The Omega Squad: The Kidara Chronicles (An Excerpt)

 A few weeks back in the "Share My World" post, I mentioned that I was working on two novels/books/short stories, hell whatever they are right now lol, one of which is a fantasy-based tale about a band of rebels (a.k.a The Omega Squad), fighting against an evil supernatural dictator named Magus Daivat, who took advantage of the people's fragile mental state following the merciless reign and death of Emmanuel, a ruthless, megalomaniac king. Daivat has stolen the essence of humanity--creativity, sensuality, intelligence, diversity etc.,-- away from the world by sucking the life force out of humans in exchange for eternal life. The Squad believes the key to defeating Daivat is finding his counterpart Kidara, a ferociously sensual and powerful counterpart unknowingly created in the wake of his rise to power. 

In this excerpt, the heroine Nioma Maxwell has just waken up after a near fatal night of battling Lumina, former humans turned demonic immortals, and encounters some other nightmare creatures on her way to a strategy meeting with the Omega Squad.

Now I may or may not be an artist, but as Ms. Badu once said, I'm sensitive about my shit! So enjoy and be kind:).

***

The blaring alarm clock woke Nioma up. She groaned and sat up, wiping fresh tears from her eyes as she stumbled her way into the bathroom. Pushing her long black hair away from her face, she studied herself in the mirror. The scar that had almost been her death sentence less than 8 hours before seemed to be healing quite nicely. Her mood lightened, she tied her hair back in a bun and placed a warm towel on her face for a few minutes, then made her way to the kitchen to complete the rest of her morning ritual.

For some, a morning facial is simply a beauty ritual. But for Nioma it was a form of meditation. Holding her face over the now boiling pot, she took in a deep, engulfing breath as if it were her first gasp of air. Filled with the usual ingredients of honey, shea butter, a hint of mint and chamomile--the steam also contained her ecstasies--blessed herbs, charms and ointments that would boost her physical and mental abilities.

As the steam glided over her face, she could feel the ecstasies working their magic, the intoxicating fragrances working into the smallest pores of her skin. Intense feelings of calm and hyper awareness overtook her, while the havoc last night's attack wreaked on her body melted away. Closing her eyes, her body seemed to lift from the small table at which she sat, floating through the upper floors of the complex and out towards the sky. If she concentrated just hard enough, the seemingly endless miles of cracked, desolate earth and run down, grimy buildings almost seemed restored to their former glory. Adding those extra splashes of sensua and coporeal seeds was a wise decision. Besides, even with the strenuous day that lay ahead, it was always good to treat yourself, she figured. "Just because I'm living in this shitshack doesn't mean I have to look like a bag lady," she said to herself while spreading face cream across her cheeks.

The belt of her hot pink silk robe trailing behind her, Nioma settled into bed, flicking on the TV. The usual morning political debates, or rather shouting matches, were on. "There is no way this country is ever gonna move forward unless we stop this abuse of power. Destroying life staves from is unnatural. I don't care what the benefits are. Killing is killing," a bloated, balding representative from the Divina party said, his face practically seething with anger. Liberators want to run this nation into the ground!"

"So you would rather stop advances that have the potential save our children, and your children's children from deadly for the sake of small organs that may never be used," the Liberator said, a smug smirk on his handsome face. "Am I the only who wants to see this guy's high school diploma?"

"Typical elitist, pro-drug, anti-family, pro-choice attitude. If we follow your party's plan, there'll be chaos and hedonism in the streets. You've completely forgotten this country's roots. Gaudia was founded on the Daivat's principles. His words, His way. Real Gaudians know that. May He have mercy on this country, cause we're going to hell in a handbasket."

"Why do you watch this shit," a groggy voice laying onside of Nioma said. She turned to see the face of Layla, her wild mane of light brown dreadlocks slightly covering her small, soft light brown face, lightly sprinkled with freckles on her cheeks. "You know it's one of his tools."

"I know," Nioma said tensely, her gaze totally focus on the TV. "But it's good to know what everyone else is talking about. It gives clues to what tricks he's got up his sleeve," Nioma said. "Excuse me," Layla said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Don't you wanna she what I've got up my sleeve," she asked snuggling closer. Nioma didn't respond, but simply stared at the flickering television screen. Undaunted, Layla planted a small kiss on her full lips, parting them gently with her tongue as she giggled, kissing her hard and passionately.

Two years they had been together. It was Layla, one of those who decided to runaway with the rebels that fateful day, who'd helped Nioma climb out of the deep depression she found herself in when they first arrived in Razion. For the first few months, she had nightmares about her mother's death, trying in vain to turn away at the moment she saw her life end and always waking up in a cold sweat. Layla too knew about loss, with her father Jared, general of Memora's army, being killed by Emmanuel. The two young women bonded over grieving fathers they'd barely begun to know.

