i would be a bad nephew if i didn't show some love to my beloved auntie and nappy-headed sister, CASHAWN, on her born day.

i happened upon a brilliant essay by Phonte (of Little Brother and Foreign Exchange) regarding the tarnishing of MJ's legacy and praising his life and contributions. its a long read, but its passionately eloquent, and worth the time. i promise.

have a gander: My Hero Aint Molest Them Bitch Ass Kids

enjoy.

peas.

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My mother, father, and (weirdly) Blessed (the little boy my mother sometimes watches from next door...meet him HERE) were going somewhere in Europe. At some point we transferred to a smaller plane, as we were going to some small European city without a major airport.

There was some turbulence, because we were flying in a storm, apparently. The pilot mentioned engine trouble at one point. In the midst of all the commotion, I fell asleep, because I remember waking up, asking if we'd landed yet. We hadn't. Looking out the window, the clouds, rain, and lightning suddenly cleared, and all I could see was water. Our plane began to dive toward a lake that was ahead of us. For some reason, we were extremely relaxed. I can picture my father leaning forward in his seat, peering out the window. I strapped him into his seat belt. Blessed was coloring on the floor, and I strapped him into his seat. My mother sat next to me, and I can picture holding her chest the way a driver in a car would brace a front seat passenger when making a sudden stop.

We were clearly going down. All aboard were oddly quiet, though mortified. We hit water...and bounced. Hit water again, skid on the surface, and then slowly sank.

"Oh shit! We're sinking," I remember (calmly) announcing as we began sinking. I can't picture how many passengers there were clearly, but nobody moved really. A knife appeared and I cut my father from his seat belt. I was about waist deep at this point.

No sign of Blessed.

I helped get my mother out the emergency exit, which was, for some reason, through the ceiling of the cabin.

Back in the cabin, I glanced to my left and saw a child's red sneaker floating in the water. Looking down, I saw Blessed strapped in his seat, underwater, motionless. Snatched him out of the water, got to the surface and laid him out...literally, on TOP of the water. He was non responsive. Somehow I gave that boy CPR, pumped and beat that chest...he coughed up water, and announced, "I made it!" And though the plane was empty by now, I heard applause...?

I can picture my mother laid out, banged up, saying how horrible she felt: we would be missing some exhibit we signed up for in whatever country we were visiting.

My father, true to form, kept mentioning writing a stern letter to the airline's customer service department.

Blessed (who wasn't speaking full, clear sentences last time I'd seen him back in VA) kept announcing, "I made it!"

I cried from joy that I was able to rescue my family. Tired from the day's turn of events, I laid down near the tail of the plane.

And I died.

Then I woke up. Jumped up, actually. Terrified.

And here I am, wide awake at 4:05 am (goddamn Pacific time).

Off to call Mom and Dad.

Good day.

a brief clip of me in Kennis' class @ Debbie Reynolds tonight. i apologize in advance, the vid was shot...vertically. and is a tad less cool after rotation. i'm grateful anyhow (thanks amy!). eh. enjoy.




and...vid from last week in case you missed it. :)

i just need to say a few things in general. to nobody in particular. these things are being released into the universe. if they move you, great. if not, great. but i will say them anyway.

1. i'm not a bad person. i've done some horrible things in my past, to people i love/loved, but i'm not a bad person. mmkay?

i'm at an...interesting place with a person i consider/considered a good friend. i love this person, but because of various circumstances, we are not as close as we once were. it happens. thankfully, i do NOT agonize over this as i once did. i've said my piece MANY MANY times, and have moved on from the situation. sadly, what i've expressed doesn't really leave much room for action. i said what i said. they agreed with most of it. i feel how i feel. now what? exactly. i don't know either.

if we happen to mend those fences, beautiful. if not, beautiful. i'm glad to have known you. we've had a beautiful relationship, but shit happens. people grow apart. siblings grow apart. friends grow apart. it happens. out of my control. unfortunately for them, the ball is, sadly, in my court, apparently. and....the way i'm feeling right now, i'm gonna let that bitch dribble and roll indefinitely. i know not what to do. i don't have the strength to pick the ball up and put it back in play. i just don't. i may come off heartless, but i just can't rehash things and explain myself any longer.

i'm not a bad person. i don't say this to convince you, but as a reminder to me. regardless of how i am led to feel about things...i feel how i feel and that's that.

i may be babbling, but....if you're meant to get this, you will. if not, beautiful.

