jeudi, décembre 07, 2006

Waiting for Santa Claus to Show Up

News & Notes*
: On other fronts, I've been waking to jackhammering on Adelphi every morning at 7am and I'm afraid this development will disrupt my already iffy cable service. I realize that I am inordinately regimented with how I keep my house. I recently rapped a butcher knife on the kitchen counter when I felt some food remnants on a dish a house guest washed (poorly). I realize that I love the kids despite constant professions of the opposite. I get dangerously invested in people to my emotional and physical detriment, which is why I can sometimes hold back but having just re-engaged the babies I realize how much I miss them and how good I am with them. I like "A Dozen Roses", gauche lyrics and all. Monica's always been a personal fav. Never fail to tear up at listen to "Angel of Mine." I hated my poetry workshop and haven't written anything creative since then. I thought this post was particularly on point. I dearly miss Emerge. I am continually disheartened by Black media (and by the fact that Grammy nominated Akon-"Smack That" apparently impressed the academy--is poised to work with Whitney Houston). YSB was amazing and don't get me started 'bout Teen Summit (Yeah, yeah! Kick the truth to the young Black youth.) I am trying to decide if I'm going to go ahead host this Holiday party. I am extravagant and my parties can get expensive. I am also broke. I would really love to do something for my dears but If I do something for them I won't be able to do something for me and these Juicy Jeans I have on are rather worn down. I also need a new celly. I want the Blackberry Pearl if I decide to stay with T-Mobile, the BlackJack if I jump ship to Cingular. I want these Givenchy boots ("such would astound you") on sale for a little under $400 (marked down from 4 figures) at Century. Really bad. I want this sick silver and black leather braided Chanel watch at Saks. I want a ticket to see Kristel and her recently expanded family. I want reflexology and a flat tummy. Amen.

* I miss Ed Gordon