First Comes The Pain

Yesterday I went to look at an apartment not far from work. I could practically walk everyday but it's now beginning to hit me-my marriage is finally going to be over. This morning I was listening to Brian McKnight on the Wave (94.7 for those of you not in SoCal) and each morning he does a listener-requested song and this morning someone requested Cyndi Lauper's True Colors, her hit song from the 80's. There's a line in the song that says ...don't be unhappy, can't remember when I last saw you laughing and my wife said those very same words to me about a month ago. The next thing I knew, I was in the restroom weeping like a baby. I couldn't stop. After all of the struggle and disappointment I've gone through over the years, I still wish it could work. After all the lies, the deception, the misdirected anger, I still love my wife.

I think what hurt me the most was not knowing why or how this world got to the place where we damage each other so badly. I'm not talking about my wife and I, I'm talking about how people do so much damage to children. The damage that molestation and abuse does is lifelong. For this reason, there should be severe punishment for those who molest. But molestors are usually survivors of molestation. So where do you start. The perpetrators are former victims. What a mess we've made.

This is just a theory, but I believe the reasons the Italians might be so violent and despotic may have something to do with the relationship they have with the Catholic church. With all the molestation of the alter boys, the response could be an overly-aggressive disposition to prove manhood. I'm not making accusations-I don't want to be sleeping with the fishes, I just know the history of the Catholic church and their relationship with the Italian community. Perhaps that explains the Machismo that exists within latin communities.

My wife can't bring herself to trust me because someone violated her so badly as a child, she can't trust anyone. The only way she knows to respond is with anger. It's what she's used to survive for so many years. When you are 6 or 7 years old and people are doing all sorts of unspeakable things to you, your only solace is anger. You hold on to hate. I feel so sorry for her-I can walk away from it-from her. But she's got live with it for the rest of her life. I bet she wishes she could walk away from it too. Man, this world can be such an ugly place sometimes. I want to hurt the people who did this to her. Because I still love her with all of my heart-I just know that I can't be with her.

I used to think that I had an awful childhood because I didn't get a motorcycle at 14 and I didn't get a car at 16. Then I met my wife and she began to detail the things she went through as a child and all of a sudden my childhood looked Cosby-esque. I thought that after all we'd been through, it would be easy to walk away from all of this but I'm discovering that it won't be so easy. I have a habit of putting myself into the mind of other people, and I can feel their pain. It's like I have the ability to understand their experiences. There have been times when I've put myself in my wife's place and imagined the emotional trauma that comes along with the pain she's experienced and I've had to jolt myself out of it because the emotions have been too intense. We've survived almost 6 years on empathy alone-but it's become too much for me to handle because it only flows one way.

This morning I told her that she was selfish. But I don't think that's what's wrong with her. Empathy is a learned ability and it usually starts when someone shows concern for your well-being. Sadly, her mother and father were only 15 when she was born and according to my wife, she believes that her mother was being molested by her own father (my wife's grandfather). She even believes that her sister might also be her aunt (fathered by her grandfather). Sometimes I have to tell her not to tell me these things. She needs help from a professional, not from somone that visibly responds to the horror she details. That's why psychiatrist are heavily cautioned against getting involved with their patients. Once you become their love interest, you can no longer be of help to them. I'm not even a psychiatrist so I don't know why I thought I could help her. All I've done is punished her all of these years by showing her how wrong she is about everything. My poor wife-I love her dearly.

I hope that she gets help. It will take years of therapy before she can even begin to understand how upside down she's been living all of these years. It reminds me of Richard Gere in Pretty Woman when he said "I was very angry with him. Do you know how many years of therapy it took for me to be able to say that? I was very "angry" with him.". It'll be a while before she can understand anything I've tried to tell her.

I'll always love her.

RCP

Double Negatives

Double Negatives

My baby speaks in double negatives
“He don’t want me no more”
And she’s right, I don’t want her no more
I love everything about her but the problem is
She don’t really love herself

I don’t want her no more
I want her to be the mother of my children
Okay, at least one of them
I want to grow old with her, to take care of her when she’s sick
And cook for her when she’s hungry

I want to take her on long drawn-out vacations
Where we lie around the pool all day and dance ‘til the sun comes up
The only problem is, she thinks I don’t want her no more
And she’s right, I don’t want her no more

I want to shower her with gifts, even when it isn’t her birthday or Christmas
I want to make love to her so passionately
That our souls become one and our bodies meld into
One big knot of sex and sweat and flesh
Making it completely impossible to tell where she ends and where I begin

I want to marry her, make her my wife
Make her the center of my universe
Give her my life
I want her to wear my name with the pride of a street cop
On the first day he gets his detective’s badge

But she thinks I don’t want her no more
This world has so confused us that
We no longer know when we speak the truth
She thinks I don’t want her no more
And you know what? She’s right,
I don’t want her no more
And I love her

Dear Diary.....

That sounds so unmale. Anyway....
Dear Diary,
This morning I met my abs for the 1st time. Actually I've seen glimpses of them-like one might catch a glimpse of a fawn in the early morning as it darts past your garden window. After months and months of intensive work outs, I'm finally starting to see those illusive 6-pack abs. I have to be honest when I say that I never thought it would be possible. What kept me going? Well, my mentor started 5 years ago and now he has the body of a fucking god. And as he's always told me-you have to see to be. I've always been the type who thinks that if someone I know can do it, so can I. Now of course this theory has its limitations. I know people who can slam dunk a basketball on a standard 10' rim. I can't do that (now, but one point in my younger years I came really close).

I haven't said much about my marriage but I'm in the process of moving out. My soon-to-be ex wife and I had a conversation this morning about an incident that occurred a couple of years ago between a friend of hers and I. To put it bluntly, the girl and I had sex several times. When I mentioned to my wife that when she found out I just took my punishment, she asked "What punishment. I didn't get mad-you'd already expressed an interest in fucking her." I know this might sound crazy to those who read it but my I discovered that my wife cheated on me less than 1 month after our wedding day. I told her that if she wanted to stay she could, but she would have to accept the fact that I would never be monogamous again. I had a right to fuck whomever I choose. She accepted it.