2. i'm still in love with you. we're not together, for a host of reasons, all unfortunate. we agreed to separate, but...i'm just not over it. i've been told by you and others to get "us" out of my system, to shake it off...but, nah. i haven't.

i'm not into settling.

in time, sure. i'm aware of that. i tell myself that every day. and i fight with myself not to reach out to you as much, because...we're supposed to be cooling out. "friends." right? moving on is much easier for you, obviously, and i respect that. but...yea. i'm not ready. and, quite honestly, i see no rush. those i've met in our wake simply don't compare to you, or (honestly) to the one before you. whatevs.

sex is more important to everyone than it is to me. i've gone without for almost a year. which, in my eyes, puts my formerly "sexually liberated" ass back on virgin status. there are an infinite number of more important things on this earth to concern myself with. what's the rush?

maybe it wont happen with you, but it'll happen. in time. i've been telling myself that everyday.

i'm...just not into settling.

*sigh* i'm still in love with you.

just figured you should know.

good night.

you ever had the feeling that, literally, YEARS of hard work was paying off, or about to pay off? yea. i have that feeling now. i wont jinx what i'm working on by delving into specifics, but i will say that i feel extremely close. close. close. close to reaping some goddamn benefits of this grinding, aside from knowledge. knowledge is great, but i can't retire off of knowledge.

my company, Capital A Enterprises (and yes, the A is for motherfucking Alexander), has been in the game for years, with no significant closings to date. recently, i was cut out of a very very very very large real estate transaction thanks to shady brokers and agents, and...am still pressing on. this deal would have allowed me to retire. seriously. but, i cried, my mom cried, and i move the hell on. i've often spoke of conference calls, "meetings" and the like, and lots of people always wonder what the hell i actually do.

i started off in real estate. initially, i helped other established investors by locating discounted properties (residential/commercial/land, etc) that fit their criteria. that afforded me the chance to learn the industry while working closely with experienced players, and getting paid for it.

then, i progressed into what's called Bulk REOs. selling/trading bulk portfolios/packages of bank-owned properties. From several thousand into the billions, at times. As merely a broker/consultant, 100% of the time, i/you could deal with property you'll never see. In the instance that you were working with a local/smaller seller, there may be a small amount of properties that a buyer could drive around and check out individually. however, most times they never SAW what they were purchasing, but relied upon provided data to verify the existence and profitability of what they were purchasing. they used established exit strategies (rent/re-sell/trade/demolish,etc) to displace the properties. for my work, i'd just collect a fee. i merely introduce buyers and sellers, directly or indirectly, and don't have to actually have money nor product. again, no significant closings here, but a WEALTH of knowledge from meeting and dealing with all types of people.

when i happen upon a good chunk of paper, i also plan to purchase and hold/rent real estate locally, as well as in NY and other profitable markets. i'll start small, and work my way up to apartment buildings, commercial property, and other holdings. fear has held me back for quite some time. i have been waiting to take this leap for years. no REAL excuse, as it's completely possible to purchase real estate without a dime of your own money/credit. anyway...

now, i'm working on these same products, plus commodities. fuel (over a half-dozen types exist), diamonds, gold (in its many forms), banking/financial instruments, etc. again, i'm a "consultant." i meet someone who knows someone who works for a buyer with millions/billions to spend. or, i may know someone who knows someone within an oil refinery selling a shitload of fuel that my buyer is seeking. and an infinite amout of other possibilities. again, not my money, not my product. i make an introduction, push paperwork, talk it up on conference calls/skype/email, and 99% of the time, have NEVER met anyone i deal with. some of these people i've been communicating with for years, and have no damn clue how they look. whatevs.

anywho, in general, it's a largely unregulated business. yes, there are laws in place to regulate the buying and selling procedures of these things. but it's the PEOPLE that are often unruly and untrustworthy. essentially, any motherfucker with an email account and a fax machine can represent themselves to be the legal representative of a huge oil refinery or billionaire buyer. which is why you must always be on guard. there's lots of fraud. lots of time-wasting. it can be and has been very discouraging at many times. closings and, in general, purpose can appear as elusive or rare as quality programing on BET, but in the instance that you actually locate both a legit buyer with verifiable funds and a seller with legit, verifiable product, you're in a very good position.