Layla's hands were now making their way up Nioma's slinky nightgown, the tips of her fingers grazing her inner thigh. Nioma moaned  as she felt her lover's warm mouth kiss her neck and her breasts, opening her eyes slightly to catch a glimpse of her tongue cascading over her now erect nipples. "Baby we gotta get ready for the strategy meeting," Nioma said in a breathy tone, just as Layla was about take her exploration further south, "C'mon Ni-Ni," she replied. "We got time for a quickie." Suddenly she felt two slender fingers enter her. Slowly they worked their way in and out, each stroke deeper than the last. Nioma felt like her body was on fire, rolling her head back in absolute pleasure. She couldn't believe what came out of her mouth next. "Layla, we can't be late for this one....this is Operation Alpha."

Suddenly the exploration stopped. She opened her eyes to see Layla with a slight scowl, arching her eyebrow as she shook her head. "It's always the same deal. Omega Squad comes first. How ironic," she said sarcastically.

"But you know we've been planning this for months. It's gonna to take all of us being on our A-game if we're gonna pull this off. Including you. Remember that." 

"And need I remind you that your ass almost got snuffed out last night," Layla said, her anger rising. "I heard all of that moaning and writhing in the bathroom. If it wasn't for Clarkeil's antidote I'd be looking down at the dirt instead of up at your face. Does that ever cross your mind?"

"We all put our lives in danger everytime we step out the door," Nioma shot back. "It could just as easily be me at your funeral." "But you're the only one who goes on these fucking midnight suicide missions, looking for lumina." Layla was standing up now at the edge of the bed, her hands positioned at her small, curvy hips, tugging slightly at her dark sweat pants. "For all I know you've could've been captured, or worse, turned! You ever think about that shit warrior princess?

"I think about it all the time! Every fuckin' time I step out the door," Nioma shouted. A crystal clear silence engulfed the room. "But I don't care. Because every one of those things I kill, everytime I see the life drain out of their ugly faces, I just I just....." Her voice faltered and her anger gave way to sadness.

Layla's stern expression softened as she walked slowly over to her lover. She gently pushed her hair away from her cheek, cupping her face in her hands. "How long are you going to keep blaming yourself for what he did?" she asked, looking directly into Nioma's watery steel-gray eyes. "You were a child. You didn't know what was going on." It wasn't your fault Ni-Ni. None of this is."

"I know that. In my head I can accept that part," she said, her voice now barely above a whisper. "But I always think back to that day. Thinking if I'd done something differently, or moved just a little bit faster...

"You had another dream didn't you?" Nioma simply nodded. "Baby, did you do everything you could to try to save her? Would you have done anything"

"Yes. Of course. Emmanuel took so much from me. My father. My family. And even though he was already dead, it felt like he stole something else from me. Like that bastard got the last laugh."

"But you saw that smile she gave you right before, well, you know?

"Yeah."

"It sounds to me like she accepted what happened to her. She knew the risk and was willing to take it. She understood that.You gotta let that mess go before it eats you alive. Promise me that. Okay?"

Nioma gave a small smile. "I know. I'm sorry baby. You're right."

"Aren't I always," Layla teased. "Whatever," Nioma said, her mood lightened. "Let's get dressed. We don't want to be late."

"Bitch, do you always have to be so responsible," Layla laughed. Nioma planted a small kiss on her. "You know I'm worth the wait La La," she whispered lustfully as she made her way to bathroom, looking back and winking flirtatiously. "Fine," she said.  "But you owe me."

***

An hour later they found themselves walking the streets of Razion, searching for today's meeting place. Ivana's old palace was out of the question from the start:too obvious. Instead the empty mansions and houses had been ideal, especially when their numbers were small. But as everyday citizens, now refugees, came to city and filled vacant spaces, the spot changed often, as the daystalkers--Daivat spies that were second in command, under the lumina--would sometimes breach the city gates and disguise themselves as vagrants, stalking them to their destination by blending in with the crowds. While not as powerful as their immortal bretheren, daystalkers did possess extraordinary skill and cunning, as the Omega Squad knew all too well.

The close calls had been costly. Now the gatherings took place in decrepit areas like rundown apartment complexes, abandoned hotels or office buildings.

They turned a corner, passing a battered restaurant with windows blown out, the glass scattered across the empty parking lot.Suddenly Layla felt an ice cold chill slide down her spine, slithering over each vertebrae before making a U-turn straight into her gut. She had special gift for recognizing that smell-a rancid odor that was sickly sweet. Nioma soon caught a whiff as well, twisting her nose so much that it looked like it could pop off. Her senses on overdrive due to the ecstasies. They were being followed.