"So if she accepted it, what's with the punishment?" you may ask, as she did. I explained to her that relationships are like a pure and clean glass of water. The moment something falls into that glass of water, we consider it tainted and most likely won't drink it. I knew that, no matter how many times my wife told me that she didn't get mad, I knew it affected our relationship. The water, although previously polluted, had been tainted even further.

I gotta get ready for work.

The Prince of Know Where?

She Rides!!!

Memorial Day will be a day to remember. I went to visit my 5 year old out in the I.E. As usual, we make a day of fun out my visits. We usually play catch, dodge ball, or I'll play fight with her and allow her to get the best of dear old dad. We sometimes cap the day off with a trip to the park where she climbs on all of the equipment and makes me watch every trip down the slide. We chase the ice cream truck and I buy her favorite flavor. At the end, it's always difficult to leave. She never cries but she always begs me to stay longer. Most often I oblige.

This trip, however, was a little different. We were playing catch in the back yard and I noticed her bicycle with training wheels sitting off in a corner. "Go bring daddy a wrench." I asked her. She later returned with the appropriate tool and I commenced to removing the training wheels.
"It's time you learn to ride without there." I told her.
"But I like my training wheels." she replied with a detectable amount of fear in her voice.
"Don't worry, you won't need them." I assured her.
After removing the wheels we went out into the street and I gave her a few instructions and off we went with me holding her up as she struggled to maintain her balance.
"Turn your wheel in the direction that you feel that you are leaning and you'll upright yourself." I told her and she obeyed. After a couple of trips up and down the street I decided to let her go and she rode a good 10 feet before putting her feet on the ground.
"I was riding by myself!" she exclaimed with excitement.
"Yes, you were." I said proudly.
We we repeated this process several times and each time she increased her riding distance. Before long she only needed me to help her get started. She negotiated her first turn with difficulty, but she managed to turn around. For a while I ran next to her, but eventually just let her ride alone with me shouting instructions.
"A car is coming, turn into a driveway. Don't panic, just turn into a driveway." At first she would panic, but she began talking to herself, "Don't panic-turn into a driveway when you see a car."
Needless to say I was so proud at how she incorporated the instructions into her riding. Eventually she got to the point where she would just ride close to the curb and allow the car to pass.

Finally she let me know that she was tired and wanted to rest. We went into the backyard again and now she wanted me to continue showing her how to hit the beachball volleyball style so that she could control the direction it went. At the end of the day, she recapped all that she had learned.
"Today, you taught me how to ride my bike, hit the beach ball and kick the soccer ball."
"Yes princess, and you did all of them well." I said giving her a huge Daddy-style hug.
My daughter is the most precious person in the world to me. Watching her grow and learn and reason is more than I could ever ask for. I look forward to all of the things I will teach her in the future. Swimming, skiing, shooting a basketball, target practice with a firearm (something I taught my son at 15), and anything else I can think of. I want her to be the most well-rounded person and I know that it's up to me to make sure that happens.

What a joy she's been to me.

The Prince

For Whom The Bell Tolls

I'm in a quandary over so many things these days, but one thing's for certain-my marriage is pretty much done. It sort of feels like when that terminally ill relative who has been hanging on for years finally passes; for obvious reasons you can't bring yourself to feel sad-yet you feel that you should. Last night my (soon to be ex) wife and I got into a bitter, brutal battle. She's once again gone through my personal belongings and discovered I had lunch with another woman. After I've told her on many occasions that I've declared myself free to date whomever I choose. She still insists on this type of behavior.

The mere fact that she discovered this information the very same day it occurred leads to only one conclusion-she's been snooping through my phone on a daily basis-looking for something. I've on several occasions found the complete contents of my cell phone copied either in her phone or on some tablet in her possession. The reasoning behind this I don't know but I know it can't be good. She'd done this once before to get names of people she invited to a surprise birthday party at Acapulco's restaurant. Nothing I do discourages this type of behavior. I know she's been doing it for a while, even after I told her that who I decide to fuck is my business.

I refuse to lock my phone, I don't believe I should have to. Not to mention the fact that I don't have anything to hide. But I know the moment she decides to call and can't get a hold of me, she's going to call the girl I had lunch with. This existence is so pathetic-and so is she. She's done everything in her power to ruin our marriage-infidelity, lying, complete and utter financial irresponsibility. I had no idea human beings could be so awful and still be allowed to be a part of our society. If this was a Native-American society, she would be banished from the tribe for her behavior. But then again, she wouldn't be as awful a person because she would have been treated in a kind way as a child.

I'm not quite sure how this chapter will end but one thing is for certain, it will end.

Homosexuality and the Black Community

I think we might have all drank the Kool-Aid. I was talking to my brother-in-law yesterday regarding being propositioned by gay men and how I was weirded out by an overly-aggressive male once in the '90's. He shared with me an experience he had that wasn't a homosexual one, but was as equally weird to him. He attended school in Kenya for a year in the 90's and had many Kenyan friends. Part of the Kenyan culture is for males to hold hands and one of his Kenyan friends grabbed his hand while walking down the street one day. This was actually an honorable gesture-it basically demonstrates respect and admiration and to refuse would be to insult the one initiating the gesture. This gesture, however, is in no way homosexual. My brother-in-law went on to say that homosexuality does not exist in the Kenyan culture-he said that it has to be imported.

This conversation puts me one step closer to accepting my theory about how homosexuality found it's way amongst African-Americans. I've long believed that slave masters not only raped slave women and children, but slave men as well. Of course no one will ever speak about it publicly (much less admit it if confronted with the subject), but I am pretty close to accepting this theory as fact. Given the nature of those who were in power and how they justified some of their actions, it isn't too far-fetched a theory. Not to mention the fact that slave masters had complete autonomy over their slaves. And if we are to believe noted British historian Lord Acton, a person’s sense of morality lessens as his or her power increases. He coined the phrase Power tends to corrupt. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. With the ability to do whatever you want to people, there's no telling what one might do.

We've but to look back throughout recent history if we need proof to substantiate this belief. In fact Abu Grahib is a perfect example. I couldn't for the life of me understand why it was necessary to stack naked, imprisoned men on top of one another. Some men were forced to put their faces in other men's pubic regions. Why? Isn't the fact that they are imprisoned against their will enough? And if torturing them or at least making them uncomfortable was necessary, why homosexual acts. I've heard the arguments from pundits who say that it's unacceptable in their culture therefore it was done because they didn't like it. Okay, I understand that, but wasn't their other things you could have done to cause them discomfort like having them sleep on a hard surface or limiting their exposure to the great outdoors. I know that would be enough to cause me discomfort.

