Sunday, December 19, 2010

TINA TURNER, DOWN BY THE RIVER AND I'M FEELIN ALRIGHT


I wish I could stop time. Sometimes, constricted by life's problems, I wish I could stop the cavalcade of life - for brief moments - to bask in the glory of days gone by. Granted, some things are best left in the past, but lawd have mercy, sometimes I cry for yesterday. Well, music takes me there.




How about Tina Turner, did she ever take you anywhere?



Were you ever FEELIN' ALRIGHT?



I know you've had a FAMILY-AFFAIR



Saturday, December 4, 2010

Are We All Preaching To The Choir and Knee-Jerks?



This is not a BOOTY CALL. And, It's surely not one of a thousand new wave presentation of facts and fallacies, nor utterances of shiny gift wrapped bull sh*t. So, if you are an under-informed, self-congratulating pseudo intellectual, who loves the intoxicating smells of mess and ambiguity...





**I am laughing because I thought that picture was such a cute way to say what I could not find the words to express **

Now, if you're still here, the blogger
Black Diaspora said... : "One thing I've learned: The "Big Picture" is always bigger than our imaginations, and the whys and wherefores more profound than our guesses"


I looked at those words and said, "wow, that's deep".


On the surface, his words wouldn't appear to a great mind exploding thought, yet, for me, they were, and they were great words of encouragement. And, I'll tell you why.


Well, in reference to the question "Are we all preaching to the choir and knee-jerks?" I have to say, for the most part, we are. But don't cry for me because I am not crying in my beer (today), I'm looking for solutions. You know, I've often told people to look behind me to see if there's any garbage back there because I am not looking back. I am looking for answers. So following me and maybe will both find a little enlightenment. But be forewarned, the odds are against "US".

Really, how does one change the mind of another person? Doesn't everyone have an agenda - conscience or not?

If that question "how do you change an other's mind" is not addressed and understood, the choir may well be the only listeners. Here's another thought: Can a person change the mind of another? If so, what are all the necessary elements for that process to take place?

I think we all have opinions and ideas that we live by, and in most cases, even if those opinions are dead wrong - or we cannot support them with any concrete evidence - I think it's safe to say we will protect those concepts/ideas with all our heart and soul. It's just an enate human nature to desire the feeling of "right". Consequently, it's my belief that anything that runs contrary to that feeling, is not welcomed and surely not rewarded.

But let me finish because I wholeheartedly believe that we - bloggers - are for the most part, preaching to a very small crowd. Hence, "the choir". Generally it's those that argree with our expressed sentiments that are really looking and listening for wisdom, not those that disagree. Think about that as we continue.

I am going to end this piece by saying a little something I've said before in this post HERE: http://careycarey-carrymehome.blogspot.com/2010/10/looking-over-wall-i-cant-go-back-there.html. And then follow with a response from that post. And then we'll see if any of my words rang true.

Here it goes, I said:

"Several years ago, when I first started participating in Internet discussions, I was lost. I had a distorted image of happiness. Well, maybe not lost, but certainly adrift. I am reminded of those guys in the movies, you know, the starving castaway on a makeshift raft, peering over the tops of waves, looking for land, and just living on hope. Yet, somewhere deep inside, I could not give up.

Today I have a motto “What About A Time Called Now”. It’s here and now, in the moments of creating and expressing my thoughts, where I feel the most at ease and confident. In many ways, it’s always felt just right, and it’s always brought me a rush of emotions, most of them the best I ve ever known.

Now the downside of it is, there’s always some jerk who stands in judgment of what you do. The harshest criticism always seems to come from those that truly have no idea what you’re doing, and truly has no gift of their own. And are just plain pissed off that you’re happy and happily plying your craft. That is of course, if you’re making the world a little more ugly, then that type of personality, will gladly hold your hand and dance through the stankin muck filled sewer, proclaiming that you, just like they, see only how awful it all is, but take pleasure in the celebration of it. But somewhere along my journey, I came to understand that any D- minus person can see how terrible things are. That did not take any skills"

Here's a couple of response - from that post - for your consideration.

LoudPen said...
"Excellent post! Carey why is it that we write similar posts (about haters/ignorant folks) and yours comes off as spoken with love and mine comes off as angry? Me? I write best when upset...which is sometimes my downfall. I guess that's when I feel the hardest. It's hard for me to describe my happiness, I can talk about what makes me happy but I can't talk about how happiness makes me feel. Maybe I need to work on that. I know this is all unrelated to your post so my bad. Anyway, I just wanted to say that you need to keep on writing, keep on blogging"

BigmacInPittsburgh said...
"Ok now you are making me mad,here you are wasting precious time and energy trying to placate zeros,I truly believe Carey there are some people on this planet who are not worth understanding,my time is too precious to care"

So, in short, my questions remain: Are we all preaching to the choir? And, if not, how do we change the mind of another person?

Hey, it's also highly possible that nobody agrees with anything I've said?



Thursday, December 2, 2010

THERE'S A NEW YEAR -- A Train A Comin' -- NEGROS BETTER GET READY!

I was going to say N-WORD-ERS get ready, but I didn't want some negros getting mad at me. But check this train-of-thought. And remember, it's just my opinion. But hold on, cuz there IS a train coming.

Her Excellency EJS President of Liberia was recently in the states visiting a friend of mine. It was sort of a book promotion thing. I didn't know that much about Liberia. Well, Okay, I thought Marcus Garvey was the president of Liberia. Didn't he swindle a few black people with a promise of new Cadillacs, in a new land? Wait, maybe that was Daddy Rich. Wait, dang it, that's not even right. That was Richard Pryor... wasn't it? Or was that Eddie Long? Anyway, all I know is some negroes got together and got on a big boat and went to Africa. Don't get mad at me for saying negroes because I'm just trying to be historically correct. I can't say some niggas got on a boat. Some negros might get upset. I mean, we were called negroes, okay, so don't get mad at me. Yep, sambos, darkies, niggers and negroes, that's what they called us. Hey, I didn't invent the words. Heck, I'm reminded of the time I had to fight a brotha because I called him black. So please, you say afro, some say negro, and some say the N-word. I'd rather sit in a tub of frog spit than debate the NeverEndingStory of who's on first and what's his real name. OuuuuWeeee, I'm tellin' ya, that mess is too too tuff for me.

But see, in all seriousness, I was lost about the history of Liberia. So I asked my friend a few questions about the country, the president and her book. Mocha, from "In the Cafe with Mocha television show" was the presidents host. This was her reply :

"You should definitely try the book, Liberia has a very interesting history and she does a great job of laying the foundation so that you really understand the underlying reasons for their 14 year war.

She is a very cool lady, very intelligent and warm. She was on the John Stewart Show on Thursday and actually made him a Chief"


See, I didn't know anything about a war. Well, I sort of heard about wars in Africa but I just threw them all in the same pot. I am not trying to be funny. I am sure there are many that keep a keen eye on the current events in the homeland but I have to be honest and say... I am not the one. I could fake it like the Wizard of Oz. But I'd be a fake, just like the Wizard of Oz. And who likes a flaky jake... I don't. So, I asked a few more questions, she replied:

"Carey, the war was in its most simple explanation was about class. There are indigenous Liberians and what are called "Americo-Liberians" descendants of freed American slaves who were sent back to Africa with the permission/expense of the US Government. Of course many of these now freed slaves were generations removed from Africa and basically thought of the indigenous. It did not help that the US government established a government system that mirrored that of the US and placed the freed slaves in positions of power to rule over this newly settled land of Liberia. After years and years of simmering animosity as most oppressed people usually do, they rebelled. This led to 14 years of coups, corrupt government, and extreme poverty. When Ellen came into power she had a country that had no electricity or running water for 8 years, no school systems in place, 90% unemployment rate, debt 30 times more than the annual budget.


I looked at those statistics and was blown away. I looked at the poverty and the US governments involvement in the whole process. Then my mind went to a place few has ventured. What if the US got tired of black folks and decided to call them all in. Hold up now, let me finish. What if they preempted all programing and told all African Americans to report to "staging areas"?

