431: Live with a pregnant girl to whom I am not related...who has a one-year old child....and can't cook.
Daily life living with a pregnant girl has been quite colorful to say the least. Being a man who appreciates order, seeing remnants of King Joseph's (yes) failed attempts at feeding himself breakfast scattered across the dining room/kitchen area floor has taken getting used to. A woman who can calmly cook today's food on a stove riddled with yesterday's mess is no woman I would want to hump...if...I...were a fisherman. That's beside the point. While this has been the most enjoyable of my living experiences here, it's still not completely ideal.
I respect my body. I also don't have a human being growing inside of my unwed body as she does, so we eat very differently. She can apparently live off of Cheetos and mini-chocolate donuts, while I keep that shit away because I love it so much and am unable to eat it in moderation otherwise. At the moment (12:35am), she has taken it upon herself to use the amazing steamed broccoli I prepared earlier in her....GOULASH. Now, I'm no expert on GOULASH, but I am certain this is one of her West Los Angeles-originated adaptations. It will undoubtedly contain "beef hot links", a clear favorite, and my broccoli...as well as my rice...and ketchup, another clear favorite.
After briefly consulting my cousin, Google, GOULASH is typically stew-based, and is traditionally made with beef, neither of which applies to this...dish. What she has prepared can safely be labeled Unwed Black Mother of Two Casserole. And, without tasting it, I give that shit two tatted-up breasts WAY DOWN.
Her last creation: Velveeta Shells & Bullshit. Now, I was raised by caring parents. It's safe to assume that, most of the time, my family loved me. Knowing this, it's also safe to say they wouldn't prepare me for failure by sending me out into the world with an appreciation for powdered pasta dishes. If you must only add heat and water, it's not macaroni and cheese. I'm sure that's in the Bible somewhere. I don't trust it. Or anyone who stocks their shelves with Velveeta Shells & Bullshit. Or anyone who has ever built a meal around Velveeta Shells & Bullshit. We are not college students, misappropriating scholarship refund checks on Jordans and 40-inch Yaki. We are FUCKING ADULTS WHO EXPECT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. With that said, I don't eat instant pasta not called Ramen. What's next, Spamburgers and bologna-based lasagna? *gags*
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While on the treadmill in the gym yesterday, working on my sessy, I saw my old roommate waddling down the sidewalk across the street.
Yes. Chocolate Peter Griffin hasn't eaten himself to death just yet. A bolt of confidence instantly shot through me like pain through his poor, overworked, oppressed joints. I thought he disappeared, seeing as how he still owes me money, but alas, he in fact lives to die another day inhale another steak burrito.
When we last saw one another, he'd sold the refrigerator for cash before managing to disappear into fat and musty thin air.
He at least had the decency to attempt to preserve my food.
Needless to say, he was the roommate from McCreepy, clogged artery Hell. I never saw him again, until this week. Suddenly, my letter to him is once again timely. Missed it??
Enrich your life: HERE.
Top that unattainable level of wretchitude and Latoya Jackson-strength failtasticalness.
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I was turned onto the all-embracing, multifaceted Platinum Pied Pipers by the homie Bre'ana of She's So Offbeat last year. Since then, the Detroit-based collective has been in HEAVY rotation around these parts. Wajeed and Saadiq (not Raphael) have beautifully fused their varying production styles into a cohesive, soulful, often-other worldly sound. Here is perhaps my favorite track by them (now known as PPP), from 2009's Abundance. Check out this futuristic groove with an 80's vibe (yes, a futuristic 80's vibe), Luv Affair, featuring vocals by the amazing Karma Stewart.
Peep it: "Luv Affair"
Equally amazing: "Smoking Mirrors", "On a Cloud", and "Sanctuary".
What do YOU have on repeat these days?
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I was JUST (literally three minutes ago) inspired and motivated by one of my favorite minors on this planet (that isn't related to me by blood).
Meet Taahira.
If you haven't heard of YahZarah, you may want to reevaluate the people you call your friends, as well your general direction in life.
I was first introduced to YahZarah's (Yah-za-rah) music via her Blackstar album, a few years after she sang backup for Erykah Badu on Mama's Gun album and tour. She has been featured on both Foreign Exchange projects, Connected as well as Leave It All Behind, one of the most sonically cohesive albums I've heard since FutureSex/LoveSounds.
Her third solo album, The Ballad of Purple Saint James, is due May 4. Peep the lead single "Why Dontcha Call Me No More?": HERE (right click, "Save As").
Now, on to the freebie. I was geeked when the link for her album sampler was posted on The Foreign Exchange site. In particular, I was ready to hear a clean, polished version of "Starship", my favorite song by this amazing woman thus far. I loved her before, but she blew me away with this song. Check it:
Here's the sampler....