I believe that this was an opportunity for those in charge to live out their own fantasies-to display the sickness that exists in their own minds. It's no different than what happens in prison throughout this country. If homosexuality is a sin, then why isn't every famous televangelist protesting the existence of prisons? Homosexual acts are almost encouraged in prison. The guards allow it to take place. Why do we allow institutions such as these to exist in our culture? In more civilized European societies, (those with fewer foreigners), their exists prison whereby inmates' wives can visit (long-term). And prison rapes are almost nonexistent. Prisons and Catholic churches seem to be the two institutions where there exists a tacit acceptance of homosexual behavior.

I can't say for certain that homosexuality was introduced to native Africans by Europeans. But one thing I can most certainly say is Rome-and I don't think I need to say too much else. Anyone who doesn't know how homosexuality and child molestation was condoned by Romans (and they have the nerve to call it Roman Civilization) is simply living in a opaque, soundproof bubble. The seat of the Catholic church, The Vatican City, sits right smack dab in the middle of Rome. And the I don't think their is a corner of the planet that doesn't have a Catholic outpost in the neighborhood.

I don't know if I'll ever fully know the truth, but one thing's for certain-the nonexistence of homosexuality in Kenya speaks volumes about where such an unnatural act of congruence might have originated.

Porno for Normos

I'm often amazed at how so much attention is focused on television content in this country. We are so afraid that our children will be negatively influenced by images that fly across the screen. Although I am in total agreement that there is probably too much risque behavior on television, I also think it's more how we view it than anything else. Often the way you look at things really has more profound affect than the thing itself. Take for instance Kirk Franklin. Kirky boy admitted on national television, on OPRAH of all places, that he was addicted to porn. I listened to his story intently because I too am a fan of porn, (notice I didn't say addicted). Kirk struggled because instead of accepting his affinity for naked images of (I hope) women, he allowed himself to be divided. There is no doubt that the naked image of a woman, and even more so of a woman engaging in sexual activity, will have an affect on you if you are a healthy heterosexual male. The problem comes when someone has told you that there is something sinfully wrong about that chemical reaction. Eventually, you become at odds with yourself and you struggle with wanting to indulge, but feeling weak and like a failure.

I remember the first time I discovered porn, and then later masturbation. At the tender age of 12, I immediately declared both ok in my book. I vowed not to let anything or anyone come between my own self gratification. Tell me I would go blind, tell me that the palms of my hands would become hairy, I didn't care-I'd just be a hairy-palmed blind man. In my book, I don't have an addiction to porn. Yes I view it daily, but does that mean I'm addicted? I dare so no. I like it, I view it, there. Let's move on.

Kirk regaled us with tales of driving 40 miles in the middle of the night to throw a porno magazine in a dumpster-driving back home, only to get in his car and drive back to the scene of the dumping to retrieve said magazine. In my most humble opinion, he's not addicted-he's nuts! First of all, if I threw a magazine away, it wouldn't be 40 miles away. Second, if I threw it away, I wouldn't have a problem parting with it. Kirk's problem is he hasn't accepted his (probably excessive, but in no way addictive) desire for porn. Nature takes it's course and some idiomatic religious dogma planted in your head long before you were able to defend yourself kicks in and starts telling you that you're a failure. Telling you that what you're feeling is wrong and that you should stop feelilng that way. There only three people types of males that are not affected by images of naked women: homosexual men, infant males, and old senile males. Any other heterosexual male that see an image of a naked woman and says that they aren't the least bit aroused are liars. Be them priests, rabbis, reverends, or popes-the power of the naked woman's affect on a man cannot be denied.

Is Kirk addicted? No-Kirk Franklin's conflicted. There's a major difference. If it wasn't so forbidden, he wouldn't have the urge to get rid of it. If he could satiate his appetite without guilt, those urges would be less intense. If he could sit in his house, on his couch, with his feet on his coffee table, and look at a porno mag or watch an adult dvd, without having his wife or his peers deem him a sinner, those urges would subside. But the shroud of secrecy-the fear of being caught adds to heightened arousal. The sweaty palms, the rapidly beating heart, the shortness of breath, associated with the provacative images, intensifies the experience. Take away the secrecy and the fear of being caught and I guarantee he'll bore of it. And if he doesn't, so what-let him gawk. Who's he harming? I'm so damn sick of hearing that ridiculous argument that porn exploits women. Oh really? How? If I look at a naked picture of (God forbid) Paris Hilton, does she know I'm looking? How is she affected because I'm looking? Does she get an irritating rash on the parts that I'm looking at just because I'm looking? No. She's probably sitting in her Bentley not even caring that I'm looking at her hideously ugly vagina on the internet (and yes I've seen it).

We continually want to blame the looker and not the poser. How am I exploiting her if she voluntarily posed? But it's the feminist ideological Evil Man who is responsible for EVERYTHING that has happened to women. We are blamed because nature made us attracted to women.

And finally, why is the naked image acceptable if it is considered art? That shit is porno to me. Or porno is art. One or the other. But to me, the line separating the two is so permeable, it exists without my detection.

RCP

Bored To Tears

There isn't much going on at work today. I've made all of my calls to my clients and it's only 9:23 a.m. and I have to be here 'til 5pm. My boss is in China and, although I have a few things to do, if I do them now, I'll really be bored and won't have anything to do for the rest of the day.

I'm listening to KPFK but in 30 minutes they play international music. Although I'm a music lover, banging tambourines from Sri Lanka isn't exactly my idea of listening pleasure. No offense to anyone from Sri Lanka-I love the way you put S before the R without the supportive E vowel. It just rolls off the tongue in a sexy way. Sri.

You know I'm bored when I'm writing complete paragraphs about the word Sri. I would like to add a quote that I thought of the other morning. I don't know if I read it somewhere or not but I believe it's original. Read below:

EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO SPEAK IS AN OPPORTUNITY TO TEACH. EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO LISTEN IS AN OPPORTUNITY TO LEARN.

Again, like I said, there's a possibility I read that somewhere a long time ago, and it's now, like the husk of popcorn wedged between ones tooth and gum, has worked it's way up to my consciousness.