Okay, we know most black people have 1 gun - or none - and 6 bullets. But, for the sake of argument, lets say several have a bunch of weapons. But see, I doubt that would be enough because, first, they would tell all white folk to get out of the cities and then bomb that bitch. You feeling me? That would corral a bunch of negroes. All your white buddies would then be nothing but white - not buddies - simply white. They sure wouldn't run to the cities with your ass. Let alone hide you in their attic. That "hide the darkie in the attic" is only found in the movies. The US can't find Bin "Thin" Latin, but they'll find negroes hiding under the boardwalk.

And check this, I don't know if you've driven across the US, but if you have, you know there are miles and miles and miles of places that a brotha CAN'T hide. What? Don't believe me, ask the Indian about that.


That reminds me. The American Indian had strong warriors on swift horses. You know, strong bucks to ride forward, spreading the news of the advancing white man with fork tongue. But apparently, they were not fast enough. So, what about communications? Do I need to say how vital a role that plays in any... ahh, war? A 30 day phone card is not going to get it. And BET is owned by white folks.


The Jewish community could blend in. Yep, all they have to do is change their names and take off that Star Of David. But black folks can't hide. Where are they gonna run? If they run to the West there's a great body of water called the Mississippi River. Uh huh, that's going to stop many right there. And, if some make it to the other side they will not be met by the underground railroad. Not Harriet Tubman, nor Oprah, will be waiting for them with a glass of kool-aid or a new refrigerator. Nope, cornfields, haystacks and shotguns will be the name of the game.


How many airplanes do black folks own? Heck, how many black pilots do you know? Who's going to come to the rescue of the black man in America? Is the black man really needed? Affirmative action will not fly. The bill of rights and civil rights will be null and void.


Is the black man really needed? There will be jobs for everyone - white. Unemployment will be at it's lowest. No more BET to wreck the minds of the inquisitive white kids. White folks could turn on the TV and root for all the white guys shooting 3 pointers. Dunking will be banned. There would be no more debates about immigration because everybody that even looks like they've ever kissed a dark skinned person would have to run for the hills.

I know this scenario might sound a little crazy but am just saying... is the black man needed in the US? Some might argue the contributions the black man has made on this country, like jazz and the peanut, but really? Who needs the black man to make more babies they can not afford, nor feed? Who needs the black man to sell more drugs and increase the crime rate? Why doesn't America take the black man out of his misery before unemployment hits the levels of Liberia? Heck, they're already killing each other. Should the black man get ready because isn't there a train a coming? Do we need another million man march or HBO special about the plight of the black man? Should we call Cornel West and his boys to hold another round table discussion. Maybe we should just bitch and moan and cry and bullshit while telling others what "THEY need to do"

Yawl gonna make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here. Yawl gonna make me act a fool up in here, up in here. Yeah, some believe America can do without rap music too. To many blacks making money off that mess. That gutter bowl - jelly roll - bump yo booty, don't you know, is getting out of control. I don't know, is it me or does America really need black folks?

I think there's a train a comin'. And... that's my opinion. But it is a fact that 2011 is right around the bend.


Keith said...
Hahahahahahaha, Funny, but good points made there. I love this blog because you make me think..Even when I don't want to..Does America really need the Black man?But of course...America would have no rythem without us...no soul...and God knows..America needs a soul.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
It doesn't matter what America needs... GOD said it and it is so!Love ya. To copy off of Keith, you got my brain doing stuff it don't want to do when it's home just chill'n (LOL)Ms. Butterfly

CareyCarey said...
@ Keith ...I tried to keep it light, but it was written to make us think.

freemanpress said...
I think the time when they needed us has long passed and now they don't know what to do. Since the Mexican cats have crossed the borders and taken all the sharecropping jobs we are in the cities. Now never forget taking care of sick people is also a money maker so as long as we remain sick we are a tax base to be exploited.They needed us to do the work they didn't want to do now they need us to be a exploitable people so they can make money. Overall we are not needed but they will never get their own folks to do anything but say they are entitled to the land. Can't grow with someone who feels they don't have to do nothing at all.

CareyCarey said...
Dang Freeman, you've made some very interesting points. Yeah, the only way some feel like they're up is to have others beneath them.

Mizrepresent said...
Well the way these folks are acting up around here...i wouldn't put it past them to give it a try. One friend of mine told me about how gun sales have went up almost 50% in the last couple of months. Somebody out there is stocking up on guns, and from the looks of it, it ain't us.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
Just checking in. Have a great weekend! Love ya crazy, I mean Carey (LOL)Ms. Butterfly

El Nuyorican said...
This shit was funny, but it also made some excellent points. It reminds me of a story, Space Invaders" by Derrick Bell in "Face at the bottom of the Well." In it, aliens come from out of space and promise America all the free fuel they'll ever need and some other shit, but the catch was they had to tuen over all black folk. The story is both funny and very insightful.This post reminded me of that story. I like your stule, bro! LOLEddie

CareyCarey said...
@ Miz ...I've heard similar talk of gun sales increasing. I don't know Miz, I 've seen plenty of brothas get killed AND they had a gun. If you had a gun I doubt it would stop another from killing you.

"But of course...America would have no rhythm without us." What Keith says sounds real...Perhaps every nation, ethnic group or culture finds it rhythm eventually. But without us, it would have taken America so damn long!
.

A Free Spirit Butterfly said...
Just stopping in to say Hello and wishing you a happy whatever day you happen to check this day!Love and hugsMs. ButterflySending prayers your way!

A Lady's Life said...
Thanks for visiting my post:)I think America(and the world) needs good people. I think you find good and bad in all races, in all countries,in all religions. You can't just clump people and stereotype them. I don't like rap because of the swear words. I don't like women being disrespected by calling them bitches and telling them they need to go down.That is not love. It's not love that is going to last. Women are Mothers and no child likes to hear its Momma being called a bitch. Fathers have to look into the eyes of the babies they create and I know they love them but all children need and Mother and a Father and peace and joy. No child worries about money as much as they worry about not having parents. Money never made much of a difference to me as a child.:) Then the gun issue is disturbing. You know, if there were no customers for the drugs, the business would go away on its own very quietly. Why do people take drugs? There are so many other ways to get a high without it hurting you or anyone else.:)That's what I believe:)

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Winans - Question is






GOT DAMIT, Trying To Make It real COMPARED TO WHAT?

Take a few minutes and listen to this. Eddie Harris and Les McCann said it a long time ago. I remember those protest days, and the beat still rings true. Listen to the lyrics as you tap your feet to the magical song.

I grew up listening to Les McCann, Eddie Harris, Miles Davis, The Crusaders, Cannonball Adderley, Monk, West Montgomery, and many other jazz musicians. So today, I am going back and sharing my past with you.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Bend Over And Take It From A Man!


But, don’t take this ass whoopin’ personally. However, this post is going to piss-off a few folks. Well, particularly those individuals that are quick to give advice on topics in which their reference, or source of knowledge is woefully flawed.

In reference to maintaining a lasting relationship, what kind of a special kind of fool would I be if listened to someone that has never had a lasting relationship, and/or is not presently in a "good" relationship?


This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you, but listen. Although it’s been said – many times and many ways – some folks can’t stand the truth. But if you don’t trust me, or have more faith in the female race, lets put on our rabbit ears and listen to a few honest women.

Now, before we begin, check this, these women have no reason to lie. Granted, there are those that are constitutionally incapable of telling the truth, but today, these women don’t even know we’re listening.

Miss Tigrrrr: “Too be honest, I think many of the women who are married are women who knew from the get-go that marriage was one of the things they wanted most in life. And somebody (probably momma) gave them some good pointers on how to get and keep a man's attention”


See, right Miss Tigrrr, is talking a whole lot of facts! But let’s not stop there. She also said, “In my 20's I expected to be pursued and somehow the whole thing would magically happen. In my 30's I had fun being single. In my 40's, marriage was starting to look like a bad deal - all work, no play. Now in my 50's, I can only afford to marry somebody who is gonna make the rest of this journey easier (financially, emotionally, spiritually.)”


Now, I don’t think I have to explain her words, but I’ll get back to them. Let’s sneak up on another honest woman. There’s Cookie, let’s we see what she has to say. Cookie: “ I was in a very abusive marriage. I stayed with my husband far too long because I thought all men were like him. Until I met my new guy, I realized I’d never been around good men. My father was not in my life and my mother has been married 5 times. My sister’s husband has been in and out of jail, and all my uncles are dogs”


Boy oh boy, Cookie’s words spoke volumes. But listen, the next woman sends a message that most women would love to champion. But see, even though several women raised their pom poms, I think most men will hear a different tune.

