never find it.

more Tao… /Education is a …

“…the Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second sight in this American world – a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world.  It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.  One ever feels his twoness, – an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.” – W.E.B. Dubois

 

dismantling massa’s house w massa’s tools /Education is a Motherfucker (/ya best strap up)

It wasn’t until I recently started looking over my undergraduate transcripts that I realized just how much I used to hate school. I’ve always been one for education, but ironically, most of my education didn’t come from schooling (or rather it did, just not from the teachers). All school really seemed to do was break my spirit and make me compliant. Well, that was the intention. Very few educators actually taught me anything (of substance) through their assigned texts – much of what I learned, I learned on my own. Lil /jb learned the system quick though (/playing “house [nigger]” was easy). Sure I was taught basic science /how to read and write, but not much more. I was geared toward a blue-collar career; not that there’s anything wrong with working with your hands, but that’s just not me – I’m too creative (/head strong) to be working on some assembly line. [S/O to where I’m from]. And for the most part, it was obvious that them crackers at St. Albans City, Bellows Free Academy, and the University of Vermont, didn’t really think I’d ever amount to much more than some chemically imbalanced coon who’d eventually learn to play his position. And I did. I learned to play my position quite well. [3^rd base was always my favorite, although I certainly do enjoy left field].

Jonathan Taylor Gatto was on to something when he claimed that the American educational system was “deliberately designed to produce mediocre intellects, to hamstring the inner life, to deny students appreciable leadership skills, and to ensure docile and incomplete citizens – all in order to render the populace ‘managable’.” *Time-Out … but excuse me, are you, the READER, starting to understand what I’m getting at? I am the five percent, and us poor righteous teachers are “un-managable” / we cannot be tamed /continuously threaten the status quo.*

Looking back, I didn’t really enjoy “school” until I left Vermont. I hate to equate school with education, a mistake so MANY of us make, but sometimes I do. I did however learn a lot growing up in the Green Mountains, little of which was from lesson plans, and most of what I went through (to gain these life lesson’s) was traumatic as a mf’er. No need to elaborate (think that’s what the first manuscript was about). Sometimes I’m surprised I made it out, and then what surprises me even more is that I came back. “Damn sun… what the fuck was you thinking?!” Family first. Always.

[I’ll be back soon NY. Let me just take care of what needs taking care of, & ya boy ‘ll be right back on the A Train. My 5 year plan looking brazy.]

see my expertise, or bailiwick rather, isn’t in formal writing; it’s in the creative arts. remember lil ni///a? Rojo [started off] a poet. my high yellow ass didn’t stress learning all that conventional bullshit (although i picked a lil bit up long the way). broham, i focused on the tradition, and it’s in that vein that i grow /build /contribute /flourish. convention is nothing more than mere imitation. i can’t do that. i’m one of a kind.

i feel like i’m repeating myself. we’ve been over this.

the funny thing is. i can’t stand some people’s writing when they try to be “creative” … it’s seems so forced. go ‘head & get conventional wid it if you’re not going to take the craft serious. FUCK slang, FUCK text language, and FUCK all those infantile acronyms (emb? … Excuse Me Bitch) – you can leave all that bull-ass-pig-shit in the playpen. why-the-fuck-come? because there’s only grown folks round here, youngin’. & word to ma dukes, i curse whenever i feel the need /there is no “quarter in the jar”.

the written should be organic [yet intelligible], & if “the writer” doesn’t get that, they need to put they pen down /computer away, til they does. ya dig?

 

my syntax mirrors my soul … how bout you?

 

this is just part one… let’s call it the “Tao of /jb”

[Of course there’s going to be a couple typos … this was a straight shot on a very relaxed Sunday afternoon. & I know, I know… after completing the fco manuscript, I really have to go back and polish up on my formal writing skills. #thankGodforeditors. Had to train my brain to think, and write, soley in the Black vernacular, and in a style of writing where line breaks weren’t only centered on aesthetics, but breath /a smothered truth layered in oxygen – all which will be explained in the second part of this post.]

 

In 1962, James Baldwin wrote in The Creative Process, that “the primary distinction of the artist is that he must actively cultivate that state which most men, necessarily, must avoid: the state of being alone … Most of us are not compelled to linger with the knowledge of our aloness, for it is a knowledge which can paralyze all action in this world.”

And according to the Supreme Mathematics, wisdom is to speak, & act according to knowledge – while it has been previously stated that knowledge naturally paralyzes those with weak minds. Without wisdom, there is no understanding, and with out understanding one lacks culture (/shall never be free) – never mind obtaining the rest of life’s jewels [at this point I’d lose too many of ya’ll].

More recently in 2009, the RZA wrote about how “many cultures consider an island to be the ideal home. First, because you’re surrounded by water, which is life. Second, because you’re isolated from the masses, which allows you to find yourself, to develop inner strengths you couldn’t find anywhere else. An island shows you the true nature of life itself.”