I think it's a rather profound quote. I think that so many of our conversations are just useless babble. I think people are uncomfortable speaking about topics that they aren't well versed in. And when the intellects amongst us begin to speak, we shy away. Most of my conversations are laced with some manner of teaching. I believe it's simply sharing information-but isn't that the same as teaching? It doesn't matter if the information is accurate-the sharing of information is a form of teaching. I will take it a step further and say that one should teach righteously and accurately, but the basics of teaching are neutral. One can learn positive behaviors just as easily a they can learn negative or damaging behaviors. That is why it is extremely critical to this government that they mandate what is taught in public schools. We learn watered down history because if you truly knew how this country was formed, you wouldn't feel so good about yourself. I'm rambling.

Anyway, I'm going back to work.

RCP

Virginia Apologizes for Slavery

WHOOHOOO!!! Pass the peas, Virginia decided to officially apologize for her role in slavery, after one of it's delegates publically stated that African-Americans should get over slavery. I think it would have had a more sincere meaning if A). it wouldn't have come after the politically incorrect and insensitive remarks made by 80 year old Delegate Frank Hargrove and B). there was a financial disposition attached to it. Oh yeah, and they threw in a shot out to the Native Americans too (since they were in such an apologetic mood, I guess they decided to kill two birds).

Frankly, no pun intended, I couldn't give a rats ass about an apology. I lump it in the category with all those treaties with Native Americans that you didn't mean either. More importantly, to me at least, is that you recognize the unfair economic advantage that white Americans experienced during those times and fairly compensate the African-American nation that resides within the borders of the USA. Am I talking reparations? No, I'm talking Just Compensation. Share the wealth. The price that the continent of Africa suffered, and her people who were brought here and severed from all that they knew; beaten, brutalized, and murdered unmercifully, deserves more than a mia culpa apology from one tiny state in the union.

Do I think Just Compensation will ever happen? No. Power and money usually isn't ceded without a firm and steady twisting of the arm of sorts. And America knows that African-Americans aren't in the mental position to do any long-termed mental arm twisting. We may shout, jump up and down, and march around carrying signs and singing "We shall overcome," but we aren't going to voluntarily do anything that takes us out of our comfort zone. She knows that if the Bloods and the Crips ever stopped killing each long enough to see that historically, the federal government has always had it out for them, she might have a larger problem on her hands than she thought possible. Those guys are seasoned killers, and they almost pulled it off after the Rodney King beating, but weak minds are easily distracted and it wasn't long before they were back murdering one another in the streets of Los Angeles.

It was once believed that America's greatest fear was the Black man. Even I thought that to be the case. I was always reminded of that when I walked down the street and witnessed white women clutching their purses tighter or lock their car doors when I walked by. But then I realized that America doesn't fear the Black man. She doesn't fear the physically imposing and strong Black males you see during professional football games either. It wasn't until I began going back to the gym on a regular basis and commiting myself to physical strength conditioning that I began realizing what she really feared: A Black man whose mind and body are equally strong. Not only does he possess the physical ability to destroy you, he has the mental capacity to out manuever you as well. That is why the image of the Black male lacking scholastical aptitude is extremely important to perpetuate, and early on in his developmental stages. I can remember having the ability to read and write at a very young age-well before I attended school. But by the 4th grade, I was somehow put in a remedial reading class. By the time I reached high school, I was failing classes and barely attending classes at all. Eventually, I dropped out, took my G.E.D. and joined the USAF. I remember scoring extremely high on the G.E.D. and the lady administering the test asking me why I wasn't finishing school. It was obvious I had the knowledge. I filed that conversation away in the back of my mind because it was to become extremely useful as I dealt with the stigma of failing high school. I would always remember the words of that woman. Those words I carried with me when, for the first time in my life, I walked across a stage an accepted a diploma-my Bachelor of Science degree in Business Management.

As long as Black women continue to, unknowingly, continue the cycle of Willie Lynch and retard the mental abilities of Black men, America knows she has nothing to fear. She will never have to worry about a collective race of people standing together and demanding more than just a token apology; demanding an equal place at the table of the civilized. As long as we've got MTV, BET, and a populace whose measured collective average intelligence rises no higher than G.E.D., she won't be cutting checks anytime soon.

RCP

Bastards of the Party

This is a must see for anyone who is remotely linked to the Los Angeles and it's gang problem. Cle "Bone" Sloan in his freshman production manages to capture the history of African-American's and their strained relationship with the city of Los Angeles and the federal government. He provides a rich backdrop that lays a foundation of gang relations not only with the community, but with political parties and even the F.B.I. and specifically J. Edgar Hoover and the infamous Counter Intelligence Program used to dismantle the Black Panther Party, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King jr.

Bastards poses many questions but attempts to answer none. It highlights the depth at which the gang problem exists in Los Angeles. Those who think that a simple cease fire or truce will lessen the tensions between the government manufactured enemies delude themselves. Sloan was able to reveal a deep-seated hatred between the red and blue factions that won't be easily appeased. Even when a loosely arranged truce was arranged, gang members themselves testify to LAPD involvement in keeping tensions between the two groups high. One gang member said that police officers confiscated his car, drove it to a rival gang neighborhood and conducted a drive-by-then returned his car to him.

Gang members still fear that any truce will not be upheld by rival members still grieving over fallen comrades. Listening to the testimony of member after member, its easy to see that the problem is far more complex than what meets the eye. I've contemplated how the problem could be solved and the only solution two solutions I arrived at were to either scatter all members across the United States to locations where tensions do not exist (which is virtually impossible), or if a common enemy similar to the one that appeared during the uprising in 1992 after the Rodney King injustice. Rivalrys were laid aside long enough to vent frustrations with the justice system that have been long standing.

I would like to see my brothers in Los Angeles put their weaponry aside long enough to join hands and rebuild their community. I would like them to recognize that, like all other people, we do have a common interest-it's called survival and it is so much sweeter when communities and together and tackle the problem as one.

The Prince

The L Word

I like the "L" word. I watch it religiously every season and I love the characters. The show is well written and, although it has nothing to do with heterosexual males, I feel priveleged to be able to look in on a world that absolutely loathes me. Perhaps it something I'm used to. Being an African-American in a world that views me as the lowest thing on the planet perhaps has prepared me for being on the outside-never ever fully being accepted. I don't feel a part of anything in this world. My family doesn't fully understand me-but they tolerate me. I don't feel close to anyone anymore. But for one day of the week, I bask in the reverly lesbians enjoying a world without men.