Blu Jewel’s open letter http://mentallyspeaking.blogspot.com/2010/01/open-letter-2-moved-on.html. It starts off like this: “First let me preface this by saying that I am in no way bitter, angry, or any negative emotion one can think of. In fact, I’m completely lucid, emotionally liberated, and happy; very happy. Furthermore, none of this is said to hurt, insult or offend, but merely to express some things that were not previously said.

My moment of sublime emotional clarity came when I realized that while I’m the gold at the end of the rainbow, you are simply not ready for receiving what 1) has always been yours and 2) that you’re afraid to be rich with all the emotional rewards that come with being with a woman like me”



Oh yeah! That was good, but I’ll bet a dollar to a dime, that after reading the whole letter, a man’s view will be completely different. Yes sir, a few good women stood up and cheered, but I am left to wonder if they knew exactly what they were cheering about? Hey, don’t ask yourself, ask a man. I mean, a woman may hear bells of freedom, but... for whom does the bell really toll?

What’s your point, Carey?


I am glad you asked, and I’m gonna give it my best shot! Tigress said, momma said. Cookie said, she didn’t know. Blu Jewel gave her point of view about "herself"!

If everyone agrees to handle the truth, I’ll move forward. Well, like it or not, I’m going there. I am of the opinion that if a person shows me who they are, I should believe them. Meaning, I am looking to see if they are walking the talk or just giving their opinion.

Within the previous heartfelt letters and testimonies, I heard something loud and clear. I heard... “Don’t follow the yellow brick road”... aka, the wrong ass.

Statistics say the abused will frequently become the abuser. I believe those words to be true. In fact, I know they are. Of all the women that are presently without a good man, I wonder how many of them came from a broken home? If I was a gambling man, I’d bet those numbers are huge. I also wonder how many women learned their womanly skills from their mother, who may not have been a good role model? Don’t get me wrong, or miss the point. Feeding and clothing a child is one thing, but showing them the proper way to voice their concerns is a different story. To stick and stay – with a man – may not be the best way. To tolerate abuse, may not be the best move. It’s my opinion that if a woman is absent of two very important elements in her life – a good father AND a good mother – chances are, she will struggle with the image of a good black man. More importantly, she might have a hard time interacting with one. Also, she may resort to asking the wrong questions to the wrong individuals.

It’s been said that if a doctor prescribes their own cure, he has a fool for a physician.

Ask not, want not! Women should ask men – about men -- not women. Don’t ask your neighbor (sistah gurl) ask a man! The truth is a tough titty to suck, but if it's not sucked, one might be be found saying... "Bitch Is The New Intelligent Black Woman", or something like that.

In short, watch who's ass you followig? The life you save, could be your own.

Think not? Don't be afraid to tell me why.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Don't Call It A Rant: BUT! Where have all the flowers gone? We're Killing Each Other


When the bright lights of our young children and the great minds of our elders, goes out so early, when so many gifted black people go too soon, we are left with a sorrow and wonder which speculation cannot assuage.

I came to that conclusion while listening to some of my African American friends who have a propensity to rag on Oprah, President Obama, and all the dark faces of our role models young and old.

Killing hopes and dreams by slandering those that have made it over the wall, softly killing them by voicing porous, ignorant and unsubstantiated opinions, draws my evilest stare.

Consequently, while stewing over my disdain for those that love to swim in negativity and gossip mongering, I was reminded of a song that I believe spoke for me..

The title is Where Have All The Flowers Gone. However, I am hearing, "When Will Some Negros Ever Learn?" So, listen along and see if you're feeling me and this song.



Where have all the flowers gone
A long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone
A long ago
Where have all the flowers gone
Girl, theyre picked up, every one
When will they ever learn
When will they ever learn

Where have all the soldiers gone
Long time passing
Where have all the soldiers gone
A long ago
Where have all the soldiers gone
Theyve gone to graveyards every one
When will they ever learn
When will they ever learn

When will they learn, ever learn
When will they learn
When will they learn, ever learn
When will they ever learn
When will they ever learn

If you dont know what were talkin about
When we say this
Theres too many starvin children
If ya dont know what were killing each other
And we just aint got time for ya brother
No no hey hey …




When will some negros ever LEARN?!

PEEK A BOO: Where are all the great women?


That's Peek-A-Boo to the right, she's a super hero. For real, her name is Lashawn Baez. After she transforms, she becomes Peek-a-Boo, a super hero with the power to vanish away. She's also a Medical School graduate student. Well, she's the brainchild of Geoff Johns and Scott Kolins of DC comics.

The name Peek-a-Boo seems to fit an array of women that stand behind great men. Some of whom find themselves in the unenviable position of supporting their husbands while standing in the quiet abyss of obscurity. Yet others are mentioned in the same breath as their championed husband. Many of them are forced to drop their titles and their last names and their own dreams, and acquire the name of "His Wife". What type of super human woman can withstand the torrential storms of standing behind her great man. Aside from the pressures of their jobs, the wake of some great men is filled with Harlots, Jezebels, Judases, Parasites, and a private life that washes away like footprints in the sand after a high tide. Yet, the good woman, the great woman, the strong woman holds on.

Why then, is the phase "behind every good man, there's a good woman" reserved for men? I mean, I seldom, if ever, hear that phrase used in reference to the man standing behind his great woman. In fact, the word "great" seldom precedes the name of women. There's Henry The Great and The Great Houdini. There's even The Great White Hope. Can you believe that - a great - white HOPE, and not a great black woman?

Is the phrase not reciprocal because this is a man's world? Heck, James Brown even wrote a song about it, titled, "This is a man's world". He was the hardest working man in show business and the greatest R & B singer of all time. Does the phrase "behind their man" mean in back of their man or lesser than her man? For many woman, the role of supporting her husband is a honorable position. Unfortunately, it appears men do not aspire to the status of the man behind the woman. The reversal of roles, if only in name, is a hard pill for most men to swallow - why?

Most will agree that there is a good woman behind most great men. Why is that? Is that because "to the victor goes the spoils? Women do outnumber men 7 to 1 in many cities. Maybe men can cheery-pick, you know, finding the "GOOD" woman, and leaving the rest behind. I 've frequently heard woman say there's a small pool of good men. Can it be that all the good woman have been taken by all the great men, and therefore few are left to become great women? That doesn't make sense, or does it? Well, just ponder that for a second while we move on.

President Barack Obama has a good woman behind him, and everyone knows her name. Nelson Mandela had a good woman supporting him, and everyone knows her name. Who doesn't know Coretta Scott King, and her famous husband. If I say Betty Shabazz, you'd probably say Malcolm X.

I could continue this game of "Peeking-at-his-Boo" until the night grew thin, but I am looking for a few great women. The list of great men, and what some might consider as their also-ran is endless. I am looking for the His & Her couple with the woman on top. Why do the names of great woman lack the reverberating names of the good man behind them? I have to admit, Oprah and Steadman is the only couple I could think of, and I doubt they even apply. Oprah is a powerful force, a good woman, but Steadman - how does he fit into the formula? My point: Are there great women, or is that position, or title, reserved for men? More so, where's the good "boo" behind the great woman, if there is such a thing. Maybe it's true that all the good men transformed all the great woman into "His Wife", the house wife, and his Peek-a-Boo, and thus, there's no good woman left behind, to one day, lead the way to greatness. Dang it, I am stumped, I can't figure this out.


Are there any great women up in here? Stand up if you dare, and holla like something aint fair. Or, sit back, like you just don't care. Be the boo that nobody knew.


Friday, November 5, 2010

Jim Brown to Richard Pryor: "What you gonna do?"


Jim Brown, Richard Pryor's friend, upon finding Richard struggling with the vicious demon of free base cocaine addiction, didn't scream at him nor preach to him, he simply asked what he was going to do now. I think at that point in Richard's life, it was do or die.

Those simple words "What you gonna do now" is my gateway to this post.

The view of life which is individualized within the core of a person, is inextricably rooted in the collective history of their life and those with a similar existence, with a special vantage point on life.  A vantage point that can make it difficult - in their eyes, unseemingly, and impossible - to take refuge in the comforting illusions or underlying assumption of society. But if life and personal history brings pain, it's also a source of strength, renewal and inspiration; a window on the potentials of the human spirit.

