need sleep.

im tired and stressed and have no time for myself.
but when i do have time i want to sleep or play online games.

i need to focus. prioritize. its only been a month!! what the hell? when am i gonna get a chance to sleep?

i got plans to stay low key tonight. nap. tidy my room. get a head start on these readings for class- although none of this can happen until after 9ish which is when umoja ends. damn.

"the mod is starting to smell like a bunch of people who need to be taken care of. not smelly, it just reminds me of a nursery home or a daycare."

kind of sickly and overpoweringly sweet like too ripe fruit. im starting to smell it too.

where's my welcome mat?

what's wrong with you whodoyouthinkyouare you think yr some exception to some humanrule you think its gonna be perfect or romantic or stop being such an idealistic asshole

2/24/09 12:23

"i will fall in love with a gender slip into it like a bath."

yeah youthink its gonna be like that huh perfect sweet sexual perfect

nuh uh yr wrong, it aint that like that nope so you can just get that head of yrs out of the clouds now no baths no welcome mat no people with arms outstretched no community no community no community


... if i find ppl who think like me look like me act like me agree with me if i find them then who is getting left out? what abt the ppl who are still alone? who still have questions that need to be answered?

in yr quest for authenticity well arent you just excluding someone else better to just be individuals lonely alone always searching for what i dont know but at least we can be together in our loneliness.

langston hughes popped yr cherry

52 living room, 2/22/09 1:39am

"i lost my virginity on carpeted stairs beneath a poem."

wow, i don't think it gets any deeper than that.
---

in other news, awkward wkend timez. full of awk(frnd)crushes, bad parties, emergency rooms and worst of all- procrastination.

oh, and cooley dickinson aint got nothin on me- in and out after 8 hrs. so here's a big thanks to you, cooley dicks!

body issues

it is 12:41PM and I am curled up in a tight ball on my bed in pain, trying not to cry or throw up or pass out.

these are the times that i am reminded that my body is female, that it has the power to do certain things to me that i hate. like make me cower in pain.

i doubt that im going to do much moving today.

dear smith

why do you always disappoint me? why are yr parties always so bad?

oh dear.

if you don't step up yr game, then we are going to have to terminate our relationship.

<3, stokes.

i bet ricky never had these problems...

she hugged her arms to her body so so tight i thought all the parts of her would float away if she let go of them.

and all i wanted to do was kiss each. and. every. knuckle.

my vday in two sentences

heard from my window, enfield sat feb 14, 2009

it sounds like screams but if you listen closer its a grrl singing the saddest song

as her high notes wail i wonder who went and done her wrong.

ode to sampson (your hair was long when we first met)

in my 9 yr old defiance, i fled from the comb,
swore off its biting babylonian teeth for good.

in my 19 yr old defiance, i ran right back to it
sampson's oath forgotten, i cut off my crown of strength

allowed myself for the first time in 10 yrs to be vulnerable.

when the first dread dropped, there was silence.
my heart did not stop, i did not fall to the ground in tears.
as far as i knew, everyone was still living, still breathing.
my fingers twirled and pulled at the new growth
amazed at the simplicity of it all.

when they cut the rest, regina crooned in the background
like a biblical temptress
and i sat in my chair, calm yet afraid.

i always thought id cut my hair while in mourning,
tear them out and offer them to the sky,
but instead i was still

and i cant help but wonder who i have just let go

what part of me did i decide to let die and bury
and when should i stop grieving?

hair, enfield mon 2/9/09 12:11AM

its gone.

diary logs

pretty self- explanatory.

------------

enfield 2/4/09 1:01 am

"I just feel old sometimes."

------------

the sexual liberation of mammy

when you take away someone's ability to be sexual, you take away their humanity.

if mammy was able to be sexual, she would be the white mistress' biggest fear- but is that necessarily true? If she was able to be sexual, who is to say that she would be straight?

The Watermelon Woman

"mammy, have you ever been lonely?
do you believe in love?"

------------

my room, friendly conversation while sharing a bowl: 1/12/09 3:12am

i could join the circus- i'd make so much money! if my feet were fused together, like this? i'd be like a mermaid- i'd make so much friggin money!"

------------

i can't get hamlet out of my head.

To die, to sleep--
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.

Hamlet wasn't suicidal, he was just tired.

he just wanted sweet dreams.

he just wanted to rest, peacefully, forever.

-------------

neosoul is dead?

someone once told me that neosoul is dead, but
the mere idea of our bodies touching sets
trumpets ablaze in my head, and
its a rare type of woman that gets me to speak in time
with shakespearean sonnets and nursery rhymes, but
this is what you do to me.

isnt it obvious that im lost in the melody of our
quarternotes and halfnotes and backstrokes...