I don't blame them-men have been pretty awful to women throughout history. I'm watching Marle Matlin and Jennifer Beals get high and I miss it (getting high that is). When I got high every night of the week, I enjoyed losing myself and not worrying as much about things as I do when I'm sober. I haven't smoked in so long and I know that it's best for me that I don't. I can't focus when I do. I try to remember things but give up because I just don't give a fuck. But I digress-I just wish that I could find that which I'm looking for. Some enclave that understands my sufferage. Perhaps I'll die without ever finding it.

It's funny to watch the women of the L word acting just like men. It's weird. They've condemned us for behaving this way for decades, and when finally they discover autonomy, they emulate us. This world is crazy and I don't feel comfortable in it. I don't know if I ever did. I always thought that there was this place that I would end up where things would be the way that I envisioned them. But I've yet to find that place and at the age of 43, I don't think I'll ever find it. I don't know what it will take for women to discover men again, but I figure by the time it happens, I'll be too old to care.

Any N*gger Will Do (Sometimes)

I was on my way home for lunch today and I passed the parking lot in my neighborhood where the LA county sheriffs deputies hemmed me up one summer evening last year. I was on my way to the grocery store and a cruiser pulled up behind me and hit me with the lights. I was walking but it didn't really make a difference, he decided to make an event of the whole matter. It turns out that someone was robbed at the local 7-11, (those damned havens for crime), and I (you guessed it) fit the description.

The deputy told me that a black male wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans robbed someone at the local 7-11 and since I was wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans and was black, I'd do (he didn't actually say I'd do but he might as well have). I explained that I had just left my building across the street and was on my way to the grocery store. It didn't matter, I needed to be searched-to which I obliged. And after it was determined that I wasn't carrying any weapons, I was told I needed to take a seat in the back of his cruiser....for the safety of the officer. At this point my cooperation ended. I told the deputy that I wasn't getting in the back of his cruiser unless he arrested me. Until such time, I was going to excercise my right as a citizen to stand in the parking lot while he conducted his investigation. He became beligerent and asked if I wanted him to call for back up. I told him he could call whomever he wanted, I wasn't getting in the back of his cruiser-I know my rights. "You have the right to detain me without arrest, but not confine me. Putting me in the back of that cruiser where I couldn't walk away if I wanted constituted confinement and I wasn't complying UNLESS I was under arrest. Deputy dumb-ass then radioed in and in a flash a second cruiser came flying into the parking lot Starsky & Hutch style. The cruiser came to a screeching halt and out jumped a dumpy female Mexican-American deputy. She exited her vehicle, and without knowing the lay of the land, began yelling at me. I let her finish and told her "First of all deputy, you don't speak to me like that. You are a public servant, you are here to serve me. My taxpayer dollar pays your salary, so I suggest you speak to me with respect-you work for me. Deputy Dumpy got the message and didn't say anything else for the rest of the time I was being detained.

A minute or so later, a field supervisor arrived and Deputy Dumb-ass blurted out, "He tried to play the race card!" I retorted, "It was you that said black male suspect, I said nothing about color." The supervisor began to explain what I already knew-they needed to get on with their investigation and I told them that it was ok to proceed. I then asked if I could call my wife to explain to her why it was taking me so long to return home, Super-Deputy told me, "Uh, no. You might alert the other bad guys." I told him that he watched too much TV.

First of all wasn't there only one black male in blue jeans and a white t-shirt? Who were the other bad guys (go ahead and insert the word black between bad and guys). The impression I got was that all of you negroes are no good, so anyone you call has to be a part of this ridiculous caper.

Moments later another cruiser pulled up and they shined an extremely bright spotlight in my face and had me do the perp turns like I was in a line-up. It was at that moment that I realized that if this "victim" was one of those all black guys look alike types, I was in big fucking trouble. As I turned from profile, to frontal view, to profile, I felt completely powerless. Sure I had managed to remain free from the confines of the cruiser for 15 or so minutes, but this faceless person held the fate of my future in their hands.

Finally a call came over the radios in stereo, "It's not him." Super-Deputy told me that I was free to leave." Without so much as an apology or an explanation. I gathered my personal belongings that remained on the hood of the cruiser and glanced around at the crowd that had loosely assembled across the street. Their presence was bitter-sweet: had they not been there, there's no telling what the 3 Stooges might have done to me for disobeying their unlawful order. But on the other hand I felt extremely embarassed as I walked away. For a moment I wanted to cry, I was so fucking angry, but I resisted the urge and just kept reminding myself that they were just doing their job. I put myself in the place of the victim and hoped that if ever I was robbed, attacked, or assaulted, that law enforcement would be equally as zealous in their attempt to find my assailant.

I didn't know if the victim was black, white, or Mexican but what I do know is that in the area in which I reside their are very few black people. This area is predominately Hispanic and the event got me to thinking. I love The Sopranos and I used to get a little chuckle at how they used to blame every crime they did on a Moolie. Like when Jackie Jr. was murdered by Tony Soprano's crew. The word that got back to the women of the clan was that a cracked-out black guy did it. I don't laugh at that shit anymore. I fail to see the humor in any of it. Too many black males have been falsely accused, incarcerated, and worse yet, murdered for these insensitive, irresponsible, and downright evil false accusations. And at any given moment any one of us could be one. From Charles Stewart, to Susan Smith, to the white trash women that accused poor black fictional character in To Kill A Mockingbird of rape-American history is littered with this shit and, quite frankly, I don't think the justice system punishes these false accusers enough. First of all, it should be considered a racial hate crime of the highest degree and should carry a minimum sentence of 5 years with no eligibility of parole. 5 straight baby. That should discourage these accusations of convenience.

I've beat this one to death.

