YES WE CAN...!


(...be on time! )

Went to hear a little spoken word last night. Great experience although I had been suffering from a splitting headache since about 5 a.m.; and aspirin is not an option unless I feel the urge to have someone shoot me. Thought about slapping a cop a few times, but I digress...

Arriving at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe around 9:25, the doors had not yet opened. But by 9:35, the very long line began to inch forward. Now the NPC website states emphatically, verbatim-punctuate-em, that the Slam starts "around 10." Things got to pop-a-locking around 10:15. Not bad at all, especially in comparison to another spot down south that shall remain nameless 'cause I really do like the place, and I sincerely hope that one day, sooner than later, they "get right." The unnamed bohemian iconic, historical joint started their weekly spoken word set almost 2 hours late when I was there last month.

See, punctuality is a serious issue for me. At 30-something damn near 40, I severely dislike, being late. It has always been a personal challenge that I have for the most part, overcome. Yet er' once in a while, I still have issues with being on time. Furthermore this last time around in the military I actually got written up for it (three weeks before I got out, no less; can u dig that?). To me, tardiness is a sign of disrespect, regardless as to if it is simply a matter of something you were supposed to do for yourself or making someone else wait.

I remember growing up and my Mom yelling, screaming, putting us on punishment and all that jazz to get us to understand that in order to "be somebody," we have to be on time. We learned the lesson and did well. Ironically, now Mommy's always the one who is late...(wait, is she reading this thing?)

The thing that had me igging (old school word; do not attempt to use if you are under the age of 35) about the late start at the spoken word event in Atlanta, is that I wasted 1 hour and 40 minutes--100 minutes, 6,000 seconds, that I can never get back. I did my best to make good use of the time, by calling people who I had not yet spoken with in over a year and confabbing with the bartender. I also contemplated asking for a refund and going home. By that time, though, the show was already 45 min. late. More importantly, the lack of live spoken word for 12 months, 8 days, had me so thirsty for "the word" that I couldn't possibly leave.

Overall, the decision was mine as to what to do, or not to do with my time. Nevertheless, I still felt those in charge offended me by opting to start the show late because a few of the poets were running late and the crowd was a little thin. Perhaps they would have given me back my money if I had asked for it. It is tangible and real. But the time, that is also very real, is much more precious than money and something they could never, ever replace.

It is 2008. Operating on "cp" time is not acceptable, should not be tolerated and should be discouraged at every turn.

Currently Reading: I Wish I Had A Red Dress by Pearl Cleage Currently Listening To: Respect Yourself by The Staple Singers, Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now by McFadden and Whitehead

SEEN/HEARD
(Oh hell to the no!)

In the supermarket the other day in Brooklyn, scanning the aisles, and saw a peculiar sight: a bottle label with a fully nude woman and probably partially nude man in the throws of passion (say what?!?!).



"Pump It Up," is an organic roots tonic, which is supposed to help with sexual stamina.

Um, take me back to the day when Viagra wasn't sold on the shelf of a grocery store right above the Epsom Salt.


Currently Listening To: Think Of You by Ledisi
Currently Reading: I Wish I Had A Red Dress by Pearl Cleage

DOWN TO THE WIRE

All week long the tension had been building.

The question: could the New York Giants beat the undefeated New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLII?

Not only did the Pats have a perfect season and hadn’t stuttered once, the Giants had not been in a Super Bowl in a minute and they started the season off 0-2. Coach Coughlin's job was in serious jeopardy at the end of last season and all through this year's play-offs, the team was the underdog. I wanted the Giants to win, but had serious doubts. This was going to be tough. In my mind, unless there was a blow-out—in the Giants’ favor, it just didn’t look good. But then what did I know? I am a die hard Buffalo Bills, Knicks, and Mets fan. None of these teams has seen the inside of a final round play-off game in over 14 years. Although not a Giant fan, but a tru Nu Yawker, I, like the millions of other fans, wished the team well in defeating the snooty team from "Bah-ston."

I watched the game at Solomon’s Porch Café located on Stuyvesant in the heart of Bed-Sty, Brooklyn (where else?). I sat in the corner, tapping away on my laptop, and occasionally chatting with the other patrons, a couple of whom, I believe were New England fans (say what?). We were glued to the screen (well, 70% of the time I was). It was a nail-biting, down-to-the-wire, hold-on-to-your-hat, photo-finish. Both teams’ defense lines did their jobs (hence the low score) and allowed very few first downs. In the fourth quarter, the lead changed four times.

What a game; and what an example. As Americans, we are plagued by so much right now; bird flu, identity theft, Eblola virus, pedophiles, terrorism, school shootings, drug wars--and that's just the morning news. Easy to just give up and throw in the towel. Alas, however, I have decided from here forth, to take a different approach. Not just because of this game, but because life itself has been too good to me thus far to ditch any of my dreams or goals.

Sure, things get tough, but it wouldn't be life if it didn't. I'm pretty sure the Giants would have loved it if they had walked out on the field and simply been able to waltz away with the championship. But then, it would not have been much of a game, would it have? The Pats brought their "A through Z" game, stifling their opponent and gaining the lead late in the game. Yet the Giants managed to stay focused when faced with a serious challenge: down by four points with only two and a half minutes left to play. Not much time to pull things together, but they did. When the final buzzer sounded, they were the champions.

That's how we have to treat life. Stay in the game, keep focus and play your ass off until the fat lady sings--in stereo!

Axe.

Currently Listening To: Native New Yorker by Odyssey, New York, New York by Frank Sinatra

Currently Reading: Speak So You Can Speak Again by Zora Neale Hurston