Reflection...

Whenever I'm overwhelmed I try to take a walk somewhere quiet while getting my thoughts together. When I was younger, I didn't much take in the places I strolled through. As I grew older and traveled I learned to appreciate the scenery in the places I sought solace.

I'm finding myself in a familiar place this day. Before River Bank Park was developed, I'd spent countless hours strolling along Riverside Drive and various other areas along the Hudson River. I can't count how many decisions I've made while taking in the sometimes majestic view of the George Washington Bridge.

Today, there are quite a few things on my mind. I've not quite had the time to sort them out; but it's a perfect opportunity to hit this blog.
What's on a brother's mind today? What's not? Here's what

A serious lack of much needed money. No stable place to rest my head. No computer to keep up with too many things. Surgery requiring the opening of a chest plate to remove a fungus (and the drama from secrets that have come out behind it). Oh yeah... And my wife.

There's more on my mind. Just not much more worth mentioning. Above is a photo of the GWB from where I'm sitting here at River Bank Park on West 145th Street. This is where I'm taking the time to reflect today.


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Opening "The End"

A photo of an empty subway platform. What stories could be told about such a dismal looking image. I walked here from my residence specifically to open an envelope. It just seemed like the right place to do it.

7305 days ago this spot was occupied by something amazing. It seems like only yesterday, right there where the yellow non-slip strip meets the concrete, it stood in boots, jeans and a funky brown coat that's way out of style now. Something that made me go in the opposite direction just to try making an impression. I was already late so it really didn't matter. Hopping on this train headed uptown, knowing I had to be downtown nearly an hour ago.

I gave her my number. Hoping that something in the way I spoke, something I was wearing, maybe even the way I looked at her would somehow inspire her to give me a call. Of course that call never came... Not from that encounter. But I wanted it to. Something started in that spot. So it's only right that the beginning of the end should start in the very same place.

People change after so many seasons. Yeah, I was hopeful when the second chance came around. I put everything I am into it this time. I guess it just wasn't enough.

So I came here to open this heavy thing. With one thought on my mind... Can We... come back to this spot? I always wanted to revisit it. I wonder what Amber would have thought, had I been given the opportunity to stand right there and say... This is the spot? It could've happened.

Cracked by a little white lie, a stray mind that tried for a decade to hate, a war, a need, a few more lies and a revelation. It all comes down to a question. A question that, I believe, if it were asked in this very spot, just might awaken something that would inspire me to throw away this envelope. But no one is there to ask the question.

So I asked the question. There was no response... And so I opened the envelope... I opened "The End".


The song I'm hearing right now:
Dreamworld by Robin Thicke from the CD "Something Else".
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Alone...

For years, I've known the feeling... Even enjoyed it from time to time. But it is a completely different story to KNOW when you're truly alone. Especially when everything you can imagine, and then some, is pressing against you. It's really bad when you look around, only to see people who SHOULD be with you only to find that they are against you too.

Then, there are those times when people pretend to be with you. The wife, or girlfriend or brother or sister... You get the general idea. Those people who should have your back, no matter what; but it only turns out that it's only for their own benefit. Their own selfish reasons. Those people who, for all practical reasons SHOULD be there when nobody else cares. The truth about them usually comes about when you're at your lowest low.

To the pretenders, I say: stop pretending. Keep your fakeness, and do NOT let me see you when times are good. I can't be responsible for my actions.

Kick rocks...
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War No More by Wyclef Jean (9/11 Tribute)

Light is in the air right now
Two thousand and two rebel music
The saga continues
Listen, children

What's the problem in Manhattan
Every ten men they look like Bin Laden
So I have problems when I go to the airport
First thing they do they wanna ask me for my passport
The said Wyclef we love the Fugees the score
But did anybody give you any strange package to bring on board
I was like ¡ 'no'
Here comes your national guards
This look like a scene from the movie Star Wars
One foot in, one foot out standing in the airplane
I'm on tour
I'm on my way to Japan
First class, dark shades
Let the fuschia out bed
I want to sleep but keep my eyes on the cock pit
Why just think they stay target- the pilot
We gonna take over the plane
Like the Los Angeles riot
Riot
Riot
The Middle East
The Middle East
The street pack more heat than the Middle East
The Middle East
The Middle East
When will the violence sleep in the Middle East
The Middle East
The street pack more heat than the Middle East
The Middle East
The Middle East
When will the violence
Say peace
Say peace
We don't want no war no more
Let me hear the streets
Peace, oh peace
We don't want no war no more
Let me hear the Middle East now
Peace, now peace, oh peace, oh peace
We don't want no war no more
Let me hear the USA say peace
Say peace
Lord, peace
We don't want no war no more

We don't want no war no more (x6)

Ay, peace
Oh peace
We don't want no war no more
No, no let me hear you say
Peace, peace,
Say peace, say peace
We don't want no war no more
No, no, no, no
Say peace, oh peace
We don't want no war no more
No more riots
Riots
riots (x5)


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Who Am I...?

