Thursday, November 29, 2007

Ah, the Humanity!

Okay:

Apparently, I'm a bit of a nihilist. Yes, it is true that I believe human beings are evil by nature. We must put forth a conscious effort to be good. If we refuse to acknowledge that little devil that lives within us, we are doomed to serve that devil. Let me explain.

The person who ignores his sexual urges, represses them, will ultimately become a deviant. (see Catholic priests, Michael Jackson, etc.)

The person who prides himself upon being honest will ultimately find himself engulfed in an immense deception. (see every televangelist ever.)

My personal opinion is that we should all strive to strike a balance between the demons and better angels of our natures.

I'm an artist so I see things in metaphors.

Life is like a diet. You cannot deny the fact that you really want a donut. You must acknowledge it, and choose the carrot anyway. But occasionally, you should treat yourself to something sweet. And as long as you're not being gluttonous, you shouldn't beat yourself up about it.

I was having a philosophical discussion with a coworker the other day. We were talking about religion, politics and sociology. At the end of our conversation she announces, "You're a nihilist! That explains your music!"

I was at a loss. Have a created a body of work that is not uplifting, but rather a misanthropic rant spanning nearly a decade?

I wasn't always like this. I used to think that people were good. I used to think that I was good. A myriad of negative experiences with my fellow man (mainly fellow woman) has shown me something different.

Now I know, for a fact, that we are all nasty and malicious. That we are capable of all kinds of atrocities, if pushed. Man is mischievous, bottom line.

And this has nothing to do with Adam and Eve. I don't believe in any of that either. This has everything to do with the average Joe and Jane.

Jane wants Joe. Joe wants Jill. Jane kills Jill. Jane Gets Joe.

This is humanity. This is Cane and Abel. It's not history. It's a case study spun into a beautiful narrative.

Maybe a little dark for a Friday, but I'm fairly certain this is what life is all about.

What are your thoughts?

Thanks for reading.

Tip of the day: Women, beware of public toilets. Crabs can jump nine feet! Try explaining that to your husband.

Shameless plug: I will be performing live at Bohemian Caverns on Thursday December 6 (11th & U St, NW WDC) 21 and over. No cover. Doors open at 8. Showtime at 9.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

I Got My Swagger Back

Okay:

I'm kind of the office joke when it comes to sex. While my music is filled with decadent eroticism and even my casual conversation is peppered with raunchy innuendo and double entendre, my sex life is pretty basic.

If my libido were a car, it would be a Toyota Camry.

Good. Reliable. Nothing fancy. But nothing to complain about either.

There is a recurring happy hour argument. How long should sex last? I have been adamant in my position that it is completely possible for two people to get what they need in less than thirty minutes. Then they can spend the rest of their night doing more productive activities, like sleeping.

This is the part where all the women suck their teeth and shake their heads in pity.

Gill tells me, "You're only 28. Stop acting like an old man!!!"

"Go fuck yourself," I say.

Then Gill says, "You know what? You just haven't been inspired. You meet the right girl, that'll change."

"Go fuck yourself," I say. It's easy to dismiss Gill. He's been with the same woman for 15 years. What does he know? But last night, those seemingly empty words were proven to have great merit.

Sort of.

As you know, I just moved into a new apartment. That's why I haven't written in nine days. Still getting settled, you know. Anyway, I invite my Friday night regular over for some break-in-my-new-apartment sex. When she arrives, I immediately notice that she has done away with her trademark mid-back length weave and fake eyelashes. Yes, I know. Doesn't sound like my type, right? Well, you're right. I didn't realize how right until last night though. I found that seeing her in her natural state was extremely erotic.

I pounced on her like a jungle cat.

Then, an hour and a half later, I did it again.

Let us not underestimate the magnitude of this. I haven't wanted to have sex twice in the same night in years.

As we lay there basking in the after glow she told me, "I'm really glad you're not depressed anymore."

"Depressed?"

"Yeah, you've been depressed for about a year now, but it looks like you're finally coming out of it."

"Hmpf."

Then on the way out of the door, I jumped on her again. Right there by the front door.

My swagger is officially back in the building!!!!

I think it's the new apartment, which is fabulous by the way. You should all come over for wine and cheese.

Thanks for reading.

Tip of the day: Say a prayer for the friends and family of Redskins safety, Sean Taylor. He just passed away an hour ago!

Shameless Plug: I will be performing LIVE @ The Bohemian Caverns on Thursday December 6 with Heron Gibran, Dirty Water, the Sound of the City band and DJ 2 Tone Jones. (11th and U St, NW WDC) 21 and over. No cover. Doors open at 8. Showtime at 9.

Friday, November 16, 2007

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday

Okay:

So tomorrow is the big day. I am officially saying goodbye to my shithole of an apartment and moving to greener pastures. A posh spot in Brookland with a parking lot attendant and free cookies in the rental office. Good cookies. And coffee.

Today I took the day off work to handle some last minute business.