Both women moved swiftly on the cracked sidewalk, slipping by citizens at a brisk pace. Nioma looked back to catch the eye of a brawny man clad in a heavy coat, flannel shirt and ripped jeans, his face covered with thick hair. A black skull cap conceal the rest of his visage, but not enough that she couldn't miss his pupils betray the knowledge he'd been spotted. His partner in crime was more conspicuous: black combat boots covered her feet, while fishnet stockings criss-crossed her legs, traveling up to a tight, patent leather skirt and tattered wifebeater ripped at the waist. Rings and other assorted trinkets covered her hands and neck, while her porcelain face was slathered  with dark, garish makeup that almost drew attention away from her long, dark hair, accentuated by shocking bursts of purple streaks.

Nioma's novala glowed with a bright orange light, telling to them make a sharp right. They were close. They looked back once again. I guess we lost them they both thought as they made a sharp right into a grimy back alley. Around them were a few dumpsters teeming with trash and cockroaches, while the building looked like someone had taken a blowtorch to its side. The rusty stairway seemed covered in some congealed slime that was probably a combination of rust, oil and bird droppings. Suddenly the novala flashed, projected a stream of light towards the door at the top of the steps, revealing the secret OS symbol.

"Damn girl, we need a serious upgrade on these meeting places. Screw the greater good," Nioma chuckled. She didn't hear a response. "Layla?" she said as she turned around. All she saw was pedestrians strolling the sidewalk. "Layla...c'mon now this isn't funny."

'That depends on your definition of funny," a deep, raspy voice said. Nioma spun around to meet the brawny daystalker face to face. "Well ain't this my lucky day," he said, his grin revealing yellow teeth and gold caps.

"Princess Nioma I presume," he exclaimed, the smell of his sickly breath become more pronounced with each step he took towards her. "Magus will be pleased once he hears of your, how should I say.... unseemly demise."

"I have to give it to you. You're smarter than most daystalkers," Nioma said while slowly sliding her hand down her back pocket to reach for her Decadon. "Most of the others don't even know my name. But then again," she said feeling the top of the dagger, "They never live long enough to learn it."

But before she could strike, she heard Layla scream in a panicked voice "Nioma!" She turned a saw the female stalker holding her by the neck, her jagged, razor sharp nails at the ready to slash her neck. Unfortunately the split second diversion was all her male accomplice needed. She felt the violent force of his fist slam against her cheek like a block of cement, sending her flying into the brick wall. "Let's see if you live up to your legend," he roared as he charged toward her like a rabid animal.

Nioma rebounded quickly, side-stepping a punch and giving him roundhouse kick square in the jaw, knocking him off his balance. Seizing the opportunity, she ran and lept into the air, punching him in the face. He gave her a quick backhand, knocking her back a few steps. "You'll have to come better than that wench!"

With that he zipped toward her, swinging his massive arms in flurry of punches and jabs. Nioma blocked most of them and dodged others, but the blows were beginning to take their toll. Meanwhile the female stalker gripped Layla by her neck. "Are you ready to watch your lover die?" she cackled. "Damion can go on like that for hours. He'll pummel her!"

"Then we better get started," Layla said, giving her a sharp headbutt and an elbow to the chest. "Show me what you got bitch!" Layla's opponent's three-inch nails grew to three times their length, the edges gleaming like a ginsu knife. She moved fast, clawing at Layla with a feline quickness, faking her out with false strikes before laying into her with quick stabs, striking her a few times and leaving small trails of blood in her wake as she slowly backed her into a corner. Layla surprised her with a quicky uppercut to the stomach. She did a backflip onto the wall, and with a powerful push of her legs lunged at the stalker, slamming her own the ground. She tried to claw her again, but Layla caught on to her game, grabbing her hands and bending them backward until she heard the snap, crackle and pop of bones. She let loose a flurry of screams that sounded like the last gasps of a dying bird getting its throat slashed. Her defenses down, Layla proceeded to make good on her promise, blackening her eyes, nose and lips.

"Marlana," Damion screamed,pushing Nioma aside as he ran towards Layla. Nioma was in hot pursuit, sprinting before she lept into the air, Decadon in hand. Just as he ripped Layla off of Marlana, Nioma landed on his back, giving him a stab straight through the neck, . She gave a double fisted blow to the back as he fell his knees. Nioma leaned into Damion's ear, holding the handle of the Decadon. "Did I live up to the hype?" she taunted before pulling it out, sending blood gushing from the gaping wound. Damion's large frame collapsed to the ground as his skin bubbled and curdled, slowly disentegrating into the gravel.  

Nioma and Layla made their way toward her. "Deluded fools, you think you've won, " she said. Several blue orbs began to spin around her, picking up speed until they obscured her completely. Nioma and Layla turned to each other and said "Awww hell." The orbs dispersed, revealing her pale skin sans any wounds. She slowly made her way toward them,  "Unlike Damion, I can't be stopped by little knives. In a flash she sped to them and back to where she stood, unloading all of their weapons and tossing them to the ground. Or guns," she said with a sinister laugh. You'll have to vanquish me."