that is where i find myself this week. in a beautiful position. i may soon be seeing some payoff from all these conference calls, wasted minutes, computer paper, and SEVERAL hundred hours that i'll never get back.

got great news tonight. so, tomorrow morning, shit really gets cracking. i'm going to bed with a clear mind, my day is written out. my to-do list is impecable. i'll be up before the sun, to accomodate my east coast contacts, and it'll be on and popping until i close a deal.

i haven't told my parents this, but i REFUSE to get a job out here in Los Angeles. between dancing and business ventures, something WILL happen before my money runs out. it's not an option. if i have to be an extra on a bunch of television and movie sets to get buy, so be it, but i would rather sell my (great) body than be anybody's employee. can't.do.it.

anywho, just wanted to explain all of that. got a few "what the fuck DO you do?!?!" questions today, so...there you have it, nosy bitches. :)

off to make this hair shiny and new, and make another bad food choice.

stay tuned.

~chris.alexander.

i'm entering my third week in la la land. *handclap for me*

i have varying feelings bout my time here thus far. i'm becoming more aware and appreciative of the journey that lies ahead. in the past few days i've had some great, inspiring conversations with dancers/choreographers/artists whom i respect, and am attempting to redirect my thinking to understanding TIME. and the PROCESS.

moving here from NY, i had my dreams of what i want my life and career to be like. i now see my time in NY as a time of growth and preparation for los angeles. i am here to blossom, socially and creatively. i've taken steps in a more positive direction and can actually see the path in front of me. throwing myself into classes here has been exhilarating, eye-opening, and extremely humbling. in NY, i had a comfort zone. while Ballet was challenging, i felt comfortable in Dorit's class. i grew comfortable dancing in Jamie's hip hop class. here, the new mindset is: try everything. of course i'm identifying teachers and styles that i would love to become more comfortable with, but i need to broaden my range of abilities, for sure.

last week was an interesting week, dance-wise. in a handful of classes (out of 11 for the week), i found myself off to a good start, but becoming gradually more intimidated and unfocused. more than once, when i was challenged and stumbled, i mentally resigned and was unable to recover. not good. i'm not a dude that lives for instant gratification, but i had to tell myself after every class, "it takes time. it takes time. it takes time."

and it does. the more advanced dancers i dance beside, have been at it for years. even some of my favorite choreographers have been in the game for YEARS (some over a decade) without getting the type of shine they deserve. talking with a few dancers last week, i became more at ease with the TIME involved in my pursuit. my goal moving out here was to be "a completely different dancer" after 6 months to a year here. hearing various people's stories, i'm absolutely certain that i'll be more than fine.

as always, i'm clear that my path is my own. i'm much better about measuring my success by that of my peers. this short time here has already opened my eyes to many things. i'm slowly becoming more confident in general, and i see it in my interactions and behavior in social settings. and so on...

i keep going back to a quote i read somewhere...

change is a process, not an event.

and that has helped me tremendously. just needed to get all of that out.

off to class.

today is a beautiful day. (or: hoy es un día hermoso for my mexican readers)

the beloved offspring of my mother's brother, Sha'londa, came in town for the weekend, so i scooped her up in Manhattan Beach for lunch and a trip to the beach. Manhattan Beach is about 40 mins south of Noho, so gassed up 'Tima and hit the road to reunite with my favorite (and last remaining nonhopeless) cousin.




good times were had. we walked along the boardwalk, gossiped about our respective disappointing siblings, ditched our shoes and walked along the beach until the soles of our feet began to bake on the hot fuckin sand.


after rinsing sand off our feet, we looked up the stairs and saw este manojita de felicidad (bundle of joy).

first, i thought, "ah, how precious (que preciosa!)! a little well fed baby Mexicunt!"

then, we saw the shirt.

recorded myself in Kennis' class @ Debbie Reynolds today. by THIS point, I was beat. Kennis' choreo is extremely high-energy. after having run it 4 or 5 times, i was FIGHTING through it. lol.

i'm pleased. it's been ages since i've seen myself dance. my NY homeskillet Amy and I promised to record eachother whenever we do exceptionally well in class...

