Saturday, September 25, 2004
My voice dont travel much but my heart runs miles... After five days I might lose you, yes you...if you're afraid of a little silence... They say I love too hard or perhaps too fast. I place a lot of dreams in front of me and find special purpose in every potential thought or expression of love. The beauty and purpose of my soul leans heavily on every beat of my heart. I've been accused of knowing exactly how to hold a woman. Even those that get held by many men each night tell me my arms are made for sleeping in. They could be lying but somehow it feels like truth. I've felt it and seen the comfort in a woman's eyes... before... Her gentle sigh felt like cool fresh air. Something makes her do that and perhaps I am him... the reason...
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
It's a late night or perhaps an early morning. I'm sitting here. A song is playing that brings to mind the thoughts I have while gazing at a pair of pictures alongside a love letter written by my grandmother, Senora to my grandfather, Virgil. The song is called "Coming From Where I'm From." I'm lovin it not only because the singer possesses a deeply rich, southern voice but also because I've heard these words directed at me a few times both as a question and a statement. Where do you come from? How do you come about your ideas for love? What makes you think the way you do?
I'm reading this love letter written by my grandmother and it makes me smile. Her handwriting and the words she chooses look to me as though she struggled a bit, trying to find the right way to say what was on her mind. She wanted to convey a message of love and to assure my grandfather that he was truly the man of her dreams. She thanks him for convincing her to go away to school. I take it they weren't really "official" at the time she wrote this confession of love on September 4, 1933. She goes on to remind him how he joked with her about going away to learn to speak "better english" but then when she'd return, she might not want anything to do with him. She closed the letter with these words leaving him and me with no doubts as to how she felt about Virgil. "I'm coming back to make you my one and only..."
Where do I come from? How do I come about my ideas for love? What makes me think the way that I do? Right now all I can do is smile, point to the heavens and continue to groove off of this slowjam for a little while longer. I'm blessed to come from where I'm from and nothing or no one in my life thus far can make that feeling less true. The sad part is that someone actually tried to do just that...
Sunday, September 12, 2004
A Sly Salute
This day dripped constantly with patriotism on the TV screen and in the streets of LA. 911 flashed everywhere, as it should I imagine... I seen this dude walking across a bridge overpass, just above the 101 freeway. He carried a very large flag that trailed behind him in such a beautiful way, held up by the gentle breeze of an early evening. It was a sight that had me wishing I had a camera but instead, I was able to simply photograph and capture the moment in memory. My only worry was the possibilty of getting hit by another driver who might be so overcome with the sight of the flag that they forget we're traveling at a somewhat highspeed on the freeway. Luckily, nothing like that happened but folks did slow down a bit.
Funny thing, on this day I also found myself paying tribute to the musical legend and genius of Sly Stone. I think that brotha was one of the most patriotic artists of his time. His enthusiasm when he first started, matched the times of the day and his later discoveries and disappointments could be felt just as strongly. Seems like in the beginning he thought he could change the world and just create sounds that would unite everybody... Dancing to the same rhythm; humming the same melodies... That's a tough mission for one man to take on and even tougher to convince a nation to adopt, one melody of love. Ain't nothing sadder than a creative, gifted soul losing his faith in love...Keeping the faith is a test all by itself..
Sunday, September 05, 2004
I sat up late thinking about love and remembering when I was a passenger to a beautiful future. I sat there watching...her... The way she moved. The way she sat, leaned forward while driving. That alone made me think about a time when my father used to laugh at me while driving because I leaned forward, reminiscent of his own father that leaned forward while driving as well. That was cool and it was such a trip to see it in the form of a woman who no matter what will always remain beautiful in my eyes, mind, spirit and heart. I honor her in some of the things I write and I hope she's proud and perhaps touched a little bit. I expect nothing in return for I have memories that last as long as I wish to visualize what leaves me feeling good to this day, four years later... When it's good, it's good.... Harmonious... Like a flirtatious dance mixing perfectly with an infectious groove, trying desperately to keep the bounce from seeping outside where the world can get to it because sometimes, most times... life changes things... Life camouflages reality when we think love ain't possible... We think we have to submit to the sting of sadness and being stuck in situations that keep us wanting... Why not embrace something that feels incredible and thus build upon it and make it fly in the face of all that's wrong in the world.... Give folks something to aspire to rather than retire to. I dream constantly..I remain positive even when I'm down because I know what I deserve and I know what I've given... On days where I wish I could go back, it's not so much so that I can make things turn out different, it's only because I truly celebrate what once was... It was great... it was incredible... it was right... Harmonious.... until... ciao'
Saturday, September 04, 2004
Breezy Friday Evening...