Mainly, had to find a new home for my cat, Samira. I have been privately stressing out about this for about a month. I have had Samira for six years. We were like an old married couple. She destroyed the furniture and coughed up hairballs all over the place. I cleaned up behind her, put out food when she whined. Took her to the vet two or three times a year. But I ignored her mostly. I was infatuated with her when she was a precious little kitten, scared of her own shadow. But once she got big and furry (really furry!) the spell was broken. So, like I said, it was a lot like a marriage.

So then my daughter ended up developing a mild allergy. Then there was the expensive pet deposit and monthly surcharge at the new spot. Then there was the hairballs and the furniture covered in fur and the smelly litter box and the hundred dollars or so in food and litter every month and the hundred dollar trips to the vet and the groomer every few months and I decided it was time for us to part ways.

I put an ad on Craig's List.

I put out a mass email to coworkers, friends and family.

Nobody wanted my six-year-old, ornery American Longhair.

I had to take her to a shelter.

Maybe I could have done more. Maybe I could have been more aggressive or diligent in my search. I did what I could.

When I dropped her off, I took one last look at her through the bars of her carrier. She did not know that it was the last time she would see me. She thought I was leaving her with the groomer or the vet. She's so stupid.

I walked out and cried a little bit on the way to the car. Yes, Cool Cee Brown had a moment.

Later, I went to my mother's house to pick up my daughter. "How's the packing?" she asked.

"I took Samira to a shelter today," I said.

"Are you depressed?"

I shook my head, no.

"I was depressed when your Uncle Beau died," she said. "Then I got over it."

Leave it to my mother.

Well, "Even young Cassius got his ass kicked/The point is when he got laid down/he didn't stay down."

Who said that? I did. Seems I'll have to take my own advice on this one. *sheds solitary tear*

I'll miss you, Samira. You would have liked the new apartment. But you would have fucked up the carpet.

Thanks for reading.

Tip of the day: Beware of drunk-texting. I once texted my mother something containing the words "pussy" and "toss".

Shameless plug: I will be performing LIVE on Thursday December 6 at Bohemian Caverns (11th & U St, NW WDC) with Heron Gibran, Dirty Water, The Sound of the City Band & DJ 2 Tone Jones. NO COVER. 21+. Doors open @ 8. Showtime @9.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Baptized In The Funk

Okay:

There are several reasons why religious people disturb me. No disrespect to any deity or divine prophet, but it's just all so goddamn creepy. This may surprise you, but I was raised Pentecostal and I went to Catholic school for a year. That means I know more about the Bible than the average person. More than I want to know, actually.

Perhaps I should clarify. It's religious people, not religion, to which I have an aversion. And not all religious people, mind you. My homeboy Joe, for example, is a very religious man but you wouldn't know unless you asked him. But those Bible-thumpers who look down their noses at the unsaved masses really burn my butter. My family is like this.

I went to church this past weekend to see my family and hang out with my father. Some poor kid volunteered to get baptised so they started filling up "the pool".

This pool of theirs is a real piece of work. I wouldn't clean my murder weapons in that thing. It looks like a pit for waterboarding suspected communists and terrorists. This poor kid has volunteered to go down there and let someone submerge him in two feet of ice-cold water run in through a long black hose connected to the outdoor spout.

But before he can do so, one of my cousins has to go get one of those green goldfish scoopers to wrangle up the large commune of mosquitoes and other tiny insects flying and swimming around in there. See what I mean? Who knows what kind of infection this kid could get? He might as swell slam his face into a public toilet.

He comes out of the back dressed in the rags they keep in stock for these impromptu baptisms. Another one of my cousins, who is one of the junior deacons, comes out behind him with those big rubber swamp pants on. He looks like he's about to catch some marlin, not perform a Christian rite of passage. But he's got the right idea. I wouldn't go down into that pit with anything less than an inch of rubber separating me from what amounts to a pitridish for growing malaria.

My cousin says the special baptism words and dunks this poor kid backwards into the pool of death. Only the kid is at least six feet tall, so my cousin accidentally drops him! He comes back up, coughing and spitting up toilet water. I almost fell off the pew.

The kid goes into the back and changes into his regular clothes. When he returns he is invited to say some words to the congregation. He claims that he already feels different. And I think to myself, "That's just the West Nile kicking in."

I am also struck with an epiphany of sorts. My family is a cult. These people really believe that this is how you get into "heaven". They believe that God's special orders are for you to repent for your sins, accept Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior and then submerge yourself in water. If you don't do this, you go to hell when you die. Really.

Needless to say, I'll be taking my chances "in the world" and the only time I'm sticking my head underwater is if there is plenty of chlorine and a lifeguard present.

He's handed his baptism certificate and then it's off to Red Lobster for an intellectually stimulating conversation about the abomination of homosexuality and the unrelenting shittiness of the Redskins, over cheese bread and fried scallops.

Thanks for reading.

Tip of the day: Apparently, you should never keep a pair of underwear longer than a year. Over a significant period of time urine and fecal matter build up in the seat and cannot be washed out.

Shameless Plug: The new Dirty Water album "Joe D and Cool Cee Brown are Dirty Water" is now available for download on iTunes. Visit the website http://www.dirtywatermusic.com for more details. IT'S JAMMIN!!!