"Shit what's that spell," Nioma said.

"You better remember, and fast!" Layla said.

"Tame the evil that disturbs our peace," she began. "Destroy her essence, cause her existence to cease. Annihilate her, mind, body and soul."

"Womp womp, wrong answer!," Marlana said as she made her way towards them.

"Tame the evil that disturbs our peace," a rich, commanding female voice boomed. All three of them looked up to see Ivana, descending the stair way like she was walking down the palace steps. Her dark brunette hair, parted in the center and styled in ringlet curls, fell to her shoulders, blending into her dark ensemble of a chocolate brown coat with fur trim buttoned at the waist, a matching blouse and a pair of dark blue jeans leading to a pair of spiked boots. An inner light seemed to emit from her dark olive skin as her hazel eyes gazed at the object of her rage.

"Destroy her essence, her existence shall cease. Relinquish her power, the spirit blackened by infernal control. Annihilate her mind, body and soul!"

Marlana's limbs suddenly grew stiff. She began gasping for air as her lungs shriveled to the size of mustard seeds, while her eyes began to cry tears of blood, replaced by a steady flow of purplish-green puss. Nioma and Layla took a few steps back as she started to convulse violently, foam erupting from her mouth like a geyser ready to explode. Her eyes popped and flashed like two burnt out bulbs as she regurgitated the full contents of her insides, a hole in her neck becoming visible due to the acid rapidly flowing past her throat. Finally when she had no more to give, the shell of skin that once encased her body crumbled to the ground in a gooey pile.

"I think that was the incantation you were trying to cast," Ivana said sternly as the two women turned to face her. "You two need to brush up on your spells, especially the vanquishing curses."

"I almost had it" Nioma protested. "I just missed a line."

"Precisely my point Nioma," she said in a clipped, impatient manner. "A line that could've cost you and Layla your lives. What would've happened if I didn't overhear the ruckus going on out here?" Never underestimate your enemies' capacity for surprise. Ever!"

"Alright, Ivana we get it," Layla sighed, exasperated by being on the receiving end of yet another one of Ivana's lectures. "Almost doesn't count and all that jazz."

"We're going to need all the curses, incantations and potions we can muster if we're going to pull this off. And you are two of strongest in the bunch. Get it together!"

"Don't worry, by we'll be in tip top sorcery shape soon enough," Nioma said. "And for the record, we've never encountered self-healing daystalkers before. You need to update the Inferna list. I'm just sayin.'"

"I did. If you'd check your copy more often, you'd have known all about daystalkers and their latest tricks. I'm just sayin'," she said mockingly, narrowing her eyes and practically stomping towards them, kicking up bits of rock until she stood chest to chest with the two women.  "You little girls best start bleeding soon. Now let's get inside. Clarkeil loathes tardiness."

R.I.P Taylor Siluwe

Author/blogger Taylor Siluwe lost his battle with lung cancer Sunday. Siluwe was the author of SGL Cafe. While I was not as close to him as other bloggers, he was a follower K. Clark's Corner and I definitely reading his insightful blog and the occasional comments his left here. Rest in peace Taylor.

Put Your Mind To It, Go For It....

Recently, in an effort to get back in shape, I've decided to take up yoga. Like most free weight/weight machine users, I figured that yoga would be a bunch of soothing "oooohhmmmm" poses that probably wouldn't produce any semblance of a burn. Boy was I wrong! Granted, I'm not doing any both-legs-behind-your-head contortionist Ashtanga/Bikram poses (I'll leave that to Madge and the gentleman pictured above), but getting through an hour long session left me super sweaty and winded. Stretching, pulling, twisting, downward dogging--it ain't no joke!

Another welcome surprise is that doing yoga actually does bring a sense of serenity. Not necessarily an "I've reached nirvana" epiphany or state of consciousness, but I do feel a calmness afterwards, a relaxation in my body and mind that kind of balances out my sometimes hyper-drive mental state. So I think I'll stick with it for the time being--plus it's cheaper popping in a DVD at home and working out in my apartment than coughing up coins for a gym membership--although I'll probably buy a few dumbells so I can do some bicep, tricep, shoulder and chest work.

Anywho, I just thought I'd give an update on my fitness regime. Oh, and five points to whoever can guess where the title of that post can from! (Hint: Hot Sundae).

Share My World....

I was inspired by this over at Toddy English's blog (who in turn was inspired by fellow blogger Wonderman) and figured I'd fill ya'll in on what's been going on with me.