One of my first English assignments was to introduce myself to my classmates via an online thread, find a photo that reflects who I am, and give a description. Sounds simple, doesn't it? I spent quite some time online looking, but I didn't come up with much.

Well, I could have easily chosen a photo of a submarine since I know pretty much everything there is to know about a 688i class Attack Sub. But, if that were me, I would probably still be in the navy. There were many things I could have used, but nothing I could think of seemed quite right.

The day before my assignment was due, I decided I'd use my blackberry and consciously look for something to fit who I am. I took a few photos... A garden in central park, a bridge, and a few other things. I ride the NYC Subway when going to class and I noticed two things: (1) you can see a lot of rooftops from the elevated 7 line and (2) there are still some decent Graffiti artists out there. The latter thought came to mind, not while I was on the train, but while I was walking North on Central Park East... Fairly close to 106th Street. So I made a right, and walked over two blocks.

Many of the kids who watch the popular video show "106th & Park" on Black Entertainment Television don't really know why the show has that name (and maintains it, even though the studio is no longer located on East 106th Street and Park Avenue in Manhattan). It's actually because of one of the other major parts of Hip-Hop Culture for which an unofficial landmark still remains: The Graffiti Hall of Fame.

It's just a schoolyard I don't know how it started or when, but it's been there for years. Every year they update it and, for the most part, the main wall gets respected and is rarely touched by haters.

---

The best way to describe me is by describing where I'm from. Graffiti used to be something that was everywhere in the area I grew up in. Most of it was nasty, but there were often patches of nice work. There's been movies and documentaries about it. You can see the good and the bad in late seventies/early eighties NYC films.

To some people it's an ugly thing, even disgraceful. While to others it's as beautiful as a sunset in the country. Sometimes it can be complex. Other times it can even be cryptic. But most of the time it's pretty simple. You just have to know how to look at it.

On the main wall here, if you look closely at the center, you will even see Michael Jackson's touch here.

This entire photo describes me.
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Lyrics: Song I'm Feeling Right Now...

Ain't found a way to kill me yet
Eyes burn with stinging sweat
Seems every path leads me to nowhere
Wife and kids household pet
Army green was no safe bet
The bullets scream to me from somewhere

Here they come to snuff the rooster
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah
You know he ain't gonna die
No, no, no, ya know he ain't gonna die

Walkin' tall machine gun man
They spit on me in my home land
Gloria sent me pictures of my boy
Got my pills 'gainst mosquito death
My buddy's breathin' his dyin' breath
Oh God please won't you help me make it through

Here they come to snuff the rooster
Yeah here come the rooster, yeah
You know he ain't gonna die
No, no, no ya know he ain't gonna die

-- Alice In Chains
(Yes, I listen to them too!)
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Won't You Be My Neighbor?

Okay, so the President wants to deliver a speech to the schoolchildren of the United States of America. What could be so bad about that? Somehow, someone somewhere finds something wrong with this.

Come ON people. Can't we find something better to complain about? I mean really now. What can Mr. Obama possibly say that could be so bad that you don't want your kids to hear it? Surely, it can't be as bad as the music you allow your children to listen to. And I'm positively certain that his language will be exceptionally better than yours. So what's the uproar all about.

I read something about the President coming across as a "Mister Rogers". Yeah, I hated the show... even as a kid... But I always admired his work. What's next, are they going to compare the President to the evil LaVar Burton if he reads the children a story? This is starting to get crazy. At the end of the Mr. Rogers article, the truth of it all came out... I wish I could find it; but such things have a way of disappearing after a while. But it ended saying something like 'maybe the children will end up LIKING Mister President'.

I don't see anything wrong with my children liking and being encouraged by our nation's leader. I only wish Mr. Carter or Mr. Reagan took the time out to do the same.
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Mama Is Always Smug...

I hate being late when it's time to visit my son. It's like I'm letting him down or breaking a promise. Especially if it's for a trip to the park or to do something a six year old would consider fun. How do you explain that you overslept when it's something he's been looking forward to all week long?

Fortunately, that's not the case. I can't imagine waiting to do something with my dad and he shows up late... or sometimes not at all. I guess I would feel like he doesn't care. That I'm not a priority. Or how would I feel the next time I saw him? Who or what else could be more important than seeing me on Saturday afternoon?

wow.

I can't be late today.

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Mind Ya Business...

Okay, one of the strangest, craziest, and just plain ole New Yorkish things I've seen today.

The first... A Latina lady scolding her children, on the subway, is interrupted by another straphanger who tells her she shouldn't talk to her children that way. After the lady tells him to mind his business, he continues on until the lady finally has enough. So now, instead of yelling at her kids, she's screaming at this dude... and STILL he continues.

Okay, so things are getting pretty heavy. Luckily, the train stops at 72nd Street and the lady just grabs her kids and gets off. I'm certain it wasn't her stop. I would have given it fifteen seconds more before she would have snatched the stick he was carrying and there would've been a headline on the news tonight like "Woman Goes Primal on the NYC Subway... More at 11".

Sometimes people just need to mind their business. That could've gotten ugly.
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