Have you ever heard of these cool new things called playlists?? Well, if not, they allow you to play several songs nonstop...without having to get up after each song during the (very UNthorough) warmup and manually switch to the next song u want to hear. It would save time, and would help preserve my nerves.

Class was great otherwise, though.

Impatiently yours,

~chris.alexander

being here, i knew that continuing to workout was quite important for me. dancing's great and is a workout in itself, but i've plateaued, weight-wise, and have been unable to drop any extra pounds. i need to push myself in addition to dancing regularly, so i ran today.

the treadmill in the apartment building where i'm staying is from 1985, and is plugged in, but inoperable. never been a huge fan of the exercise bike, so i'll use that in emergencies only. there is (gasp!) no elliptical in sight, so i'm forced to resort to other means of cardio.

i haven't run outside in over six years. last time i attempted it, my lower back fell off in protest. absolutely not happening, i thought. but, with the increased motivation i'm feeling as of late, i borrowed some perfectly unused running shoes from Cory and hit the pavement at 8 this morning. as a means of coping with my body's rejection of pacific standard time, i will try to get out and run as much as possible. it'll allow me to see more of the city while combating a few of the bad food choices i've made since landing here.

i am pretty proud of myself, especially since i hate running. music makes it bearable. my trick is this: while running with the ipod (using a playlist of upbeat music, of course) and a song begins, i must run until the end of the song. if i don't drop dead, i run until the the end of the next song. and i repeat that until my body shuts down and explodes. it's helped me increases my stamina, and convinced my legs (rather, tricked my legs into thinking) that running ain't so bad. hooray.

i'll keep you posted on the progress.

stay tuned....

So, in addition to being accompanied by my longtime travel partner, George (whom you may have heard of)...

...I was accompanied by some gorgeous lovelies on the first leg of my flight. While waiting in the airport for Mother Nature to get her finger out of her ass and let my flight go, I passed the time people watching and browsing all the horrible available food options ($9 cold roast beef sandwich, $8 cold chicken salad sandwich, $5 sausage/egg/cheese, or...pretzels, ugh.).

While deciding which sandwich I hated more, I looked up to see this pretty young thing,
and my heart stopped. First thought: CAMERA!

Had to step closer to get a better view of her....


and all was right with the world. exhale.

THEN! Fool #2 and Fool #3 stepped into view:

Are you kidding me!?!?

The woman on the left was obviously just as overcome as I was.

Mom, with the matching pank and white wig and BigSister BackFat in the green were traveling with us as well. Now, mom's wig game wasn't as topnotch as Madame Urrnge Tights/GhettoBooty. Mom's graying ass hair (read: sideburns) was unshaved and blew her whole cover. Apparently, mom decided at the last minute not to check this helmet in her luggage. She clearly JUST snatched it out the Ziplock back, gave it a shake, and applied that bitch atop her head with pride. Hmpf!

Now...my paparazzi skills are lacking, because I wasn't able to zoom in on BigSister BackFat the way I wanted to. Perhaps her rear storage containers affected the gravity in the area, and prevented me from moving any closer...? The gotcha gotcha (copyright, Laurie Ann Gibson) was that BigSister BackFat had MORE facial hair than I did. I triiiiiied to get in close on her moustache, because that thang was VERY pronounced, y'all. Like, shaped up and errything.

Just as a note, in some Asian countries, BigSister BackFat's bison-esque qualities would place her among and above local deities. In times of need, she could detach and sell the contents of her storage containers. Please step your rectangular shape game up. Thank you.

*shivers at the thought*

Additionally, I failed @ getting closer to sistergirl in the front, someone's daughter, apparently, with that silly ass headband on. When I tell you she had the DUMBEST bang situation EVER going on up there, I am kidding you not. That black cotton ass hair BARELY reached mid-forehead, and the headband wouldn't hold it down. *sigh* it was maddening, i swear.