Having said that, I've come to believe the biggest insurgency to my domain - my unsettled mind - lived with me, it was me.  I allowed myaelf to build walls to reject the world, keeping it out, while inviting like minded individuals - just like me - inside my world of confusion.

Now, today I am going to speak on a subject that I seldom broach on this blog. I mean, I do, yet I've chosen to do it in subtle ways. If you look at the name of my blog CARRY ME HOME, some may recognize that as having a religious connection. Well, if you did, you're on the money.

See, when I first started blogging I didn't have a direction, purpose or goal in mind, but I knew I wanted to tell my story as a means of testifying - to the world- of the power of God's grace. However, being acutely aware of the evil eye and skepticism one may receive upon mentioning a God, I decided to just tell my personal stories of pain, shame and triumph, without preaching the words of God. It was my belief that if I did,  I might be preaching to the choir while turning off those that might need to hear my messages of triumph over pain and misery. More importantly, since I have not arrived, I did not want my blog persona, my propensity to use words and images (on this blog) that some would view as non-christian-like, and thus, use me as a vehicle to sling the arrows of "what about you and look at them" using me as the poster child for all that's wrong about religion, while turning away from the core of the message. And, there are wonderful christain blogs that do nothing but highlight the words of Gods, delivering his message much better than I could ever accomplish.

Nevertheless, having said all of that, one of my first posts was titled "What About A Time Called Now". It centered on how and when I made a conviction to turn my life around. It spoke of a time I was locked behind bars for a crime I committed. In short, I called my mother for help and she said, "Carey, I am done, I gave it to God".

Now, of course I didn't like that answer because I wanted a fast fix to my dilemma, and I surely didn't want to hear anything about God, unless he was prepared to post my bond and get me out of jail. But you know what, what about a time called now; here's where I am at today.

Had I not gone through my storms of life, I would not know God, nor how good he's been for and to me. There was a time, despite having made over 100,000 dollars a year, that I fell to a semi-homeless state.  I stood in a soup line with sadness on my face but gratfulness riding shotgun .  Had I not gone through, I would not know what God can do. He showed me that he was the encore. If I had to do it again (there's always a new storm a-brewin') I would because I can't be afraid, I have to trust him.

Some of my family and friends said I wouldn't make it, but God showed me that he saw the best in me and saved me for the best; the rest of my story. My song could not be sung had I not gone through my storms. I think many of us can sing "nobody knows the trouble I've seen/nobody knows my sorrow".  If we view a person solely from the perspective of what he or she  may have done(in the past), instead of the potential that God sees and has for them, we may miss the essence and the beauty of life.
What about a time called now? It's never too late.


Corinne Bailey Rae - Is This Love - The Tonight Show with Jay Leno

What is it about women from the UK? I don't know but they make my heart go pitter patter! Thandie Newton & Corinne Bailey Rae work me.




CareyCarey On Review: THE MASK COMES OFF!


Just click the link to see the fool behind this blog. I dare you!

I dare you to watch these (7) short 2 minute clips. All of them are me doing my thang. In the last one, I even play the piano... I think. *wink*

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Don't Ask Don't Tell, Best law Since The Emancipation Proclamation



Please don't ask because I am not planning on telling the truth. But maybe I should explain my words of wisdom.

Emancipation is a broad term used to describe various efforts to obtain equality, often for a specifically disenfranchised group , and Emancipation stems from "ex manus capere": 'take out of the hand".

Now, in my upside down world, I'm trying to figure out - before I make my move to soon - how the Emancipation Proclamation and the Don't Ask Don't Tell law and Take Out Of The Hand, applies to me. Well, I am black, so the abolition of slavery must have a direct effect on my life, right? Okay, so, since we're talking about a form of freedom - if you don't ask me any questions - I am free from telling you a lie, right? Which in essence takes it out of my hands, right? Heck, there it is, nice and easy to follow, right?

Well, understandable or not ( and it might seem like I am being factious) but stay with me because I have good news for everyone. But first, I so admire people that aren't afraid of the truth. For instance, the contestants of The Biggest Losers, there's no way in hell I am going to show all my fatness, saggyness, and loose flat titties, for the world to see. Are you kidding me, forget about it. I am not trying to be funny, but I am sure everyone has noticed that the super heavy dudes no longer have chests, they have flat, super saggy titties, and I am not ready to expose all my honesty.

But on the other hand, I also admire those who can tolerate a person that lies dead to their face. I mean, I can safely assume a criminal court judge hears lies on a daily basis. Well, I couldn't do their job because regardless of the law that says a man is innocent until proven guilty, if a man stood in front of me, with his wife's head hanging from his back pocket, and said to me that he had not seen her in a week, I seriously doubt I could ask the question, how do you plead, guilty or not guilty?

Come on now, as my daughter said, "Dad, don't make a liar lie". She believes that if you force a person to tell a lie, and know they are going to lie, you both are going to be sitting there looking stupid, which brings me to my final point. Listen, the Don't Ask Don't Tell law pertains to homosexuality in the military, so I think the name of the law should be changed to.... you guessed it, Don't Make a Liar Lie, which then, would encompass every liar in the world, regardless of their sexual orientation.

Just think how convenient that would be. We've all heard of the 5th amendment that protects a person from self incrimination, well, with this new law (lets call it 5th-DMALL... "don't-make-a-liar lie) if a wife or lover asks a brotha if a certain dress makes her look old and fat, and she is old and obesely fat, he can simple say, "Please baby, DMALL". Then they could gleefully hold hands and trot off to the movie with her fat ass busting outta that size 14 dress.

And see, the real beauty of this new law is that a person can use it on themselves. I really like this part because I can ask myself if I am going to exercise or lose a few pound, and then say, "Please Carey, you know how this goes, DMALL baby".

Yelp, don't ask no questions and Don't-Make-A-Liar, Lie. I am off to talk to my congressman.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

TWENTY FIVE MILES TO GO AND i CAN HEAR MY BABY CALLING MY NAME ~ OBAMA & bebe winan


It's twenty five miles from home, and my feet are hurting mighty bad. Now I've been walking three days and two lonely nights, you know that I'm mighty mad.
But I got a job waiting for me that's gonna make this trip worthwhile.
You see, she's got the kind of lovin' and a kissing a make a man go stone wild. So I got to keep on walkin'. I got to walk on, but oh I, I'm so tired. But I just can't lose my stride.
I can hear my baby calling my name. It's as if as though I'm standing at her front door, I can hear that doggone plain. Now I'll be so glad to see my baby and hold her in my arms. Now when I kiss her lips I turn a back over flip and I'll forget these feet of mine. I got to keep on walkin', I got to walk on. Oh ho ho I'm so tired, but I just can't lose my stride. Let me tell you ya'll, I, I,..... I'm so tired, but I just can't lose my stride. Come on feet don't fail me now ~ Obama's version of Edwin Starr's Twenty Five Miles To go. He has a job to do.
"Okay Carey, whatsup?"
Well, as Shalamar said, it's The Second Time Around!
"Ooh, the second time is so much better, baby, and I'll make it better than the first time. You know I really love you. And I paid for my mistakes, yes, I did, girl. The more I try to hide my feelings, baby, this old heart gets in the way. And love won't let me wait (The second time around). Girl, with me it's better than the first 43 presidents (The second time around). Let's do it one more time, say it again. Say it... Barack Obama, Barack Obama! All that I've been through, I'll do it again just as long as you're with me (The second time around). And though others try to satisfy you, baby, with me true love can still be found"

Well yawl, since it's the second time around, it's time for me to do my thang... one mo again. Here it goes..... I've said this before, but if was right then, it's more than right, right now.
But first.... "Carey, Cary--Obama could do nothing to please the old Cobb and his kind. If Obama cured cancer in his basement on his free time, Cobb would assail him for not curing the common cold and would label him a socialist for upsetting the pharmaceutical industry. For believers he was the promised child, the haters he was Satan.How can Obama govern in this context? I for one think he has done well--amazingly well--given the environment and his legislative successes are the greatest sense Johnson. Is he just doing a poor job communicating them?" ~ Chaunceydenaga @ We Are Respectable Negroes http://wearerespectablenegroes.blogspot.com/2010/10/correlation-or-causation-barack-obama.html
President Obama has a huge weight on his shoulders and so did my grandfather. At the beginning of their new voyage, each of them were up against the mighty Goliath. A formidable foe for sure. Sticks and stones could break their bones, but that was the least of their worries. In 1865, my grandfather of six generations past, was released from slavery. Since that time, there has been 28 white gentlemen seated as President of The United States. Over Fifty Three Thousand days ago, since my grandfather was released from slavery, except for approximately 600 days, there has been a white gentlemen sitting in the White House. For approximately EIGHTY THOUSAND DAYS.... 80,000!!!, there has been a white gentlemen sitting in the White House.
My grandmother is in the next picture.



