Random Thoughts

Ready? It's time for another edition of "Random Thoughts".

Instructions: Read each thought. Some you may not agree with. Some you may or may not get, depending on how in tune with my life you are. (And really, if you get everything, you're a little scary and I think we need some time apart.) You all tucked in? Heeeeere we go...


I just want to learn spanish so I can sing salsa songs and get it. When Latinos sing salsa songs (especially the slow ones) don't they look like they are saying something really DEEP? Hell..even when they are reciting reaggaeton. I know the beat is hot, but the lyrics? I know it has something to do with being proud to be Puerto Rican (because all the songs have that in them...) but how proud are you? I wann know. Or at least sound convincing when I say that part in "Hips Don't Lie". You know...towards the end.... when Shakira says "Mira en Barranquilla se baila así!". Cuz that shit just sounds hot. Yeah. That's why I want to learn it. But let's be clear. This does not mean I want to understand J.Lo's new album. Whining is whining in any language. Her husband...now THAT mutherfucker BLOWS. (In the black way...not the white way. Not "bad" meaning "bad" but "bad" meaning "good". You hip?) Anyway...yeah Mark blows...and I want to know what he's saying. And when he's banging out Jenny, does he whisper in her ear in spanish? (It happened to me once. I HIGHLY recommend this.) And when she says "Ay"...(because you have to when a Puerto Rican is banging you out...trust me.) ...does she now try to sound like Beyonce' and Shakira on "Beautiful Liar."? I would.

AND I want to be in on the joke when George Lopez does stand up. Listen to it. You'll see what I mean.

I just want to learn guitar because when I'm sad, I want to strum that shit and sing a song that matches my mood. I also want to learn as many kid songs as possible because Jayla and Vanessa are three, and to them...when I finish playing "Wheels On The Bus"...I'll be a fucking ROCK STAR. My next door neighbor is my teacher, but on ice right now and his wife avoids me...which is awkward, because I'm avoiding her at the same time. And we both know it.

Shakira sounds like shit in English.

I think the prescription in my new glasses is too strong, but I refuse to take them off becuase they look fucking great. And I realize that I only did this shit(got glasses) because I need a drastic change...which is why I get my braces next week. (Don't ask why I'm getting braces. You know why. Let's not play this game.) So it's either braces and glasses, or a tattoo on my arm and I shave my head. But the latter is so Britney Spears.

Twenty-Six songs come on the Motown 1's cd. Now, the funny thing about Motown is you never want to hear it when you conciously make a decision to play it. You only want to hear it when you stumble on that shit. OK...except "The Temptations" and "Four Tops". That shit is good no matter what. Especially "Ain't Too Proud To Beg". ("I KNOW you wanna leave me...but I refuse to let you go..." SING THAT SHIT DAMN IT! Will somebody go find "The Funk Brothers" STAT!

Amy Winehouse is the closest we've come. Sad.

Yo Momma's so fat when the Lord said, "Let there be light..." ...and there wasn't any, He sucked his teeth, looked at yo Momma and said, "Move Bitch!"

The next time I do karaoke...I'm doing "Shout". And I dare you not to join in. Triple Dog Dare you. (Name that movie.)

Love is not an act of will. So doing stupid shit in the name of it is quite beyond your control. You can't start love, or end it whenever you want it. Trust me. Had I been able to fall in love when I wanted to, with who I wanted to... I wouldn't be working right now. Church.

Who came up with "Church"? My bet is Snoop.

NOW WAAAAAAAAAAIT A MINUTE! I FEEL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLL RIIGHT.... (wait for it...)





YOU KNOW YOU MAKE ME WANNA.....

KICK MY HEELS UP AND ...

THROW MY HEAD BACK AND ....

THROW MY HANDS UP AND ...

HEYYY-EH-AAAYYYYY....

...want me to keep going...don't you?



White people don't know they are white. OK...some of them do. But most of them don't. Crazy, right? Because everyone who isn't white is fully fucking aware they are not. ALL DAY.

I officically have a headache thanks to my glasses. But they are Vera Wang. I'm ruining my eyes for fashion. I'm turning into a gay man.

...a little bit softer now...


a little bit softer now...
a little bit softer now...
a little bit softer now...


..A LITTLE BIT LOUDER NOW...
A LITTLE BIT LOUDER NOW...
A LITTLE BIT LOUDER NOW...



..and I love Jude. Go to Paris baby. America doesn't appreciate you.

-Nye

How To Be Black This Week

My given name is Nyree Taratibu-Daima Emory. My mother gave me this name and I like it. Actually, I like it alot. (The chick who fitted me for eye-glasses...her name was Millicent.

(beat)

Like I said, I like my name...a lot.