It is in isolation that we find the true nature of life itself. Yet that average person fears being alone. No longer is conversation an art – phatic jibber jab has become the norm; even with oneself. The mind is a dangerous road to travel if unprepared. Especially with today’s gas prices. It’s easy to get lost /fall victim to desperation /live invisibly (just another mindless drone).

 

[the first draft of this I wrote directly on WordPress – even saving it every couple of minutes – and then mysteriously the next two paragraphs disappeared and I couldn’t retrieve em. I hate when that shit happens; especially when you were sorta feeling what you wrote. Well, here I go again. This is where I start to tie it all together ;)]

 

Can’t say that I learned much from my undergraduate classes. I mean certainly had a few (a very few) INCREDIBLE professors, who helped me get through it, but for the most part “school’s always has been some bullshit”. The University of Vermont certainly taught me what was expected of me from white people though; or maybe that was just Vermont in general (I was definitely privy to “my place in society” long before my teenage years). Even though I was light skin, just like up in St. Albans, those crackers down at Groovy UV expected me to know my place just like any other obsequious, big-lipped, nappy headed niggER. I was The Spook Who Sat by the door, patiently waiting, plotting revenge, mapping out the ultimate blueprint – & that’s exactly what I did. “As if the problem of racism outside of the academy isn’t enough, try thinking about the ways it has informed the very notion of academy and maintain a presence in our academic institutions through curricula, through instructors’ pedagogical practices, through symbolic structures like Standardized English. And that is sho nuff present all up in the classrooms” (Kevin Monroe (Writin da Funk Dealer).

 

Brother Shabazz wrote that we could do more damage with words, than anything physical (to these devils),  & sense words (/language) have sort of always been my thing, I spent my eight years of “higher education” focus on developing a style of writing that the world’s never seen. A Spartacus of literature.  Guess I’ve been in the gym, and at the firing range, during these past years too.

 

aight, this where i stop for now … next part addresses my formal writing skills, & also explains why i write in, & the importance of, Black English. it’s true, our language has it’s own syntax, and grammatical set of rules … & then there’s niggas like me with they MFA who choose not to capitalize certain things sometimes (which does have it’s significance if any of you un-edumacated muphuccas were wondering).

& please don’t ever forget.

first, & for most

I. Am. A. Poet.

hello world … meet my new Moleskin. her name is {      }  … & ummm … this is what i do at work [fuck a muthafuckin gov't] … /what a first draft looks like.

fat.booty.midgets. /ChristianMingle.com

for music & videos check the fat booty midget —> http://fatbootymidgets.tumblr.com/

& for those of you who may need a date for Valentines day (ONLY CHRISTIANS NEED APPLY  /no heathens!):

password same as the last [y..i]

eff it, i’ll just leave this one un-privatized*. more from the 2nd manuscript.

///

they say that you gotta write errr day… who is they you axe*? A LOT of muuuphucas. yo. so here’s my daily contribution to American/black/literature/history. fco soon come breathren. something like “the greatest story never told” … when it does drop it’ll be well worth the wait.

I wrote this for me, not you, as I travel toward enlightenment.

White people aren’t all bad. As a matter of fact, I have a lot of friends and family who just so happen to be Anglo Saxon. Couple WASPs too. In both Vermont, and the big Snapple. Ha. Then again (on the flip [cam]), a lot of them peckerwood ofays out there romping about really are fucked up. Yup, the majority of the pink cheeked, flat assed mf’ers I’ve come in contact really have been on some bullshit with their false since of superiority and security. Clearly, I (my two black balls, & buns of steel) threaten their status quo. But unfortunately for “massa’s” great grandson, I’m still here, still can’t be silenced, & still remember. & You already know these crackers done tried they best. But then again, like I been already told ya’ll, there’s a couple dudes of European descent that I’ve known since my diaper days, who, without any hesitation, would ride out w (& or for) they nucca; who look at me as a brother (not a brotha).

I don’t know what it was like for my pops growing up down bottom in Mississippi back during the Malcolm X/Dr. Martin Luther King days. [I’m hoping I “overcome” because this niggER never did/pray for me]. Me & my ol’ man ain’t never got to kick it like that but I often wonder what type of man he was /if there’s any similarities /did he ever think about me as I grew up thousands of miles away? I wonder how different things would have been if he would have stuck around? Would I be a better person? I was a pretty good kid [top shelf] but somewhere along the line my innocence faded.  Eventually all of the dejection and pain began to way too heavily on my shoulders /molding a warped lens through which I viewed the world /other people /(black, white, red, yellow, green, purple, & blurple even). See, I prolly had more white friends than pops did, but see, that was only in Vermont (& for the most part I was always a loner / “just me&my bitch”); in Brooklyn I never really fucked with white boys like that (a few that I went to grad school with but that’s it). We’re different, not biologically but culturally. [I do consider some white women to be more empathetic than the opposite sex of their race – explained in my earlier works (fco) … no need to revisit – but they’re still outsiders to a foreign culture (just as WE are to theirs)].

I don’t really give much attention to the illuminati /secret societies, & all that, because the black community itself (in a [very pertinent] sense) has been a “secret society” since the Portuguese first started loading US niggERs onto slaves ships.