Yesterday, I Said Goodbye

Sometimes it takes certain situations to wake you to what has been occurring in your life without your knowledge and yesterday I had one such situation. I spend every Sunday with my youngest daughter at her mom's house. From time to time the three of us will do something together-mainly for my daughter. Last Sunday we went to see a movie together and I have to admit that I really enjoyed all of us being together. When I called her yesterday to thank her for the movie, she made a comment that disturbed me. She told me, out of the blue, that she wasn't messing with me while I'm still married. First of all I didn't think that I was attempting to have her mess with me, but let's say that I was. She just recently ended a relationship with a man that was obviously married. Not only did this man spend many of nights with her (in front of my child), he practically embarassed the hell out of her oldest daughter when his oldest daughter found out about the affair. Former high school classmates of her oldest daughter often saw the man at my ex's house, put two and two together and rumors began to fly. It was a source of embarassment for her daughter.

Now I don't knock anyone for having morals but at least be consistent. I learned yesterday that this woman is selfish now, and will always be selfish and that I really have to say goodbye to this person. That is not to say that we can't be cordial and talk, because we are the parents of a very beautiful child. But she is clearly mental and I am glad that I recognized this. I'll admit that the thought of us raising our daughter together has been in the back of my mind. I want nothing more than to see my daughter happy, but this woman is so selfish, I don't think I would ever trust her. After years of sacrifice with her-helping her raise her two daughters while her ex-husband was incarcerated (and he has thanked me on numerous occasions. He wasn't in prison because he was a bad person, he was in prison because he was raised by an awful mother, and she never gave her son the guidance necessary for him to become a productive member of society. He is doing much better now).

I reflected on all of her past and present decisions and I can see how every decision she has made is to benefit her own agenda-and she doesn't care who she hurts in the process. And for her to give me some sort of unsolicited ultimatum, I truly have to keep my distance. I can no longer spend numerous hours at her house visiting my daughter. I don't think it's wise that we all do things together. I'll have to now carefully plan my Sundays so that the day is filled with enough activities to allow us to spend time together without my being at her residence. It's sad, but I had to say goodbye to an old dream that I can no longer afford to keep alive.

RCP

Older Men

I guess I'm what one would consider an older man now. I'm 43, I'm married to a woman 16 years my junior and I am normally physically attracted to younger women-I still look like I'm in my late 20's, early 30's and often find that women in their 30's look older than me. I once met a 35 year old woman at a concert. We exchanged numbers and, at a later date met for coffee. When she asked my age I told her and was forced to show ID because she didn't believe me. I admit she looked older than me, but I now assume that if a woman looks about my age, she's probably about 5-10 years younger. She told me that she was prepared to teach this young boy right out of college a thing or two. After I proved I was older than her, she kept looking at me like I was that Wayans brother in Little Man.

Last Friday I met a young lady about 25. She too assumed I was around her age. She's asked me 3 times since meeting me how old I am. I don't know if it's disbelief or if this woman has been hit in the head too many times and has lost her short-termed memory. I have to admit that it is a very awkward situation, but I'm not quite sure what to do. I'm not physically attracted to women who haven't aged well and I'm not mentally attracted to younger girls. My life has always been faced with these types of dilemmas.

Nowadays if you're a man my age and you pursue anyone south of 35 you're considered a dirty old man-UNLESS you've got Trump money-and then women don't want to judge you because one day they might just want to hook up with a rich older guy one-no sense in preempting those options. But if you make below $1 million a year, well you're a cradle robber. Never once do you hear anything about Russell Simmons and his child bride, Donald Trump and his baby (literally), Tom Cruise and his pre-teenie princess. Hell if you're a rich man, you can even marry your adopted daughter when she becomes of age (Woody Allen anyone). With that kind of money, age is a number alright, but it's measured in millions. You never hear women complain about these pairings because, hell, just about any 20-something woman would gladly jump at the chance to hook up with The Don (Trump that is). And why is it that no one EVER made a peep about 27 year old Ashton hooking up with 42 year old Demi? Because when a woman is in the dawn of her younger years she wants to reserve the right to reach back and grab herself a boy toy if she feels the urge to do so. But let man of meager earnings attempt the same thing and he's labelled all sorts of perverted things.

We guys just sit back and take all of this crap from women. In a previous post, I tackled the issue of who is more honest, men or women. One example I gave was how Anna Nicole hooked up with J. Howard and how rare it is you find a man who would hook up with an octogenarian in a wheelchair and diapers for financial gain. I'm not saying that it couldn't happen, but it's easier for a woman to pull off because the great likelihood is Old J. Howard couldn't get it up anyway. But a woman has an opening that is accessible no matter what her age is-so if she's holding the purse strings, you just might have to stick in if you want that brand-new, fire-engine red Ferrarri at the dealership. The thought is repulsive.

I'm at one of those weird places in life that I never considered: I'm on the brink of divorce and the women that I'm physically attracted to have the minds of mush, and the women I am mentally attracted to look like mush-old, wrinkled, mush. And those fading features are a lot easier to stomach when A. you were there when they were in their prime, and B. you had the pleasure (or pain) of watching them fade over the years. But when you're hit with that shit all at once, it's worse than the sticker shock on that brand-new, fire-engine red Ferrarri.

I guess I'll work my way through it, whatever the outcome. The thought of dating at this age is daunting. Who wants to go through that getting to know you stage? I remember the excitement of Friday night and the opportunity to go and meet new chicks, but now I am at the age where, if I don't know you already, I'm not really accepting new applications. And isn't it true that all the good women are all taken at this age? What's left are those women who thought they were too hot to hook up and now find that the their alluring features are beginning to give way to gravity and it won't be long before catching a cold ass naked outdoors in the middle of flu season proves difficult. Or worse yet, those women who could never truly hook up in the first place. Now those you really need to watch out for, because they have a habit of finding a guy and holding him responsible for all of the rejection they experienced in their pasts. Not to mention the fact that they probably blew a lot of dicks in their days just to feel a physical connection. Sometimes I think I think too much.

Whatever happens, I guess at some point I won't give a fuck anymore-and even that frightens me.


The Prince of Know Where?

Sometimes We Disappoint Me

I was visiting a couple of friends today and we were working on tracks. One of my friends, I'll call him Matt (because that's his fucking name), began to describe for me how he wanted his project to sound, and I thought that it was the most ridiculous things to be discussing. First of all he put an established artist's music on and said he wanted tracks like those. I thought to myself (but didn't say it aloud), "Then go have whoever did his tracks do yours. Huh? What was that? You're broke? Ok then just take these."