You know what I really like about it? Whenever I hear "Wow. That's pretty. Where is that from?" and I hit them with "New Zealand". HA!! Take THAT!(Insert the "Wow. That's not African?" look here.) I tend to follow it up with the story of "Nyree Dawn Porter", whom which every Nyree born within the last 35 years is familiar.
She's an actress...and long story short...my Moms bit her name. I'm not mad at it.

Now, the Taratibu-Daima part, well, we can blame that on a pot-smoking, post-'Nam vet loveable cat I like to call my father. My paternal aunt Maurica was seeing an African, and since black people were fresh off of the Civil Rights movement, my father wanted me to have an African name. And he was high. So mystery African pulled "Taratibu-Daima" out his ass, and had my father not been out banging some chick that lived in Parkchester while my mother was pushing me out (true story..I met her. But that's another post...) there's a chance that my first name would be "Taratibu-Damia". And I'm pretty sure he would have held me up in the air butt-ass naked as an infant and said, "Taratibu-Daima. Behold...the only thing greater than yourself." (Like I said, he smoked a lot of pot back in the day, I'm sure it would have happened.)

Now "Taratibu-Daima" actually does mean something. "Everlasting Peace", or so I was told. Every African I've asked has never heard of these words...stating "must be a dialect I'm not familiar with." So it could very well mean, "Neice of American Bootie Call", but I prefer to be optimistic.

Why all the set-up Nye? This is why.

Sunday night, I started watching "Roots" on TV One. Now, I'm pretty sure you've seen it...and so did I...however, I was four years old. The only images I could remember were the following:

1)Kunta in a net.
2)Kunta eating some white stuff out of his hands.
3)Kunta dancing on a ship.
4)Kunta being whipped till he said his name was "Toby".
5)Louis Gosset Jr.'s bad teeth.
6)James Evans getting his foot chopped off.

So I get through night one and the whole thing is pretty familiar, right? Kunta gets caught and strapped on to a ship, preparing for the Middle Passage. I know all this. It's fine. I'm used to it. However, I'm now at an age where I can understand complex English. So the images are familiar, however, the dialouge? Brand fucking new.
For instance, the heartwarming Middle Passage phrase, "we use the nigger wenches for crew relief". ("Nigger wench" translated for modern times is "Nappy Headed Ho", just so you're aware. Ahem.)

So anyway, I watch the whole episode, and I'm bothered, but it's the usual "bothered". Nothing I'm unaccustomed to. Then I come to work and have to deal with this Don Imus shit.

I'm not going to get into it, but the asshole lost his MSNBC gig behind it. Good. Great. However, I had a day long email discussion that spilled over into an evening discussion at home that lead right into the second night of "Roots"...which I refused to watch. I wanted something light. That's right. "Dancing With The Stars."

Now, Laila Ali goes first, and she's good. Not as great as she's been before, but good. She gets shitty marks. I'm subconciously screaming "racism", but keeping it cool. I just dealt with slave raping and Imus in the last 24hrs. Don't take it personally Nye.

BUT THEN... Clyde Drexler gets shitty marks. I mean, he gets a "4"...which is un-fucking-heard of!!! So now, I'm just WAITING on Billy Ray Cyrus right, because this man moves as if he's autistic. And during the pasa doble... he does exactly what I thought he was going to do. He silently counts...he fucks up his foot work...flailing arms like a dying chicken od'ing on a gram of coke. So I think...OK. He's going to get shitty marks to...and that motherfucker gets "7"'s across the board!! So I turn to TV One. Fuck this...I'm watching "Roots".

And so I did. And the replay to catch everything I miss. And I get some more goodies...like "Breeding Wenches", "Nigger Gossip" and a few great groveling scenes that sorta went like "No boss! Toby be a good nigger for massa! You see! Toby be a good nigga boss!" with big wide grins on James Evans. JAMES EVANS kid! That's like seeing your father on the ground begging and shit...ooh, I'm mad.

So the next day, I grab my copy of "Voices From Slavery" and start reading some narratives on my way to work. And I can't lie, though I did come across some where the former slaves were treated well...I skimmed them. Who wants to hear about how "Massa sho was good. Us had plenty to eat, and new shoes every winter."? Not me. That just pissed me off, more so than the narratives about those who got whipped and had salt rubbed in the wounds...then left in the sun. (No lie.)
I was probably pissed because these slaves had no idea they weren't being treated well no matter how many shoes they got..because, um...hello... they were SLAVES.

So I'm on the Metro North and I'm hot and everytime I see someone trying to peek at my book title, I close it so my fellow passenger gets a good look at the title. That's fucking right.