1) I got a raise at my job! Well my full-time gig that is (I still work part-time at another place on the weekends). Granted it wasn't a huge jump in pay, but every bit helps when gas is almost four dollars.

2) I plan to start working out again soon. When I was in college I went to gym three times a week and packed quite a bit of lean muscle (I was actually underweight as a freshman), and indulged in protein shakes and the like. Joining a gym might not be option--gas is almost four dollars after all--so I'll probably buy a P90X workout DVD and call it a day. I'll probably skip the protein shakes as well, to save money and since my metabolism has slowed a bit now:).

3) Over the next few weeks I'm going to buy a drum machine, get my guitar out of the pawn shop, get a guitar amp and create some dance/pop/R&B type tracks. I'm not trying to be the next Quincy Jones or Timbaland, but it'll be fun making music. When I have about 4 or 5 finished tracks, I'll upload them on Bandcamp or Myspace.

4) For those not in the know, I also have another blog, Indies And The Underground, that profiles up and coming artists, post interviews, remixes and general music news. I'm currently in the process of merging my blog with another site called The Truth About Music. I have my own page on the site and have total creative control over what I post. Hopefully this will increase my readership and my revenue. Take a look here.

5) I've been working on two books off and on. This is actually been going on for several months, but I was afraid to mention it because I didn't want to look like I was jumping on the *speaks in snobbish upper crust accent* "I'm writing a novel"  bandwagon. One story is about a college senior named Derrick, who is out gay atheist on campus but has yet to come out to his family back home. Other characters include a trans woman named Sharise who is estranged from her family, and another gay character named Marcus who has his own issues. Basically it deals with homophobia, relationships, religion, sexuality, transphobia, family and a bunch of other touchy issues.

The other story is a fantasy-based theme set in the world of Escencia. The heroine's name is Nioma Maxwell, a former princess who runs away with other rebels after they carry out an assassination of Emmanuel, a ruthless king that turned the former paradise into a war-torn wasteland. After his death the people descend into a state of misery, superstition and fear, and out of these emotions and dire atmosphere another character, Magus Daivat, is born. He seduces the people into giving him their "essence(i.e life force, humanity) in exchange for eternal life. The people unwittingly become his slaves and the world is transformed into a place  where choice and free will are mere illusions. However in sucking humanity dry Daivat unknowingly creates a counterpart named Kidara, who is full of all the sensuality, intellectual curiosity, rebellion and creativity that Daivat seeks to stamp out.  Nioma and the other defectors, known as The Omega Squad,  believe she is the key to overthrowing him. It tackles some of the same subjects as the other story-in-progress--religion, sexuality, gender,politics--but does it in more subversive fashion. I may post an excerpt or two from each, just so I can get some feedback.

Anywho, that's what's going on in my little fish tank right now. And five points to whoever can guess where the post title comes from (it's too easy lol:).

God, The Mountain Climber and Faith

Last Sunday I heard a sermon about having faith in faith/belief vs. faith in God. That may sound a little confusing, but the basic idea was that many people have faith in their beliefs, but do not have the faith to trust and/or obey God when he 'speaks' to them.

What stuck out in my mind was a story he told to close the sermon. A mountain climber climbs to the top of a mountain (It could've been Mount Everest, but I'm not sure. Either way, the mountain was very tall). As he begins his descent however, night comes and darkness begins to fall. Unfortunately the mountain climber neglected to bring any supplies or equipment with him to survive the night. He has no choice but to continue his descent. At some point he slips up, loses his grip and begins hurtling down the mountain and most likely to his death. Luckily for him, the rope tied around his waist snaps tightly, leaving him suspended in midair.

Of course, this still doesn't change the fact that he's hanging in midair in below freezing temperatures. So he and God begin to have a little conversation:

The man: "Save me, Save me!"  God replies: "Do you really believe I can save you?" The man: "Yes!" God: "Then cut the rope."

It sounds like an easy solution, but the man is in pitch black darkness. He doesn't know how far the drop is once he cuts the rope and becomes afraid. He never cuts the rope and freezes to death. When rescuers come the next morning, his body is discovered hanging only two feet from the ground.

This elicited much "mmmmhmmms" and "My Lords" from the church mothers and congregation. Someone even came forward during invitation (a man to be exact--you know what means--extra salvation points!), and it's easy to see why, if you take the story at face value: God knows what's best for us. All we have to is obey him and have faith, and everything will turn out right. Otherwise, we can face potentially deadly consequences. The story had that perfect mix of drama, action and fear that religion does so well.

But when I really thought about it, I gleaned something very different from the story. First of all, God is supposed to be omniscient. If he is, then he would've known this man's past, present and future. Which means he would've known that the mountain climber would eventually be hanging by a rope in the bitter cold in the dead of night. Most importantly, he would've known the outcome of his request that the man simply cut the rope. And if God already knew, then why would he even ask him in the first place?