The point that I tried to make to him was that first of all, music doesn't necessary work that way. You can interfere with creative process by trying to write like someone else. Music has it's rules, but as long as you adhere to them and know when to break them, anything is possible. But non-musicians don't understand that. They don't understand that sometimes tracks actually write themselves. Most of the time something happens that surprises me. I don't have a clue how I ended up where I did, but it sounds tight.

My other point simply was that the music business is a BUSINESS. And it doesn't matter to me if I work with a one-legged Ukrainian playing a Ukelele or him, as long as I am making money, I couldn't care less. No matter what you're doing, you should be trying to make a buck at it. We too damned broke as a people to not focus on that. But he said, and this was when the permanent separation occurred, "I don't care if I make money off of it.....I just want to complete my own project." (Pregnant pause....let that marinate for a minute). I won't bore you with the rest of the conversation, but suffice it to say that he talked about how hard he was going to work to stay broke-how much effort he was going to put into being someones human resource. The logic of being financially independent I couldn't get him to wrap his brain around. Now let me tell you how the conversation ended, he picked up his cell phone as I was talking and dialed a number, and then began talking nonsense about girls with whoever was on the line. And we wonder why the black woman, the white woman, the white man, the Asian man, the Hispanic man and woman don't respect us.

I work with a 6' 3" Asian man who is wealthy and has introduced me to more multi-millionaires than I've seen on TV. They stop by our office from time to time to visit him. I met a nondescript Asian gentleman who was worth $50 million easy. Some of these men were self-made, others inherited money. My boss, the 6' Asian guy, is wealthy in his own right. He spends every moment at work trying to increase the bottom line. He has taught me that resources are limited. Sure we can all say that we understand what that means, but in reality do we? When you're at work and you stop to talk on the phone to a friend that calls to see how you're doing, do you realize that you are wasting company money? They pay you to work while you're there. Most of my friends know not to call me at work. They are simply interferring with my ability to put food on my table. Unless it's business, I don't want to really waste my time talking about the Patriot's game. All of the Patriots are wealthy. And I don't need to fuck off my earning time to talk about rich people. I'm trying to get there myself, and unless I'm getting compensated for talking about whether or not Jay-z really retired or not, call me after work hours-and even then be cautious because I parlay that time too.

I know that sounds harsh, but if you do the math, perhaps you'll agree with me. Let's take a look:

•There are 24 hours in a day
•9 of those hours belong to your employer (10 if you have a 1 hour commute)
•8 hours (if you're lucky) are spent rejuvenating your body or sleeping)
•The other 6-8 hours are usually used to take care of responsibilities.
Time is infinite but our lives are finite-waste a day and it won't be added to the end of your life.

Most people get about an hour or two a day to themselves. So why would you waste the time you should be using to earn enough capital to buy the rest of your life back chatting with idiots? Now if you're working a job that can't get you enough money to take the rest of your life off, you'd better be doing that shit in your own time. Otherwise you'll be slaving for someone else for the rest of your life. And this is what my friend was telling me his goal was. "You see, I have second interview with Crate & Barrell and I'm going to parlay that into.....". Don't get me wrong, I love Matt. Matt is my brother-I consider him my family. But I wasted so much time with Matt in the 90's writing tracks, producing tracks, staying up late at night recording him and having to get up early the next morning and commute an hour and 10 minutes to work. If I knew that you were doing this for self-agrandizement, I would have used that time for either my own projects or to get a few extra hours of sleep or to spend time with members of my family.

Matt's wasted enough of my time-and enough of his own, but if that's what he wants to do, it doesn't mean I have to join the circle-jerk.

Heaven Help Us.

The Prince

Even In Death Lay Wins

First and for most, let me say that I don't believe that Ken Lay is any deader than...I don't know, any of you who might read this blog entry. But I heard some of the most shocking news today on KPFK, (yeah, I listen to that left-wing, listener supported rhetoric). It appears that since Ken Lay died of an apparent heart attack, his estate won't be touched in spite of his criminal activity. All the money he stole from the state of California; all the money he stole from companies that Enron bought and cannibalized; all the retirement funds he and his hoods looted will remain within his family's possession. What kind of country is this? It isn't one at all-it is a modern day pirate's cove whereby the populous are fooled into worshipping the pirates that rob and exploit them daily.

Any gain that is realized from criminal activity is to be forfeited-that's the law. But, in my opinion, not only did they fake K. Lay's death, they've now made it possible for him to keep all the booty. You have to ask yourself, how can they look themselves in the mirror? What types of human beings are these (that's if they're human at all). I am so sad that I had 4 children. This world is not the type of place I would want my children to be raised. To know that I can't even protect them from the harm that may come their way angers me. I know that there are other places much worse, but most of those places are in the condition that they are in because of what this country is responsible for.

When I heard about K. Lay keeping the riches he so blatantly stole from common folk who busted their asses for 20-30 years-scratching and saving for their retirement, I was extremely saddened. Can you imagine, getting up everyday, going to work, saving and watching your nest egg grow-and then comes along these thugs in Brooks Brother suits, wearing smiles and expensive ties. They promise you the heaven and deliver you hell. Every quarter you've received a report on how your money's growing. You know that there's only about 2 years left and you'll be able to buy that lake house and fish for trout all day every day. And one day there's an announcement that you're being bought by Enron and everyone's happy. Why? Because their stock is going through the roof. They must be doing something right...right? Wrong. They're staying afloat because they've been behaving like locusts-descending upon crops, devouring them, and moving on to the next. And when you're government, who's only purpose is to protect you is called into play, they fake his death and let his estate keep the ill-gotten goods. Why shouldn't the rest of us behave in kind? When your reward for doing what is upstanding and right is a dick up your ass compliments of the U.S. government-what incentive does one have to do otherwise?

Today is a sad day in the history of mankind.

The Prince

Marjorie's Dowry

Some years ago I worked for a telecommunications company and received a promotion to a department that earned me a ton of money over the course of about 6 years. Of the 5 people hired, I was the only black and the only male. The other individuals were female. I came to know (not in the biblical sense) them quite well as we went through training and navigated our careers. One of the young ladies was named Marjorie. She wasn't a strikingly attractive young lady. In fact she was relatively nondescript. If she walked into a room, she wouldn't draw very much attention. But she was a very nice girl who had a plan.