-------------

children speak the truth

Saturday, Dec. 20th- 2:45PM

little brother playing computer games

go, go..

why is the computer screen making me so slow?

here it comes here it comes hereitcomes- no!

i'm afraid to die, i'm afraid to die, i'm afraid to die...


...me too.
--------------

family secrets, boston 5:47PM, 12/25/08

"i wish i could just be dead to her. I wish my name would be lost on her lips."

---------------

love song final scene mammy

mammy, are you happy?

mammy are you lonely?

mammy, do you love him? me neither.

---

"darkies never dream"
love song? slow dance.. mammy yella gal.

end of the show- puts on rag, puts on apron. begins to sing

-----------------

paris and cigarettes

i am sitting in my room, smoking a cigarette, listening to a sweet melodic mixture of reggae and a man's tenor voice yelling in the quad. if you asked me a couple of years ago, i would have told you that this was paris. paris was one of the biggest reasons that i started smoking, dreaming black grrls in paris, practicing smoking behind cars in my hs parkin lot during th 5 minute break between classes, hoping the teacher walking down the hall doesn't smell the sticky stench of tobacco on my coat.

i had a dream that i got my book back. i dont rly remember who i lent it to, some other black grrl with big dreams. but im my dream, i got the book back, and the cover had been ripped off. it was laying on the floor. thats all i can remember, but that image of the floor is so vivid in my mind- like somewhere along the way, i lost a grip on my dreams and let them drop.

------------------

tv and otherworlds

as a kid i would press my face to the television screen, amazed at how the picture looked upclose. id always find myself looking at a constellation of red green and blue pixels, but i thought that if i looked in the right spot then id find some portal to another realm. id be able to claw my hands through the screen and pull myself into that tv screen, magically transport somewhere else. this could very well be why i need glasses now.

after a while, i gave up on televisions and would dive into books, get lost in my imagination. i read books like a starved child, id suck them down, at least one a day, like vital nourishment. have you ever gotten so involved in a book that nothing else matters? eating, sleeping, peeing- it can all be forgotten as long as you get to the next chapter. when i was in second grade, my favorite book series was the baby sitters club. it wa an easy read, and i had dreams of friendships like that. me and my four, five, six best friends would start some sort of club to make money. wed be stylish but well liked teenagers. there would be the boy-crazy one, the tomboy, the goody two shoes, the artist, the one whos from out of town.. it would be great.

-----------------

weather report hampshire college wed 1/7/09 9:14 AM

small chunks of hail remind me of the noise pop rocks make when you swallow them too quickly the low quiet gurgle of sugar crackling in the back of yr throat.

-----------------

robbie's room, dakinf204 sun 2/8/2009 4:38PM

the melody of breadfruit falling from a nearby tree

the thud resounds still in my eardrums 9 yrs later

suck suck and sweet balls

i've got a sweet tooth for the treats that i ate as a young grrl in jamaica. suck suck and sweet balls...

the man across the street used to sell little sweets and snacks to the local kids from his living room. inside, he had a freezer of plastic baggies filled with brightly colored sugar water. i'd give him the small silver ten dollar jamaican coin and grab a red bag, my favorite, and a blue bag as well for my cousin.

it was only in that house did i ever see his wife, a skinny, sickly looking woman. she didnt say much but she would always smile at me and ask me to relay the message " tell yuh hawnty mi sey mi a come look fi har soon, yea hyear?" and i'd shake my head yes and run out of the house, message already forgotten, before she could scold me on my scabby knees and dirty clothes.

i didn't know her very well but i knew that she made her husband smile. he had a big bellied laugh that i could hear from all the way across the street. the last time i visited jamaica, aunty patsy told me his wife had passed. just dropped down dead in her front yard. her husband came over later that night to say hello. he didn't look as happy anymore- his smile was gone, and the friendly glint in his eyes were replaced with a wild one. he asked me if i remembered him.

"yes." i smiled. "you sold me the sweet balls and the suck-suck."

he grabbed my hand, pulled me through the gate. asked me if i still wanted to come over for some suck-suck. his smile seemed too earnest, too forced.

i think his name was mr lee. he was dark as night and kind of short and his hands were rough and leathery. he was lonely and missed his wife and was slowly losing his mind. needless to say, i never went into his house again.

i still occasionally get a craving for some sugary tamarind seeds and frozen kool-aid.

feb resolution:

take the stairs.