Someone reading this post might respond  to my query with this explanation: "Because God wanted to see if he had faith. He was testing him!" To which I say: Why test someone when you already know the outcome? Especially if said outcome could mean life or death?

Secondly, this doesn't really jive with the whole "God is our father and we're his children," concept. I don't know about you, but if I was an all-powerful deity and saw one of my kids in process of becoming a human Popsicle, I wouldn't simply say cut the rope. Why only give him half the information and leave room for doubt? Why not scream out: "Cut the rope! There's a pile of snow two feet beneath you!" And if he still didn't believe, I'd shine my holy light and show his ass so he could see! Cause that's what a parent does. At least an all-powerful, omnipotent one anyway.

Which is leads to my main issue: Why is faith good? Why is believing in something illogical and irrational considered a virtue? In every other area of our lives, we're taught to be skeptical and rational, except when it comes to religion. Think about it: if I were at a car dealership and asked the salesmen if I could take a test drive, and he replied "You'll just have to take it on faith," I would think he was a damn fool or a con artist. But if the same man was in a pulpit, everyone would think he's a wise man. WTF?

Getting that job promotion sort of pales in comparison.

If God is so concerned about our lives and eternal destinations, why is he making himself so hard to find? If he truly wanted everyone to avoid a permanent vacation with the Devil, why only speak through "signs and wonders?" That is if you call finding a parking spot or having someone 'healed' of cancer when they had 'round the clock chemotherapy and constant medical supervision a wonder. A good thing? Yes. But parting the Red Sea it is not. But I digress. I swear, it irritates me every time I hear someone say "God told me to tell you," or some other nonsense. Screw the secretaries, I wanna speak to the boss!

God could simply resolve the issue by doing an act so improbable that the world would be forced to acknowledge his existence. Healing an amputee's leg by growing back the original limb for example. Or appearing before the entire planet in all your glory and replenishing the world so no one goes hungry would be a good show of Holy Ghost power. But then there would be no need for faith, and his plans would be ruined, even though he created the plot and knows how the story will end.

But then again, were God to prove his existence, the question of whether you'd worship him comes into play. Let's just say Old Testament God was pretty moody, at least from what I've read.

So is faith a good thing? Tell me what you think.

Indies And The Underground Is On Facebook!

Remember a few months ago when I blogged about starting a new venture (i.e starting a music blog)? Since then things have been going pretty swimmingly. I've gotten a few promoters to send me promos CDs and digital albums/singles regularly and have even managed to snag a few interviews (even though I still trying to track down B Slade!). Well now the blog is on Facebook! You can follow the blog and get instant updates on anything I post. Here's the link:

http://apps.facebook.com/blognetworks/blog/indies_and_the_underground/

Please follow as I need followers to boost my fragile ego *smiles and bats eyes girlishly*:).

Madonna: My Grand Diva!

I remember the first time I heard her voice. It was in the middle of a karate class when I was seven years old. Out of the radio speakers sprang a vibrant, exuberant voice full of life singing over a gentle piano melody. I was transfixed. Sure at the time I was knee-deep into my Whitney phase (I was living for The Bodyguard soundtrack my mama played constantly at the time) but this was different. I didn't know the song's name was "Borderline" or that its singer was a white chick from Michigan named Madonna, but I knew I liked it.

I heard her again late at night, but this time it was a ballad. I can still remember the first time I heard the chorus. It was like being wrapped in silk. "I've always been in love with you/I guess you've always known it's true," she sang, her voice surrounded by romantic strings. As a little black boy growing up in a small southern town, Madonna wasn't on my radar. My musical world consisted mostly of the aforementioned Nippy or Anita Baker, and the old Al Green, Earth, Wind and Fire and Stevie Wonder records my dad would play in the evening.

Occasionally the classical music I learned in music lessons made its way onto my sonic palette. Gospel music was another dominating sound, along with the occasional dose of homophobia served up in church. The closet was calling. It would be a few years before I heard her again.

"You're frozen/When you're hearts not open," her voice rang out over the school bus speakers. This was supposed to be the new Madonna, the serene New Age thinker who preached spiritual enlightenment and reflective introspection instead of sexual exhibitionism and eroticism. And I didn't like her. At 12 years old I loved Aaliyah, The Spice Girls, Mariah Carey, Usher and TLC. I wanted to dance along to "Are You That Somebody," not think about the state of my soul. I wasn't ready to go there yet.

Junior high came and with it the beginnings of adolescent alienation. My older brother and all my friends were all about No Limit, UGK, Jay-Z, Cash Money and screwed/chopped up rap that was pouring out of Texas. I bought a few rap albums like the Chronic 2001, 400 Degreez and Ghetto D, but for the most part I was feigning interest, nodding my head to keep from arising even more suspicion that had been peaked with my previous musical choices (did I mention I danced to Janet's "I Get Lonely" too?). The music was cool to dance to, but I didn't feel it. Something was missing.  