Look at her, she's so proud. She made it through the hard times, and she's standing in the middle of a few good black men as they break ground for our new church. But the church wasn't about her, she was building something to pass down. She passed away a few years after this picture was taken. But if she had listened to some of the other naysay sell-out sharecroppers, the following event might not have taken place. She and my grandfather stayed strong, stayed together, pooled their resources and got off that man's property.


It's our family reunion! Grandma ironed a few white people's clothes and so did her mother, and so did my mother, but they didn't let that stop them.

My father lost his dad at an early age, but he didn't let that stop him either. In the next picture, see if you know where he's standing?




That's my father standing in front of the White House. Since 1789, there had been a white man living in that white house. Our president is now a black man. He's only been living there for a little more than 600 days. Forty three white fellas had called that place home. In their tenure, they managed to keep racism alive, and hope but a distant memory. For 80,000 days and several wars later, they've managed to build a castle in the sky for them and theirs, and yet, a few of my black friends are quick to point fingers at President Obama. They say he's not moving fast enough and he's staying mum on black issues. I wonder if my nay say friends can trace their family history? I also wonder if they've read a few history books? More importantly, I've often wondered what rewards they are receiving from regurgitating negative opinions about our president? Could it be they adore speaking in a quasi intellectual tone, while missing the fact that they are being ineffectual? Frequently, their misguided "constructive criticism" is nothing more than 10 dollar words of bubbling babble that's used to stroke an inflated ego.

My father has gone home. I miss him, but I remember his words of wisdom.

He was my little league coach and I was a pitcher. One day, a player on my team dropped a fly ball which caused me to lose my cool. As he scrambled to retrieve the ball, another player stumbled over him. The opposing team laughed and ridiculed the players to a point they both started crying. I didn't make things any better with my mean look and foolish antics on the mound. Consumed by my emotions, I threw my next pitch with the fury of a Tasmanian Devil. I hit the batter square upside his head. My father called time out and approached the mound. His following words I will never forget... "look boy, don't ever play another man's game and don't be nobodies fool. Their job is to get you mad at your players and have you act a damn fool. Don't let them see you get rattled. Go out and tell Tommy it's alright and we are going to win this game. We don't need enemies on our own team"

President Obama has a huge task in front of him. He's standing on the mound and the ball is in his hand. We don't need enemies on our own team. If someone tries to engage you in negative criticism about President Obama, stop, look and listen, and then ask them where they are going? Don't play another man's game and don't be nobodies fool.

Remember, Rome was not built in a day and 43 white fellas have played in the white house for over TWO CENTURIES! President Obama has been there less than 21 months. My grandfather didn't go back to slavery. He took the good with the bad, and kept on steppin. Step up... when someone tries to bring Obama down. It's the second time around. At a time called now, it's time to lean forward. Lets build something to pass on! The game ain't changed, so lets not rest on our bellies full of past victories.
What about a time called now!

No You DID NOT Say That To My Grandson?!


Why would a teacher tell a six year old child that there is no Santa Clause? I don't know about you, but...

Today I am doing sommething a little different. I am posting a letter I wrote to a teacher of my grandson. I have not sent it yet, so I am reaching out to see if you agree or disagree. Here it goes:

Hello,

I am a father and a grandfather, and in such, my children confide in me their problems and those of their children. I'll never stop being dad. Yet, although I’ve lived a little, going through struggles along the way, acquiring bits of wisdom in my journey, I too sometimes, in my heart, and mind, sometimes humbly, yet sometimes gracelessly, have to reach out to others for answers on issues that are disturbing my soul.

Having said that, my daughter, who’s son in in your class, called me with hurt in her voice, in a sense, expressing the confusion she witnessed in her son. She was perplexed over an issue that occurred between you and her son, my grandson. See did not know how to address the issue without allowing her emotions to control her.

But first, there's a related distinction between an emotion and the results of that emotion. And, of course, there’s a beginning and ending to most of them. Some, like “surprised”, is fleeting. On the other hand, love can last forever. But today, this issue is more about the hurt, pain and harm you’ve inflected upon our family. Well, when you emotionally disturb a child or treat them in an insensitive manner, that encounter has a domino affect, which takes me to the following matter.

It’s been alleged that on 17 November 2010, you told my grandson and his classmates, who are six years old, that there was no Santa Clause. On the surface that may not seem like a cruel event, yet, at the very least it’s an unusual action by a professional who should understand, regardless of their own personal views, that is not their call.

More importantly, do you understand the joy you’ve taken from this child, and his possible sense of loss? Not to mention that you’ve now put his mother in a position of being a liar. What right do you have to do such?

I believe it’s paramount that you understand that for several hours of a day and several days of the year, you hold the emotional wellbeing of young impressionable children, who, hopefully, look up to you and “should” respect your every word. Consequently, if the allegations are true, we now find ourselves at the aftermath.

Based on the previous issue and compounded with another recent issue involving my grandson, Carey B, I am left to wonder if this is an isolated incident, or do we have bigger issues that other parents should be made aware of?

As I understand it, you told Carey and his mother that they should bring his birthday treats on 5 November 2010. They worked late into the night preparing brownies for Carey’s personal day of joy. Much like Christmas, children look forward to those days in which they can share their happiness. On the morning of his special day, his mother remembers the smile on his face as he walked into his classroom with the pride of a lion. Unfortunately, that afternoon, upon her return to his school, she saw her little boy sadden and with tears in his eyes. He had been told, by you, to take his brownies back home because there was not enough time to pass them out.

Now, we have more questions:

1. Is there a Tooth Fairy that rewards the passage from baby teeth to big kids teeth, and a Bunny Rabbit that brings Easter Eggs? If not, who’s responsible to tell the children all the intricate details of those rights of passage?

2. Is this environment, your environment and your personal views, safe for my grandson and other young children?

3. Is this a situation other parents should be aware of?

4. Do you have personal issues with Carey or his mother?

At this time, we are requesting a meeting with you, the school’s principle and superintendent, to address and discuss these issues and more. Where do we go from here?

What is the school’s policy on a teacher voicing their personal opinions on other sensitive topics such as religion, sex, and race, particularly, and especially when considering young impressionable minds?

We are concerned and troubled by the moral, emotional and ethical issue that lay before us.



/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////


Okay yawl, what do you think?

Would your emotions have run wild if you were confronted with this issue?

Some have said they would have taken off work and preceded straight to the school.

Is this not a big deal?

What words would you have used?

What demands (if any) would you request?

Would you be upset?

One of his aunts called me back 5 times to vent her anger.

What about you, what would you do?

Liar Liar Pants On Fire.




It's Crow-eatin' time.

Based on the above title, it's probably obvious that a boo-boo has raised it's ugly head. Carey, my grandson, told a lie.

If you have not been following along, I have a short recap. Last week, my grandson, who is six years old, informed the family that his teacher said Santa Claus didn't exist. Well, for various reasons, that did not hit the feel-good part of my brain. So, I sent off a harsh letter to his teacher and the school's superintendent.


No You Didn't Say That To My Grandson!






Now, as the world turns, it's time for me to jack-up my slacks and see what went wrong. But first, an apology was in order. Since I am not a writer, more so a storyteller, I reached out to a blog friend to help me compose a letter that would convey my true feelings without sounding negro-notorious. The letter follows


Hello Ms [Teacher}

As you know, Carey told a lie. His actions were not the act of a future psychopath-in-training, children lie. The smaller, the younger they are, it has to be accepted as a natural part of childhood. Unfortunately, I made my move to soon. It should be understood that it's not so unusual nor unusual for the bigheads to fib.