I'm walking through Grand Central Station, and no longer do I see the random faces in the crowd that I ignore every morning. Suddenly, I'm fully fucking aware that I'm a decendant of slaves (who couldn't do shit about it), walking amongst decendants of slave owners. And I get angrier. Because NOW, I'm thinking, this sense of entitlement whites have is begat from their former status as slave owners and on a very elementary level, most still believe that shit. So now... I'm a lip curl and moan away from growling.

I get to work...and my next door neighbor says, "What's up Yo?" and he's not black.
Nothing new. It happens every day, but today, I HEAR it...and dig my nails into my flesh to prevent myself from going in his office and saying in my best Bobby DeNiro, "OHHH!...Paisan. You mouilan now? Then stop talking like us already! Fuggetabout it!!".

But I don't. Nor do I leave my office much. Especially so I don't have to talk to th co-worker who shared her family had "so much more" until the slaves on the plantation revolted. To which I replied, "Well, maybe if ya'll treated them better, they wouldn't have revolted." She laughed. I wasn't trying to be funny.

Back home...at 8pm. The next installment of "Roots".

Now in this one, Kunta has all the "run" beat out of him. He's old. He's broken. His daughter "Kizzy" (which means "stay put" in Mandika) is taught to read by Sandy Dunkin, and helps her man escape. Dude gets caught, confesses Kizzy forged a slave pass and Kizzy gets sold off. That bitch didn't even unpack and Massa rapes her while Helen Willis cleans her wounds. Kizzy then becomes...guess what? An "angry black woman", while her coon-ass son Chicken George dances and smiles.

At this point, I'm just sick. Yeah, men had it hard, but the women. DAMN. We were getting raped left and right and had no choice.

So I thought about it ya'll.

Like I said, I like my name. What if...at some point, some dude from, I don't know,
Kazakstan snatched me up on my way to work, strapped my ass to the bottom of a boat for three months, in which I was raped on a regular, forbade me to speak English, called me "Binti" and kept on raping me till I got knocked up. Then put me to work...
everyday...all day. Or just made me a "breeder". Or my owner's "Nigger wench"?

I used to hear about all of the mess going on in Africa and say, "Thank God for slavery" as a joke. I now realize that saying that, is a slap in the face to every woman in my maternal linage, from my mother...all the way up to that one young girl who survived being snatched away from her family in Africa, being raped repeatedly on a boat for well over three months, and then raped some more. She was so...unbelievable strong ...because she fucking SURVIVED it. Wow.

So from this day forth, you will not hear the word "Nigger" escape my lips. Nor will I tolorate mockery of my people from anyone else. ESPECIALLY my own. I hold my own more accountable than any other race. Oh...and if I hear "the N word", I will politely ask the person to say "Nigger" or nothing at all. If you are just using it to reference with no harm intended, there should be no shame in saying it. Should there?

And no, I'm not all of a sudden hating white people guys. They have nothing to do with the bullshit their ancestors put my ancestors through, so we can call it even and move on from this point. And I'm not an "angry black woman" either. It happened. I'm sure the Japanese, Irish and the Jews can meditate on what happened with their people as well and be quite pissed off too. Quite. Sure, the recovery time varies, but injustice has been done. So let's just say I'm a little more...aware now. And it feels fucking great.

So like I said, I love my name. It think it fits me. My parents gave me my name, and I'm very proud of it....(even if it does mean "New Zealand African American Bootie Call". Ha. Ha.) I'm also fully aware that I'm a hybrid of two or more cultures...be it by rape or consent. No need to be angry about it... because, hell, I'm here. And that's not because of Massa being in the slave quarter...that's because Charles and Loretta got hot in the pants, got busy and decided to ignore the "Roe Vs. Wade" verdict. (THANKS AGAIN!!)

Part Four is tonight. Check it out if you get a chance.

...Or at LEAST vote for Clyde Drexler....cuz that Billy Ray Cirus pasa doble was bullshit.

-Nye

This Did Not Happen On My Birthday

I just want to thank my friends. All of them...for not letting this happen on my birthday. And knowing you guys...had the Koreans granted us access to the
RIGHT room...it was possible. (Blow up doll not included.)
Thank you guys for a fantastic bday. Love you all...
-Nye

Respect My Gangsta

Scored 19 out of 20 on my permit.

Warning: Stay off the roads.

-Nye

PS..

Shervon (my sister and driving nemisis...) has a film entered in a film festival.

Here are the details.

Hell yes I'll be there...and I hope you will too. Come on. Support a sista. Especially mine.


The BE Underground Film Festival
Title: Rush
Place: The Park Avenue Screening Room
Address: 500 Park Avenue on the SW corner of 59th Street
Time: 7-9pm
Date: May 2
Price: $10
Train: A, E, N, R, W, 4, 5, 6

website: http://www.befilm.net/