It was a hot but breezy Friday evening when I met you. I remember the gentle smile I had on my face because of two unexpected moments. After I swiped my credit card and began filling up the tank, something told me to look up gradually. The sky was sort of a purplish orange color and with my creative mind working overtime, I'd placed a mental picture frame around the AM PM sign up above. It was sort of funny but something about the sign, the words and the sky in the background seemed to mix just right. All day, all night, I thought to myself and then I saw you. There you were on the other side of the gas pump trying to figure out which number corresponded with the pump you were about to use. I pointed and said "it's right there" as I intruded on your mission to figure it out for yourself. You didn't seem to mind, though. You smiled and then you walked away. I watched you. Seemed like you were halfway performing for a brotha. I laughed gently and then you turned around and caught me smiling, again. And again, you didn't seem to mind.
When you returned from pre-paying for your gas, I tried to be discreet when stealing glances at you. I have no doubt you knew what I was doing. Why else would you be smiling and trying to catch glimpses from the side of your eye? That was when the second unexpected moment happened. You said, "hello" and then we made eye contact. The sound of your voice turned that hot breeze into a cool mental shower. I was immediately drenched by your beautiful spirit. I finally returned the greeting just before the sound of my gas pump clicked, signifying that my tank was now full. Somehow it made me feel like this unexpected dream was over, but it wasn't.
You laughed when you said "come here often?" I smiled almost bashfully and said, no. You commented on my ride while somehow throwing in the fact that you were impressed by my height. Seems like you were taking in as much as you could in the little time that we had for this moment. I tried to come up with a fitting line for the occasion but it was probably corny though you smiled. I told you that my height was just perfect for you but truthfully there was something so incredible about you that I'd adjust myself to any size or height you'd happen to be. Of course that's probably easy for me to say being that from head to toe, you already had me in awe. That's when your pump clicked. Your tank was full and this dream moment was seconds from ending. You looked almost disappointed. We shared that feeling because I was too. We didn't say a lot or perhaps we didn't say enough during this encounter but nothing compares to the way you lit up when I asked you for your phone number. You brushed your hair to the side. You smiled. You nodded your head, showing me a warm sign of approval. Then you said "okay, and do you have a card or something?" I patted my pockets. I usually do have a business card but this time I didn't. Then an idea hit me. I opened my car door on the passenger side where I was standing closest to and pulled out my journal. I ripped one of the white pages from it, grabbed not one but two pens and turned to look at you. This time I caught you smiling, though your right eyebrow was raised. I may have to ask you sometime what ran through your mind. I could probably guess.
I walked over to you. I handed you one of the pens and the piece of paper that I'd ripped. You began writing your name and then I stopped you. I told you it would be fun if we write it together. You questioned what I mean't. I said "let's look at each other while writing our names and numbers; see what happens..." You laughed but you appreciated my creativity. That's when you sort of moved in closer to me. Seems like you adjusted really well to the little game I was playing. We both wrote slowly, trying both to write correctly while at the same time trying to see who would look away first. It was funny. It was a nice little moment of mind control because it was hard as heaven trying to concentrate on numbers while looking deeply into your eyes, at your nose, your lips, and back to your eyes. You played unfair when you took a slow, deep breath and then blew it out gently. When your lips parted my hand shook. When I glanced down, I had written all over the page and you? Just like I'd imagine, your writing was just like you; beautiful, fluid, sexy, and seemingly confident. It was great meeting you, even if this dream really was a dream...