Consequently, I return to you with a heavy heart. I must ask of you, in my most humble request that you please to accept my apology for the letter I previously sent to you. It was written in both anger and disappointment upon the news, given to me by my grandson, that his teacher TOLD him there was no Santa Claus. It was only upon further investigation that I've since learned the child blatantly reported an untruth to us. This, in itself, is a cause for concern, as he has been taught to NEVER tell a lie. And, yet, he did. It's quite possible, that, as children do, he may have heard other kids speaking of Santa Claus, questioning the validity, or even debunking the reality of such a beloved childhood icon, and then he came way believing it to be a myth. Had he only came to us with his questions, as opposed to assigning the blame to you, or any teacher, or adult charged with the supervision and guidance of young minds, then the events that followed would have never transpired. For this, again, I offer my heartfelt apology.

Carey xxxxx, aka, Carey Bailey's grandfather

Well folks, when I first received the news of Lil Carey's misdeed, I was floored. I immediately thought of the poor teacher I had scandalized and if I should've, could've, moved in a different direction?

Having reached out to many of my friends, including "you", my blog readers, who stopped their world before and after the incident, asking for words of advice and wisdom, I am left to wonder, what about a time called now? What's the words for today? Are there any serendipitous rewards on the table? The following was a response.

Carey, you may be over-thinking this, man. Consider the kid's age. Surely people in the education field KNOW this. If he's not someone they see as 'troubled' or has a history of bad behaviors, then it's unlikely that they'll over-react. A show of parental & family concern is more desirable than indifferent, absentee parents & loved ones who don't give a damn & never get involved in a child's schooling. I think it reflects better upon you that you CARED enough to send the letter. The tricky part is this wasn't an incident that happened IN the classroom, so it's not like the teacher can punish him, or take him aside & read him the riot act.

Yes, there's a chance this teacher can become less involved w/your grandson's day to day activities, and less trusting of him. But, you know what? If that proves to be the case, then it would be good to KNOW this now, because then this isn't much a teacher anyway. They are are supposed to be accepting of the ways, imperfections & the issues of those under their tutledge.

Meanwhile, if this remains a real concern of yours, then I would personally request a face to face meeting w/ said teacher. Again, this would demonstrate your love and concern for the child, along with providing you an eye-witness account to gage the attitude of the teacher.

I believe the above is good advice.

Okay, this is where I am at today. I have a hard line position on lying and liars.

Who desires to wear the name, Liar? I will assume that many individuals hate and abhor liars, and consequently, they do not want to be classified as one. Yet, has it become convenient, and accepted behavior, to lie for what some believe to be good intentions?

But wait, first, does everyone lie? I asked that question in another post, and most respondents replied in the affirmative. Well, I was the dissenting voice. I know it's a fact that everyone does not lie.

"Come on Carey, everybody lies".

Nope, that's not true. Besides, how can you prove that? I mean, what compels someone to state something as a fact when it's only their assumption?


Anyway, deceit, in any fashion is the wrecking ball to most relationships. And, in my opinion, it leaves doubt and fear and unrepairable mistrust. The only thing that can support a lie... is another lie. I do not wish to look over my shoulder.


Look, it's a fact that people lie for several reasons. Big or small, short are tall, people lie. A little white lie or a lie by omission, is nevertheless a lie. People are quick to say they lied to protect someones feelings, but in truth, they lied to protect their own feelings. They didn't desire to hear or feel the assumed response, which may have moved them to a very uncomfortable state. Let that simmer.

In the mean-time, I think there are many reasons why some believe there are legitimate reasons one should lie. And, there are many ways to misrepresent the truth. Part of the problem is not everyone agrees with the definition of lying. Yet, facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored or misunderstood. I am sure some believe there are harmless lies. A little white lie, for example, is considered by many to be a harmless fib that is meant to be tactful and polite.

I have a few ideas why some individuals believe it's okay to fib, or even believes there are times a person should lie. Yet, how big is the shade of truth before it's considered a bare face lie. I mean, who makes the call? If it's left up to the individual, lord knows there's a myriad rationalizations and reasons why many think lying is okay. Check this: It's interesting to note that the Fifth Amendment allows someone to refuse comment if such testimony will incriminate him or her.Well, that's lying by omission - or is it? Well, at the very least, it's passive deceit because a person is withholding information or not volunteering the truth. Well, that begs the question... is deceit as harmful as a lie? Well, one time, I had to call "love TKO" because
the deceit and subsequent mistrust that followed, was killing me, just as if someone was kicking me in my ass.

What about a time called now?

Is it okay to lie?

Did I over-react?

Have you experienced a situation in which a child's lie had you scrambling for cover and/or answers?

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

DEBATE BUSTERS & NEGRO BUSTERS


I don't understand. I mean, some debates are never ending stories. Take for instance the debates on what constitutes a good movie, a bad movie, a quality movie or an important movie, where is the scratch line? Not to mention the never-ending debate over the N-word. And, what's in a good book?

I know some people just loves to argue, but some of those debates are like pissing in the wind and stepping in mud. The results are going to leave some type of ugly stain.

Look, I love a good conversation, but I wish there was a polite way to back out of a conversation, or ignore a conversation when someone tries to engage me in discourse that I know is going nowhere.

Well, I've sort of found a way in which we all can bow out gracefully. In our culture, there's a phrase, "playing the nut-role". It's understood to mean feigning ignorance. Now, if we are going to pretend that we don't know WTH a person is talking about, because people speak in all types of languages and codes, we need a hold card. So, instead of shaking our heads in a "I don't know what you're talking about" way, I think flash cards can do the trick.


When a person says some mess that you do not want to talk about, you just flash a card that says....

Spanish: No entiendo

German: Ich verstiendo

Africaans: Ek verstaan nie

French: Je ne comprends pas

Italian: Non capisco

Hatian Creole: Mwen pa konprann

Japanesees: 私は理解していない
Thai: ฉันไม่เข้าใจ

Which all mean, I do not understand


However, there will be the persistent sorts. Then it's on to plan "B". The second card.

French: s'en alien voler, neme derange pas

Spanish: desaparecen de ventanas, no me molesta

German: negfliegen, storen mich nicht

Latin: abire fugientem noli mihi molestus

Which means, Go away fly, don't bother me



By now it's either fight or flight. The "conversation" continues. The talking head debaters strike first.

German: Heck mich am arsch

Irish: pog mo thion

Spanish: besame el culo
Which means (in all languages): Kiss my ass.

The Negro Buster reponds with: Oh yeah, so you want me to kiss your ass, huh? Here's what you can do... Ellwa upidsta, ouya anca itsa ona ita! (*wink* anybody know pig latin?)


There you have it ladies and gentlemen, debate busting 101. Try it, but don't tell anybody I told you so. I just wish I could watch a movie without someone telling me about an alledged evil message within the movie. I want to laugh my butt off without someone saying it's coonery. I don't want to worry about rather or not a movie is important, or if it will be significant in the next 20 years.

And, if I want to say nigga, negro or sambo, I surely don't want someone asking me for my blackness card. Beside, who's to say Shakespeare is better reading than E Lynn Harris and Walter Moseley? If someone wants to find out how Stella got her groove back, they should be able to do that without someone questioning their intelligence.

All money ain't good money, and your good may not look like mine. But in the end, I gotta dance with the lady I took to the ball. Then I'll know we will both be singing satisfied. Do your thang, do what you wanna do, I can't tell you when your basket is full.



Sunday, October 10, 2010

Thursday, October 7, 2010

LOOKING FOR TYLER PERRY: This Somebody Needs A Screenwriter and/or Tyler Perry.




I don't know exactly how to define the story, but it could be considered a story of a black child coming of age, similar to Manchild In The Promise Land or A black 2010 Legends Of The Fall. The story centers on how a young black kid found his love for movies and his journey before, during and after that connection.

I've been writing a book about my life's struggles, and, as I do , several past memories come to mind. I originally was focusing on my life after the age of twenty, but that story (I've come to believe) is for a limited market, as you will see in my following outlines. So I am thinking about restructuring my story to fit a somewhat larger audience. Well, I have a screenplay in mind. I have posted a few of my short, but limited stories, and here are a few more. Check them out. I call them snippets. They all come from larger chapters.... and they are all true.


