Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Insomniac Theatre

As you can see I've completely sold out and adopted one of those terribly corny virtual pets. May I add that Fuzz performs nothing useful. I thought he would at least come with a chew toy. No such luck. He stands there and pants, occasionally jumping into the air if offered a dog biscuit. (May I also add that with three cats in my house a virtual dog is as close as I will get to having one)
Today was the usual boring as hell day. I stayed up all night writing (the first novel is in the process of its second edit, looking good if I can say so myelf) I spent twenty minutes oerfecting two paragraphs and as soon as I did, my car skidded off the road and hit the brick wall that is Writer's Block. Getting the Block when you've already written the book is quite strange. It's like watching the video of a rehearsal you just finished. As you're cheering with your dancers and wiping sweat from your brow, you see where you could have done this and where you can fix that. Necessary to work harder and get it right for the big performance.
I fell asleep on the couch at around three, woke up around five. Beyond that cat nap, I've been awake since eleven AM yesterday. If I keep this up I'll be suffereing from a severe case of sleep deprivation. I'm scared of sleeping pills, I don't trust them. So I just write until I can't see anymore, or until my face hits the keyboard, whichever comes first.
Bats is almost done. Feeling optimistic, I'm proud of him. Last I checked he stood at fifteen thousand to go.
(Sidebar: You ever get the feeling that something is not quite right? I can't seem to shake it and it could just be the lack of sleep talking, but for the past couple of days, I've been having the strangest feeling. Usually, my feelings are right and I'm hoping this one isn't.)
Feel free to donate to the boot fund. (See Nov 11th, Let's Be Real) I've had my eye on those babies for the longest. Its this whole damn budget thing. I'm not very good at saving. If I have to save for food, sure. Clothes, sure. Necessities, sure. But its another thing when it comes to footwear. I really do need an intervention before it gets bad.
I got quite a few emails from folks angry over both my revised BET list and my recent Name In Bed list. Let me say this, none of these folks pay my rent. This is purely recreational. You don't like it, get over it! If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked. You know me by now. I very rarely hold my tongue. (To Danika, you know damn well how I feel about the whole Terry McMillian thing. I have not one iota of sympathy for her. Homie looked suspect from day one. Yes, you can look gay. Usher does it quite well on a regular basis. His fruity ass can join David Gest and Mr. Star Jones-Reynolds in that club. Yeah, I said it!)
If I feel it needs to be said, I'm going to say it. (To Brian, just because he's a rapper doesn't make Jay-Z a handsome guy. His wallet is fine yes. Him? Not so much. And why the hell are you ratin dudes anyway? How you doin?)
Also, to G-Payne, VisualEyes, RubbabandMan#1 and MoxCrew, no I will not remove TO from his prominent place on the List of People who Scream Their Own Names in Bed. Keep it up and I'll put him at Numero Uno where he rightfully belongs. The nigga got a fat ass mouth. Yes, he is a bomb ass player, he lights it up when he's on the field. (Just because I'm a chick doesn't mean I don't know.) But he needs to keep his trap shut. I'm all for saying what you want to say. I've been a proud member of that club since '87. But I've had to learn there's a time and a place. And obviously he hasn't figured that out yet. So no I will not remove him.

*Monica, I'm going under the radar tonight so when you finish reading PI, send me an email and tell me what you thought.*

RIP Oz 1984-2005
You always told me you were ready to die
So when the heat was on you said
Baby it's my time
I only wish I could have been there
to say goodbye
You told it would happen
And when it did, not to cry
I know you're on your way home
So spread your wings
and fly
Angel, fly
In case you're wondering, he was one of my closest friends. Yet another senseless death to chalk up to "the game". His birthday would have been this Friday. He leaves behind his wife, Akeysha, and two daughters, Taleesa and Jazmine. I'm tired of funerals. I really am. So help me God, I'm going write my way out of the hood if it kills me.


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Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and may this song play all the way, through. And if it skip a beat, hit repeat, this the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. If it skip a beat, hit repeat, This the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. -Juelz Sanatana, This Is Me, What The Game's Been Missing