Majorie and I were amongst the few people who poured a majority of our salary into our 401k plan. One day I asked Majorie what motivated her to allot so much of her salary to 401k and she said, "It's for my dowry."
"Dowry?" I asked. I knew exactly what it was but in my lifetime had never heard anyone speak of or much less have one.
"Yes, dowry. If I'm to be taken seriously by my husband, I must bring something to the table."

I looked at Majorie long and hard trying to assess the words that she had just spoken. All of my years I had heard about how and why men should be taking care of a woman, and all she had to do was show up. She didn't have to bring anything to the table, and furthermore, once married, she didn't have to do much else. No cooking, cleaning, or caring for the children, (the man had better earn enough for her to stay home and not work AND pay for some cleaning lady to come and take care of the household). She was the prize and you'd damn well better take care of her or else she will pack up the kids and take half of what you might have already had before she came around. Majorie and no such disillusion. I really cogitated over what she said to me. It struck a nerve. Here was a woman who refused to buy into society or the media's false inflation of a woman's worth. She, first of all, knew that she wasn't the most attractive woman on the planet. But not only did she have a clear sense of her own value, she also knew the value of all women.

She didn't allow herself to become disillusioned over beauty-we all know that eventually that fades. She came bearing gifts. And if a man is supposed to support you solely, shouldn't you bring something to the table? There was a time when a family put money aside so that the daughter would have something to offer the husband when they wed. Nowadays, she just comes with the clothes on her back and laundry list of things YOU need to do. And if she manages to assemble a nugget or two, she won't let you forget that she brought all of this to the table and you brought nothing. Or she will discriminately eliminate you as a candidate because you ain't got shit.

I'm not saying we should go back to the days where a woman came with a dowry, but keeping in mind that at one time there was an intrinsic value assigned to her via a dowry, what is a woman's true worth today?

The Prince

OHIO PLAYERS

Thursday night, the band borded a flight headed for Detroit Michigan. We were picked up by a stretch hummer and whisked off to Toledo Ohio. We had a gig there that, I must admit, was really a waste of time. We played a total of 3 songs. But I have to admit that I partied my ass off! The Henessy was flowing, the 420 was burning. I need about a year to recover.

It was cool kicking it with the band but today when we touched down in Los Angeles, we received a text message from our keyboard player stating that he quit. Pretty chicken shit but so fucking what-there are more keyboard players out there. It would have been cool if he would have let us know ahead of time and give us an opportunity to find another keyboard player but you can't have everything.

All in all I guess I understand his departure-he just graduated from college, he's got a new job and money for the first time in his life-and we are a part of his past I'm sure he wants to forget-good riddance. I don't know how black people think that they will get anywhere as individuals if they can't go anywhere as a group. I'm so disappointed in my people. It's as though they can't do a damned thing as a group. Oh wait, they fight a lot and act like crabs in a bucket, but I don't consider that a positive group activity. I think crisis brings people together and black people are in a crisis. But we've been there so long we've normalized our awful condition (and even consider some of it cool). So even though we are in a bad state, we can see it. And we infight with each other instead of building something positive. That young man is going to find out that white folks will hang you out to dry. If it can happen to Mike Tyson, Mike Jackson, OJ Simpson (ok maybe OJ was guilty), it could happen to you-wet behind the ears, green horn. God hasn't blessed you brother, and if he has, you'll find out that you've misused that blessing. Do I say that because you left the band? No, I say it because I remember how you were prior to your graduation-now you're too hot for TV-life will explain this to you one day.

RCP

What's It Like?

I came home today for lunch and looked at my wife sitting on the couch. I spoke and she barely nodded her head. I began to think, "What's it like to come home to a woman that's happy to see you?" I don't what that's like-can't say that I ever have (that I can remember). It's best to be alone, I think.

When my youngest daughter stays with me, it feels good when I come home because she greets me at the door with the biggest "DADDY" that a man could ever want. I have to say that it's the highlight of my day. The joys of fatherhood are worth all the shit I put up with her Mom. My wife is not a very happy person generally. Me, I'm always happy. Always smiling, always laughing, and this place is such a downer. I really would like to see it change, but I guess deep down inside, I know it won't.

Kanye for President

I have to admit that I didn't have much respect for Kanye West, both as an artist and as a human being until he spoke out during Katrina. It wasn't until after his bold and brash statement about Bush that I actually stood up and took notice. Subsequently I purchased (ok downloaded after purchasing) his sophomore project (can't call it a cd or album any longer). I already had his first one but rarely listened to it. I didn't give him much credit but when he opened his mouth and exercised his right to free speech, I stood and applauded him. His statement wasn't very profound (almost childlike if you ask me), but he stuck his neck out for his people and paid a price.

I recently saw him on television and he admitted that he lost endorsements behind his statement. The first thing I thought was how fucking un-American until I reminded myself that that was American. Having a system whereby you tell people that they have the freedom to do something but punish them for doing it is, and has been, America since the beginning. It is why we can have this document that clearly states that all men are created equal and then you tarnish the legitimacy of the document by amending it claiming that certain men aren't men afterall-just 3/5 of a man. HUH?

I think that every black person in the country should buy his next release twice. Let's make him the biggest selling artist since the Beatles. I don't care if he records a project farting for 30 minutes-we should pick it up. Better yet, we should implore him to do something totally independent like write a script and shoot a movie. I don't care if it's crap, we buy 2 DVD's a piece and see it as many times as we can. This way, all of the money goes into his pocket and not the record company's. If you don't have the extra cash, you can take it out of the 10% we've been giving the church for centuries, and they haven't done a damn thing to improve our communities.

If we don't do this, how will we ever encourage others in influential positions to stand up for the masses of black people that suffer every single day in this country? In the 60's when Muhammad Ali took a stand against the Vietnam War, every black person in America should have kept the man in the lap of luxury. We should have donated en masse to help him financially. He was a living hero amongst us. It is up to us to let our people know that if they represent us, we will support them. It is a 2-way street you know. If Kanye lost an endorsement deal, the company that dropped him should lose the entire black community as customers. If it's Nike, we don't purchase another pair of Nikes until Kanye's contract is reinstated AND he's compensated double for every penny he lost during the time that his contract was nullified. If we don't come together as a people, we will be picked apart.

Let's do what we can to help our brother out. He was the proverbial David that went up against Goliath-has hasn't defeated him yet, but with our help perhaps he can.

The Prince