[First] I never told my father this but I’m gonna tell you. As young boys, my brothers and I were allowed to go 2 places without question and without asking; the local ballpark and the library. However, on my way to a place called Diamond Park, I frequently stopped at the Rialto Theater. No, not to watch a movie but to play bingo. Well, actually I had the grand title of Bingo Number Boy. See, back then there were not electronic boards, so I stood atop a pile of busted down chairs in front of the theater. The theater’s owner, an old Jewish fella, called out a number, I then searched for the number in an old cardboard box. When I found it, I hung it on a wall. When my father thought I was at Diamond Park being the bat boy for the Morocco fast-pitch softball team, I was instead fast-pitching numbers in the Rat Hole. I was The Bingo Number Boy. And now they have Luke Gage, a black comic book character (going to the big screen) and a Black Thor. He too moving to the moving to the movie theater. Damn, I need a screenwriter.


OOOH YEAH, there’s a lot more to that story. First, it was the gateway to my love of movies. And, back then, there was not a ratings system(naughty-naughty). And, there was cash prizes on bingo night. The Bingo Boy (me) had a chance to make a little extra(sometimes huge for a young boy) money because he knew what prizes to pick. The lucky winner thought it was a secret between me and them, but actually, I told as many people as I could, that if they won, they should keep their eyes on me, as they strolled to the front of the theater to pick their prize from the assortment that were lined across the stage (in boxes). I then could steer them to the biggest prize. Then, of course, I got my cut. Free popcorn, free movies, sex in the balcony (grown folks of course) and cash in my pockets… those were the daze.


[another] for some strange reason, I thought of Abel Ferrara, the director of Bad Lieutenant fame. I remember meeting that guy when he was promoting that film. He was wild and so was his crew. So maybe that’s why I connected him with a movie like the Klansman. He was wearing a black hat with the words “Bad Lieutenant” across the front and I had on a Jordan hat (J.O.R.D.A.N in red letters, some remember those days). I asked if he had anymore hats like that. He said to come by his room (at his hotel) and he’d give me one. Now remember, he was with a wild “suspect” crowd and there was no way in hell I was going to get caughtup in a drug bust so I passed. But check this, he took my hat off my head, replaced it with his broke down hat and slammed my Jordan on his “questionable” head. I mean, who puts on another person’s hat? My mother told me never to use another kids comb or his brush, because rigworms hide in hair. Now, being that I cared little or nothing about his status, I said, "hey mfer, what the fu*k are you doing, give me my goddamn hat". I later went over to talk with Harvey Keitel and is new wife. He was the star of Bad Lieutenant.

[another] Our local rat hole (movie house) cost less than a dollar. Yelp, 2 features and a cartoon in the middle. Popcorn was a nickle (big box 25 cents) and pop was a dime. But you didn’t want to go to the restrooms because they were a filty mess. You know, the type in which sitting down would never be an option. Oh but the memories. How can I forget watching The Three Stoogies On Mars, at the Rialto, fondly known as the Rat Hole.



And remember, the above and the following are all true stories; I lived them.

[another] I heard the shot... I felt the combustion... a loud thunderous roar ....it felt as if air was trying to force it's way through my head. Six told me that no one would be shot, we were only taking guns to scare them. I'd seen people shot on television but it was nothing like that. Blood was spurting from the man while he lay crying and moaning on the floor. I was only 18 ....I was involved in a bank robbery and a possible murder.



[another] I entered the bank after giving the appearance of a man shoveling snow outside. Bank robbery is relatively simple ....there are seldom guards. It's the escape and entrance that harbored my concerns because outside pedestrians and survalance cameras hold memories. And sometimes, the common man loves to play hero. After placing my shovel outside the door, I entered the bank and without saying a word I handed the tellers a large bag, suggesting that they should fill it. One clerk fell to the floor ....she was too scared and weak to comply. The other ....with eyes widened, trembling from shock and fear, stumbled through the process. I was covered from head to toe ....they couldn't tell if I was a man or a woman, white or black ....I walked out. As you know that was not my first bank robbery.



[another]At an early age I witnessed the small nuances between tricks and the women that served them. Everyone enjoys the touch of another and many need to feel as if they belong. I learned that men who paid for the company of women didn't do so merely for sex. They needed to feel like they were a match for the women ....that she may even like them. The women did not have to be beautiful ....many were not. Eva, barely 5'5" and overweight, wasn't in many opinions an overly attractive woman, yet, she was clean, she was sweet and clean, smelled delightful, and always carried a smile. She was perfect for a man that wasn't looking for a wife but needed a little attention.


[another]Smooth was cool, he wasn't like the winos that everyone poked fun at. He dressed sharp and everyone wanted to be like him. People said he wasn't a junkie ...but he used Narcotics. Smooth was the talk of the town ....all the women loved him ....I would later find out why. I wanted to be like smooth but I couldn't. I already had a family and I didn't even smoke cigarettes. My brother Carl was a wrestler, a state champ. He told me that he was good because he worked harder than others at his craft. He got up earlier than others .....no one knew what he was doing. He did it his way. I latched onto that idea. I was young ....the world was in front of me and I wanted it all. I wanted to be cool like smooth, a family man like my father, tough as my brothers and go to college. Women whispered their pleasures to me and I entertained the possibilities. College was fertile ground for young attractive women. Cool was in me ....it had touched my soul. I was about to travel a road that I could never have imagined ....no one told me ....they didn't know.


[another]The US military is one of the largest vehicles for drug smuggling in the world. You've seen the movie American Gangster, well, from my personal experience, I can say that much of that story is true. Rita was my friend.... my lover and my company. She agreed to come along on a dangerous trip after receiving a promise of adventure. She was very attractive... stunning... movie star quality.... she liked me. While passing through the gates of the Air Force base. Rita's face showed the look of impending doom. The officer ordered everyone out of the vehicle ....a search was about to take place and we were very "dirty". Earlier, we were in a village in the southern part of the Philippine Islands.... it was called the jungle ....an area frequented by blacks who were accepted by the locals. It was a humid day ....the sun was bright ....Rita and I were filled with excitement. She was from Virginia and had not traveled much ....she trusted me. We were free and fear was not our companion. Prior to our journey we talk about the future and the dangers of our travel. I carefully questioned her on the what-if's and the possible roadblocks ahead. The officer again said to vacate the vehicle ..... Rita went to work. With a charming and suductive smile on her face....


[another]My life spiraled out of control for several years, one day, in the midst of what I like to call a storm, I called my mother for help.... she said that she had given it to god and suggested that I pray.... I didn't have a relationship with god at that time and was very depressed about my situation.... I nevertheless sent a weak prayer to god and things changed. I didn't know how to pray ....yet I knew I couldn't continue along this path.... I sat in my cell and asked God for help and guidence. Some have said that there are no time stamps on prayers.... I waited. I am here today.... grateful and alive. My mother told me that although I didn't have a relationship with god at that time... he had never left me. I've come to believe that to be true.

NEXT: Here’s another very short one: When I was a kid, we lived in the projects. My father told us that one day he was going to buy a house with a basement. In the basement, he was going to build a gym. He did that. Well, it wasn’t a big gym, in fact, it was nothing more than a few items like a bunching bag and small weights, but we loved it. My father screwed in a spring resistance thang in a support beam. It was a used item that my father purchased from the Salvation Army, so there wasn’t much resistance but we made it work. My father said if I stood back far enough and worked that thing long enough, I would eventually see some results. Okay, I had faith in my father’s words, so for days and days, for hours and hours, I pulled on that contraption. One day I noticed a little bump on my arm. It was a muscle! Years later, I had gun boats (huge arms).Many more years later, I bought a home, and I had a gym in my basement. To make a long story short, take a look at my son’s arms. (picture not available in this medium), the apple did not fall far from the tree.


