There's a difference between loving women and being muthafuckin' captain. A captain is a man who believes in catering to a woman in every way in hopes that it will keep her with him. I've always been A, always been drawn to the female mind...and body Or at least it always seemed that the concepts I hoped to present were better understood by a female audience. Don't get it twisted, I can be as dude as dudes get. And that's where my pride can come in. But there's certain women who know to disarm that shit.
Getting down with Toya and Brandi was almost an accident. Or at least is wasn't something that I planned. Through them came Anisah and The Dervish, Angie, Keisha, and the rest of the crew. There are some complexities that come with rolling with mostly women on certain outings. The conversations can get really insular, but I'm cool with it as it often gives me insight into world I previously knew little of. So as I sat back as part of a squad of twelve for the midnight showing of Wanted last night, there were plenty of moments when I felt like the luckiest boy in the world.
Yesterday, after finishing the first draft of the first chapter of Twelve (formerly known as Midnight), I put in a call to my girl Lady Pcoq, a poet and singer from home whom I've known since I was 14. She was a part of the 21 to Life Tour, the very first poetry group I co-founded, and has since been key to my writing career. As this time I am writing in part from the point of view of woman, there's no one who could be more critical than Lady P. But as I read my pages her response was kind of shocking. She dropped ad libs along the way as if she was speaking to the woman I created, Amening certain ideas, made speechless by the symmetry between myself and the woman on the page. She told me that it was perfect, that she had no notes. That was the best compliment that I ever could have gotten.
I would advise all action fiends to go and check out Wanted. Right now it's next to Iron Man as one of the best summer blockbusters I've checked out. I would have loved to hold Angelina's legs through that windshield. The view must have been astounding ;)
Somewhere in the middle I got a text from one of my faithful blog readers whose been keeping up on my changes as of late. She said that I'm growing. Amidst the murder and mayhem on the screen before me I found myself smiling, pulled out of the fantasy world before me long enough to recognize the big thumbs up.
In this next section I will write as extended metaphor. It if goes over your head...well that's kind of the point.
A bullet has to be removed quickly from the place where it's lodged. As a foreign substance it has the potential to poison your entire being if kept in. Getting them out can be the worse and hardest part. After that it's stopping the bleeding in time. Then it's protecting the wound, giving it time to heal.
My homegirl Kendra sent me a little note about the damage we all sustain while being out in the world. We take all kinds of shots but are so determined to get where we're headed that we hardly ever slow down to assess how bad we might be hurt. Those of us who are masochists choose to get high on the pain instead of pushing it away to center ourselves through the tranquility of meditation. In seeking peace you learn that pain is necessary, but it should never be a constant. In peace, you avoid further damage by learning how to move out of the way before triggers are ever pulled. I was always good at that, even when I wasn't trying. Out.
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