"Haven't we met/You're some kind of beautiful stranger," she sang to me as she gyrated across the screen. Now this was the voice I heard on "Borderline." Full of cool energy with just a hint of smart-ass wit. Something about "Beautiful Stranger," captured me in a way "Back That Ass Up" Or "Forgot About Dre" never did. I had to know more about her. 

Luckily older fans had created websites full of old interviews, photoshoots and videos for me to discover (even though this was still during the dark ages of dial-up). I devoured everything Madonna. Looking back I think was unconsciously drawn to her take-it-or-leave attitude, her brashness, her support of sexual liberation and the way she challenged gender stereotypes. 

Even though at 13 years old I was nowhere near ready to say the words "I'm gay" something about Madonna's world--full of theatrics, catchy pop hooks and fun--felt safe. Listening to The Immaculate Collection and Like A Prayer provided a daily antidote to the awkwardness and isolation I felt at school and home as my difference became more pronounced. Dancing to "Music," "Vogue," or "Into The Groove" and watching the "Express Yourself" video went beyond simple fandom. It felt I was learning something important, character traits I would need to survive.

As I entered high school and enveloped myself in a cocoon of self-loathing and depression, she continued to be my guide. My musical tastes expanded to thrash, goth and heavy metal. Harsh, dark music that acted as a shield against the hell of high school. But Madonna was still there, the Erotica and Bedtime Stories albums reflecting a deeper maturity that spoke to my vulnerable emotional state. Of course you know the rest. I woke up from the haze, came out and left my delusions of becoming straight behind. Other artists may have tried to take her place--Marilyn Manson, Metallica Green Day, Kanye, Alicia Keys, Mary J--but have never succeeded.

Sorry Whitney. I'll holla Mariah and Beyonce. Love ya' Janet and Aaliyah. But Madonna is my Grand Diva. I admit it. I'm a complete Madge stan. I believe in 100 years her work will be studied by cultural scholars and historians. I feel a sense of total liberation and joy when I listen to her music. It's almost spiritual. "Vogue," "Holiday," "Rescue Me," "Ray Of Light" "Deeper and Deeper," "Hung Up"--the songs not only make me want to get up and dance and always put me in a good mood. Meanwhile the ballads--"Oh Father, "Live To Tell," "I'll Remember," "Bad Girl," Inside Of Me" "Love Tried To Welcome Me," "Drowned World"--make me think deeply about my relationships, my family and life in general.

Her live shows, often full of multiple meanings, extravagant staging, glamorous costumes and irreverent antics, leave me breathless. Her photo shoots can be fun and flirty or dark and provocative, depending or whatever mood this clever chameleon is in.

Madonna inspires me with her work ethic and her inner strength to overcome tragedy and adversity in her life. I love her constant artistic growth, how she can pull inspiration from virtually anywhere and present it to her audience in an alluring, engaging way.  She is my favorite female artist, if not my favorite artist period. In short, I love that bitch!

So who's your Grand Diva? Tell me in the comments:).

Happy Birthday To Me!

I'm officially no longer in my early 20's :tear lol:. And I'm at work--but I went out last night, so it's all good:). Of course I'll give you the pleasure of guessing my exact age(all you have to do is dig through the archives to figure it out--I won't make it that easy suckas). Anyways just thought I'd let you know.

The "G" Bomb Has Been Dropped! Coming Out, Conversations And The Aftermath

This happened several months ago, but I've been putting off blogging about it for some reason. I guess I needed time to process and really comprehend what happened and what was said. As far as my sexuality  and relationships go, my mother and brother have known for some time, but my father has not known the full story, so this post is mostly about he and I, although my mother was also present. For a long time we've been very distant, loving each other but not knowing how to deal with one another. I'm not sure where to start, so I guess I'll start at the beginning.

One of my fondest childhood memories is waking up when I was around five, and running into the kitchen where my parents were having breakfast. I would grab the paper, sit on my father's knee, and read it to him. My dad would smile with pride, and gently rub me on my head, his own special way of showing love and affection, as he was not the touchy or feely type. If ever there was a sure sign that I'd done good and earned his approval, whether it be getting good grades or winning an award, rubbing the top of my head was it.

But as the years went by the distance grew on both our parts. It could've been the stare of disapproval when I flailed my wrists while talking. Or it may have been the resentment I felt watching him and my older brother sitting together watching sports while giving only a passing observance to my interest in music, or talking about one of his girlfriends, or when he saw my long nails and combat boots and commented that people might think I was "one of them gay boys."