[And another] Daddy’s little Girl: I've always thought being a man was about being tough and strong. I put a great deal of emphases on providing for my family and protecting them. I believe it's safe to say most fathers... real fathers feel the same way. Looking back... the hardest thing for me to do on a continual basis was share my emotions. I gave my family most things that I thought would be beneficial for their survival. Yet I sometimes wonder if I gave them all the tools necessary to endure the long haul of life. I now look back and wonder if I gave them all of me. It would be easy to take the less painful road and say it's not about me. I could blame everybody and everything.... I could open the door to excuses. Yet, I've come to believe that escape hatch would be closing the door on growth. How does one prepare for the departure of their only daughter. In many ways my daughter was a bond that kept my family together. She was an integral part of my family unit. She was not planned... her mother and I were kids playing house and she became pregnant while we were in high school. We married and struggled as young parents... We shared dreams and spent many days and nights preparing our daughter for the day I will never forget. Being a young fathe..... I was just like the birds and the four legged animals that had to find safety in a tree. I could change my spots to look like a man and talk like a man but I wasn't a man. I seldom reached inside to find the soul of a man. I had always mimicked my father ....he was a great influence on my life .....I watched his moves but I never saw his tears. When I became a boy with a child, I was scared and insecure .....I masked my fears and shoved those emotions behind. I thought it wasn't manly to show fear .....I found it hard to admit that I didn't know how to handle certain things. I was about to leave my daughter on the steps of a large University .....with strangers. My daughter had never seen me cry .....my wife had never seen me cry.... in truth, after leaving my parents home... I had never cried. I thought back to the day my father told me to leave his home and go raise my family..... I remember his pain... I now was sharing those same emotions. I wondered if I was making the right decision, or was I living through my daughter by suggesting she go to a large University far away from home, when she could have gone to a local college with similar benefits... did I think her chances of being an Olympic star were greater... living my dream?My wife and I were about to leave our daughter at her new home.... The University of Kentucky. We were proud yet fearful.... I was her track coach. I had accompanied her on most of her trips. My wife would always be by my side.... assisting as mothers do.... she even ran along during training... we used her as a rabbit. My daughter would spot her yardage and try to beat her to the line. My son was along... he was just joyful of the promise of a Happy Meal. My daughter was a high school and national age group champion .....she now was going to Kentucky ....A College National Champion. In many ways my wife and I didn't plan for this day. Sure, we planned for our daughters new day but not our lives together, without our little girl. The days were gone when we would nudge one another to see who would change her diaper or pick her up from practice. There would be no more loading of the car... the four of use for family trips to wonderful cities. What would my wife and I do when we didn't have our daughter around? Someone we felt we had to stand guard over. Was this like retirement? Was I retiring from being daddy and she daddy's little girl.I couldn't fake this one ....I couldn't change my spot from a sad, insecure and fearful father to one that appeared as if he had it all together.... this was real. Emotions flooded me.... I looked at my wife for answers.. her eyes and posture told me that she too had visited a dark place. Emotions I seldom dealt with, invade my soul.... rationalization and ambiguous thought were no match for the pains I was feeling.I was the leader of the family. As we got closer to the moment of goodbyes.... I again looked in the eyes of my wife... and with some reserve and trepidation .....I looked into the eyes of my daughter.... they both were looking for answers from their leader. That was a defining moment in my life. At that moment I think I became closer to being a real man... I lost it... I cried... I couldn't talk, I cried. I showed my vulnerability.... I didn't have all the answer and I didn't know anything else to do.

[another] Baby momma drama... If a women has children by different men what is she? Some are quick to call her a scank or a ho. Others might say she's a woman of low principles. Let me tell you a story and I'll tell you what I call them. I have a definition that's counter to the popular opinion.This story is about a man and a women that fell in love. Do you like a good love stories - I do. Like most love stories there's a beginning, a middle and the end. This story begins with a man that had lived a few years and a young beautiful black women that was just leaving her nest. They met in the military; he a fast talker, slick walker. She was a young innocent girl out to see the world. He had a history. In fact, he was denied entry into one branch of the military because of past criminal behavior. He was young but the streets called him at an early age. Being of a criminal mind and no ones fool, he found a way to slip into a different branch of the armed forces.Since he considered himself a lover and not a fighter and wasn't going to shoot at anyone, he wiggled his way into the cool confines of office life. He felt like one of the Beverly Hillbillies ....swimming pools, movies stars AND air conditioning. Life was good, he had a first hand view of all the new women that arrived on the base. Aside from greeting them at the door, their records preceded them. At first he felt kind of funny looking at their past but he rationalized that it was his job to make sure all their records were in order - it was one of his jobs.He came from the streets so he'd witnessed all the pimps and hustlers trying to lay their magic on women but his thang was different. An old player told him that women love sincere men that make them smile. So his thang was sincerity with a smile and a pinch of dishonest ....just a pinch. He knew that most women felt isolated in the military and longed for home. Well, while looking through their records to see if they had any ...ahhh, any ...ahhh, things he didn't want to catch, he also looked to see what high school they went to and the city they were from. He was a cleaver old fox. While greeting them at the door he would extend his hand and then quickly pull it back with a startled look and say, "Helen Lampkin, German Town High School, women you haven't changed one bit". The ice was broken, the women was comfortable with her lost and found homie. Now, he still had work to do but friends before lovers was the name of the game and two friends had found each other on a lonely military base.


One such women tweaked his heart along with his love of hide and go seek. She was a city girl that walked with a long stride that said, I know I look good and you can't have any. Her shoulders were back and her chin was slightly tipped up. She had heard all the lines. Women like that don't have to sleep alone. The old wolf knew he had to come with a new game. He decided just to be sincere without any lies. He told her what he generally did when anticipating a new arrival but that he just want to be straight up with her. He told her that he just wanted to meet her and he didn't want to start a friendship off with a lie. She paused and asked him if he looked in her medical records. He looked deep into her eyes and told her that he had not - he lied but the relationship blossomed :-). Hey, he was a wolf, okay.


Life was good, they were the talk of the base. They drove around in a brand new block long Oldsmobile Ninety Eight that she helped him pay for. They yelled out the windows at the other soldiers and turned up their music to blast Marvin Gay .....what's going on .....what's going' on.They were in love. There was only one problem. This wolf turned serious lover had another lover - back home ...a child too.I went in the military to start a new life. But as my mother would say, if you play with a puppy, it will lick you in the face. My father's version was, if you sit in a barbershop you will eventually get a haircut. I fathered a child as a teenager and her mother was waiting for me back home. We had planned a life together yet I was in the arms of another women. I was hesitant about telling this part of my story because there remains a sense of guilt that I hurt others by my selfish ways. The shame and guilt goes away when I address the issues and honestly accepted my wrongdoings. When I jacked up my slacks and said I messed up, I can then move on. But to share my story and my pain with others is a new journey. The road is tough when the fingers of fault are pointing directly at me. However, I've grown tired of many depicting mothers with children by different men as some sort of women with flawed character or low morals. I was involved with two wonderful women that just happened to run into a guy like me. While playing house with my new lover we brought another child into the world. I wasn't man enough to tell either of the women about each other so I maintained two separate lives. I was close enough to my home town that I could drive home when I choose to do so. I lived this lie for 2 years until everything came tumbling down. I had become so comfortable with living like this that I even drove my second family to my parents home to let them visit with their new grandchild. I put them in an awful position. My father would give me the look of deep concern and ask me what the hell I was doing. My mother was force to take the route of don't ask don't tell. Everyone paid a price when the news broke.


After visiting my parents one weekend, I decided to stop at a local horse racing track on my way out of town. My skills at picking winners wasn't very good so I decided to leave after the 5th race. I was with Rita* (*name changed) and my son. As we approached the car a voice said, "how are you doing Carey", it was Debbie*, the mother of my first child. She had a gun in her hand, a 2 shot derringer. I was stunned, I walked toward her. My son ran behind me saying daddy daddy. He didn't know there was danger, he just couldn't understand why I was walking off from him.At that moment my life changed and so did the lives of many others.


In short y'all, I have stories of all kinds. I have childhood stories, crime stories, lost love stories, young fatherhood stories, drug abuse stories, gun play stories, work place stories, drug smuggling stories, seeing death stories, incarceration stories, pimp stories, my family stories, love stories, church stories, loneliness & depression stories, overseas stories, blogging stories, lessons I've learn stories, life in the military stories, racism stories, self-discovery stories, grandchildren stories, my education stories, did I say love stories, shame and guilt stories, all true stories... more stories... All on paper (all, I believe, are more exciting and interesting than the ones above}. I need help. I need help to shape, condense, restructure, explode, open, give breath & voice to the images of the stories, so that maybe one day the whole story, complete story... from the child in the old movie theater, through fatherhood, war and love, pain and dispare.... to a time called now.... that can one day be seen on the big screen.

Any comments, help or concern?

Has anyone seen Tyler Perry or a good aspiring screenwriter?