Needless to say, their collective awesomeness (read: girth) didn't send the plane down in flames as I feared it would. All praise due to Saint Soulja Boy for that. Please use this as a guideline for any of you "less-than", aspirational "women" out there on the road to bettering yourselves. They are the example. Until YOUR facial hair scratches your man's face at night, you shouldn't even be calling yourself a LADY. *rolls eyes*


That is all.

i did it. i made it to LA in one piece. as the plane landed, i definitely had a small anxiety attack. since i'd put off addressing the emotions surrounding this move, it ALL hit me as the plane touched down on the runway. i began sweating, and taking lots of deep breaths, telling myself, "it's okay, it's okay." the pretty woman beside me tried to comfort me, but it didn't work. all the plans and "shit i have to do" ran up on me in that one moment, and it completely overwhelmed me. i'm prone to panic/anxiety attacks (i've had 4 within the past year and a half) so that is definitely something i must try to keep under control.

my little bro Cory picked me up fro the airport. Cory started off dancing in my company, Grüvment, years ago. he moved out here in 2003 with someone who's now insane and not dancing, but he held it together and did his damn thing. he was the quiet one back then, staying in back of rehearsals, learing choreography at his own pace, putting his own spin on things. now, he's been working with Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana for a few years, and is going back on the road with her in August. he's come a long way, indeed...we both have.

some pics from 2003...

so, we were both super excited to see eachother. he's been trying to get me here for years. he deemeed me "ready" years ago, but i held off. and after taking class yesterday, i see that i could have DEFINITELY slid right in ages ago. anywho...

he showed me around LA County. Bel-Air, Van Nuys, Sherman Oaks, the Hollywood Hills, Hollywood (the heart of it, the tourist hellhole), Glendale, a few other places i forgot, and then to where i'm staying in North Hollywood. we stopped for some grub at Mel's Diner in Hollywood,

which was amazing. gave us a chance to catch up a little more, and for my dad to grill Cory on if he thought i'd be "okay", via phone.

we then made our way to where i'm staying now, north hollywood. this area is called the NOHO Arts District. there are a handful of dance studios here, and HUNDREDS of dancers in particular live in this area. i'm crashing w the homie Adama. *handclap for Adama*

after catching up with her, riding around a little more with Cory (and some LIGHT shopping), Adama and I made our way to Debbie Reynold's Dance Studio, where I'm certain I'll be spending a ridiculous amount of time.

some of that anxiety returned upon entering and seeing people i'd seen on tours, videos, youtube, etc. surprisingly, the first class i took was Rhapsody, the woman i'd been training with in New York. i'm very comfortable with her, but in this new environment, i had to take a minute to get my mind right. lots of deep breaths. more "it's okay....it's okay...it's okay..." i can do this, right? i was fine. then, i overheard someone say she was teaching "Mannequin" by Trish Campbell, and i got nervous all over again. this piece is some of my favorite choreography from Rhapsody, ever (peep it here and here). so yea...amazing. class actually turned out pretty well. i'm proud of myself. according to Cory, however, my expectations were way too high for these people. i'd always assumed i'd be overwhelmed by dozens and dozens of ridiculously amazing dancers. i was wrong. not to say people sucked, because these kids WORK their asses off. but, i just wasnt as overwhelmed as i expected to be, which was fucking great.

i've pretty much fallen in love with LA. it's a beautiful city with ENDLESS opportunities. i met some dope people yesterday and will make the effort to meet a few more amazing people everyday. today: gym, ballet @ 1, contemporary jazz @ 2:30, and hip hop @ 6. should be another great day. i'll keep you posted.


stay tuned.

I used to tell my friends that Anita Baker was my mother. I can remember trying to convince the kids in my kindergarten class that my mother wrote and sang "Sweet Love", as if they knew or cared who she was.

Apparently, as a toddler, whenever Anita came on TV, or her records were played, little Alex would scream and dance and, generally, lose my effing mind. I could recognize her voice, "sing" her songs, and mimick her crazy woman side-to-side shoulder rock like a champ, all at the age of 3. I've been told that if anybody touched one of her records, or moved it out of my reach, I'd raise hell. I laugh when my mom brings this up, because can actually picture it...

I still actually feel a way when I hear "Sweet Love." They should have "known" then...lol.