Shadow intro
All My Days feat. Darien Brockington
Cry Over You feat. Phonte
Have A Heart
Change Your Mind
Starship
Shadow Outro
The Ballad of Purple Saint James Sampler
Also, The Prelude (2008)
02. Real Good (Feat. Phonte Of Little Brother)
03. Shook (Interlude)
04. U Turn Me On
05. Oooh Baby U
06. Where I Is
07. Come To Me (Nothing Like U) (Feat. Raheem DeVaughn)
08. Natural
09. Tired Of Watching (Love & Sunshine)
Get it Aquí
her rendition of "Billie Jean":
Today, I spoke with a regular at my job who has no dishes, pots, pans, or silverware in his apartment. He also has no pictures on his walls, no plants, no books, and no pets. His theory: "If I don't use it everyday, why do I need it?"
He eats at my job, on average, six out of seven days a week. He works as an ad executive and also dabbles in music. He travels a lot. The last four years is the longest he's lived in one place in his adult life. Despite this fact, he's still reluctant to get too comfortable in once place, and certainly doesn't need the usual "clutter" in his life to feel at home.
"Magazines on coffee tables, for example, are pointless. Why do you have magazines from six months ago on your table?"
He's a pretty normal guy: he works endlessly, never has company, and is very private. He appears fairly bright. This man makes it a point to rid his life of any "excess baggage or pointless inanimate objects." An image of George Clooney's in Up In the Air comes to mind.
His story begins in Central Florida. He was born into a happy home with loving parents and siblings. What sticks out most is his mother's obsession with "stuff". He told me about a spare bedroom that became a storage closet of sorts. Childhood memories, old furniture, outdated clothes, and abandoned fitness equipment could all be found there.
When he came West, he moved into a huge apartment that was "exquisitely" laid out, with perfectly arranged furniture, books, posters, plants, fountains, statues, etc. Then he moved, throwing a few things away. And moved again, throwing a little bit more away. And again. And again, moving with less "stuff" each time. Now: "If I needed to move, I could do it in an hour," he summarizes.
I couldn't fathom not having a fork in my apartment. Having drifted around Brooklyn during my time there, I cherish something as simple as HAVING a place in which to place the "stuff" that I've acquired over the past few months. I do respect this man's views on minimizing one's life, but I feel it's necessary to be surrounded by things you place value on that make you comfortable in your environment and/or trigger positive thoughts and memories.
Before I moved to Los Angeles, I spent two weeks cleaning out my Brooklyn apartment. During that time, I had to sort through boxes of (essentially) junk that I'd held onto since high school for one reason or another. A ziploc bag of love letters from back when I was "interacting" with two boys and two girls at the same time. Also: Amusement park wristbands, school talent show programs, restaurant receipts, etc. Stacks of emails from the last girl I dated (the one who wanted to get pregnant, resulting in a pregnancy scare, thus ending my career as a fisherman), that I hadn't looked at in years. While far from the packrat I used to be, I momentarily revisited many of the memories attached to each item, and was able to throw things away to allow for an easier move.
I am big on nostalgia, but the occasional cleanse is healthy. While I've acquired dozens of books in the last few months, but rid my life of people, things, and situations that didn't improve my quality of life. Being aware of health issues and goals on my horizon, I found it necessary to lighten my load, in a sense. I've even had to re-evaluate relationships with so-called "best friends" (more on this later) and focus on proven, more promising bonds. As a result of all of this, I am the healthiest (mentally) that I've been in years.
What have you had to let go of recently?
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CHANGE.
Here's yet another great video from good friend Rodney via his More Life Vlog. This one is on the Law of Change. Take a look:
He's such an infectiously positive person. My previous mention of him: HERE.
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all feedback is welcomed. yes, even those of you in the Bronx.|be notified of new posts: Subscribe
I've just survived my first earthquake. *applause*
A 6.9 magnitude earthquake just hit Baja California, Mexico. My apartment shook. The mirror wobbled. To commemorate my first California Quake, I shall celebrate my survival with a healthy slice of Red Velvet cake.
After I finish this workout, I shall go and have a hip-expanding chunk of cake. However, I will leave my shame at home. God would prefer it that way.
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I just finished Richard Wright's Rite of Passage. This is a short story about Johnny Gibbs, a teenager who runs away from home after finding out his family is actually a foster family, and that he's being sent to live with in a new home later that night.
At just over 100 pages, Rite of Passage is a quick, easy read. Having read several of Wrights other novels and short story collections, this book only strengthens my love for this man's work. Like many of his other titles, one of the prevailing themes in this book is (sudden) loss of innocence. Here, protagonist Johnny Gibbs runs away and falls in with a group of wayward boys, going from loved son and promising student to street gang leader within the course of 24-hours.