En route to Los Angeles (literally, in the air as I type this). After rushing to the airport, my flight was delayed, in addition to all planes being grounded for weather. In the interim, the incoming flight was redirected to Ohio "to refuel", and finally arrived at 8:55. With the deplaning, cleaning, and 30 minutes of chillin' on the runway, we didn't take off until 9:46, rather than 5:35. Of course, I missed my connecting flight in Denver. So, I got to spend the night wandering around Denver International Airport, exhausted, brokedown and (I discovered) ashy as hell (like…white ankles ashy), until this 7:15AM flight. Good fucking times.

The past 24 hours has been a whirlwind of emotions that I had purposely put off until the last possible moment. I was FINE until I went to meet Dre for our traditional lunch of $5 footlongs (both chicken breast on honey oat!) yesterday. I turned onto 5^th Avenue, and it began. Shit. I hit 41^st and got choked up. By 40^th I felt it coming hard and fast. On 39^th tears were forming. And when he turned the corner, I was a ridiculous, blubbering mess, in the middle of 5^th Avenue. Sexy, right? Again, too many suppressed emotions coming out at once. This boy has been, essentially, my ROCK over this past year. I attribute my survival and sanity from that tragic breakup (literally, it crashed and burned) last winter until now to him, largely. We’ve pushed each other to be successful, strong, and amazing in general. He commented, “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be skinny!” True words, indeed. The last quarter of 2008, we begun round 2 of our fitness obsession. We’d call/text each other religiously, sharing our progress for the day (“YO! I just did an hour of cardio and I feel amazing!”), pushing each other to do more, more, more. The results are quite obvious, and I’ll always think of him when I find an old pair of size 34 (gasp!) jeans.

Anywho…being the award-winning procrastinator that I am, I didn't really begin preparing for the move until late biggest last week, leading to yesterday's frenzied pace.

I just realized the scale of such a move. What will take some adjusting to is the fact that I'm no longer a 6-hour Chinatown bus ride from my parents. I won't be able to call up my best friends and tell them to meet me in Union Square in twenty minutes. I'm leaving my comfort zone of friends and associates to, essentially, start over in Los Angeles. This is major for me. I’ll be forced to blossom socially. I’m told that I’m more outgoing and confident than before, and I will be forced to continue growing, and to adapt quickly. I do have a sense of adventure and always welcome change, so this new phase shall be quite interesting.

Monday night, I had a beautiful, intimate dinner with some of my closest friends (with one notable absence). I chose Asian (just the restaurant name, not the cuisine offered...go figure) because we've had many great times there. On New Year’s Eve, about a dozen of us got trashed there and took all kinds of trashy pictures. Two people (friends) ended up doing the tongue tango, and Dre and I reenacted choreo from the Rock Witchu Tour, full out, for no particular reason. Good times. On Dre's birthday, we wound up here after dinner. Twas my first and last time drinking until I vomited. As I stumbled home, I bargained with God, "If you end the tornado in my stomach, I'll never drink again." Apparently God knew I was lying. And then I threw up my entire childhood. Oh joy.

On Monday, though, the mood was much more relaxed. As I walked up, I kept telling myself, "This is going to suck." I wanted to see everyone one last time, but I. hate. goodbyes. Numerous times, someone would hit me with an exaggerated sad face, or a "Please don't go!" Mechanically, I'd shoot back, "Stop it!" Up until then, I'd successfully kept myself overwhelmingly busy (even fought off a few panic attacks) to avoid getting emotional.

All went well, until this bitch Inez announces, "Let's go around the table and all say why we love Alex."

Me: You guys we don't have to do this...

Overruled.

So it began. One outpouring after another. Some cried, some didn't. I held it together, cause "I aint no punk bitch" (copyright - Rayona Young, 2007). I knew I was loved. I was sure of it. Individually, we'd all been through trials and events that brought us closer, without fail. However, you NEVER really know how much you have affected someone else. Things that are completely natural to you may have a life-changing effect on someone else. Everyone's remarks further confirmed that I was on the right path in life. As of late, I'd felt incredibly shitty about leaving. I felt guilty for leaving. However, I relate this experience with my move to New York in 2006. Then, like now, I had to put all outside influences aside and make a completely selfish decision, regardless of how it affected others. And now, as I fly across the mountains of Colorado, I'm once again overcome with a sense of peace. Finally.

Stay tuned.