Dealing with my burgeoning sexuality and all the religious, personal and emotional conflicts it caused, crippled my ability to be myself around my dad, who I knew wouldn't have anything good to say about it.  I wasn't prepared in any way, shape or form for his reaction. So I simply distanced myself emotionally from him, keeping conversation superficial and brief.

Then came college, and thankfully an escape. I needed those four years to rebuild my identity, to question my beliefs and gain back some of the self-confidence and inner peace that had eluded me for most of adolescence. But with graduation, and subsequently moving back home, I knew I couldn't run from my demons, 'cause them bastards wear track shoes.

Actually, coming out to my father came courtesy of Facebook. He'd known about me and my current boyfriend's close relationship and suspected somthing was going on, but didn't know for sure until he joined and saw my relationship status (I assumed that since my mother knew I was in a relationship, he knew as well but hadn't confronted me about it.). I got a call from my mom saying he wanted to talk to me, but when I heard his voice he couldn't speak at all. He was crying, an act as unbelievable to me as Jonah living in the belly of a whale.

But sadness soon gave way to anger, and our conversation quickly grew heated. He explained in a steady voice that there had never been a homosexual in our family, and if that's what I wanted to "do," then I would have to find a lawyer, change my last name, give him back his house keys and leave. He asked how could I do this to him, to our family. There were also other things said, but I won't go into them. As angry as I was with my dad at the time, I know those remarks don't totally represent him as person.

I pulled my cell phone from my ear and looked at it in shock. This had to be a dream. I know this man did not just tell me in no uncertain terms, that I'm disowned! And that I doing this to him as some kind of fucking rebellion! I quickly got dressed and drove to my parents' house. I don't know how I didn't get into a wreck, because I so angry I barely paid attention to the road. As me and my father yelled back and forth-- him about how wrong I was and how I was going to hell, me about how I wasn't going to burn anywhere--my mother furiously trying to keep the peace. Even though I was burning with rage, I felt almost detached. I'd never talked back to my dad in my life, certainly not in this way. It was always "yes sir" and going about my way, even though I had so much else to say.

After we both calmed down a little I really began to open up. I explained the reason for my distance was because I felt I could never be my true self around him, so I'd spent most of my life putting a front for everyone else's happiness, and that I couldn't and wouldn't do it anymore. I was gay, in a relationship and was going to go live with my boyfriend, and that was the way it was going to be. He responded that he hated what I "did" he still loved me. I could've continued arguing that gay is what I am, not something I do, but that would've never resolved anything. I knew going in that I wouldn't come away with my dad wanting to march in a pride parade. But I simply wanted what my brother already had: to be treated and recognized as an adult living my own life and making my own decisions, even if they are ones that he and my mom might not always agree with.

That was a little two months ago. Since them, our relationship has improved for the better. I come home more often and call more frequently. Our face-to-face encounters are no longer a meeting of the ice kings but of a father and son, trying to understand each other and share their lives together. Things are not perfect, (but when are they ever?) but as I feel his embrace or his hands rubbing my head at the end of each visit, I feel five years old again for a split second. I go back to seeing his smiling face and eyes that shine with affection. I also see something else that I missed the first time around: unconditional love. Hopefully we can both do our parts to honor that memory and continue to create  new ones, just as honest, just as pure.

iPhones Suck!

Or at least their replacement policies do. Forgive me techno-savvy friends, but I believe is true (at least partly). While I myself do not own an iPhone, my man does so I do feel I have some experience to draw from . Of course, having speedy Internet access, being able to take high quality photos, video and audio clips and upload your entire music collection are big pluses. But the minuses are a bitch (pardon my french, but I've been on the phone all day with Apple and AT&T reps who keep contradicting each other and in general have no idea what the hell they're talking about).

In the past year since he's had his iPhone, it has: had trouble syncing(and when it does it takes at least 4 to 5 hours) has frozen up for no apparent reason, which almost required us to send it off in the mail for repairs which could've taken up to three weeks, bought applications that he never ordered (and showed up on the bill) and just last night it decided to die for no apparent reason. Not to mention the phone's always one drop away from a cracked screen and is hella hard to type on. Seriously, I've never seen a device that's so fragile and high maintenance--hell even CDs/DVDs/video games can survive a few scratches.

Normally this wouldn't have been too bad of a situation, but customer service informed me that the warranty had expired four days ago. Never mind that he told the people at AT&T the phone was on its last legs and asked if he could get another phone, to which they responded by incorrectly informing him that he'd have to pay around $300 to $400 for a replacement(even though he wouldn't have had to pay jack since the phone was still under the warranty at the time).

Of course having an extended warranty/insurance (which runs an extra 69.99) would've been helpful, and I realize it's our own fault for not having it. But what's really pissing me off is the crap you have to go through to get it replaced/fixed. During one of the many calls I made to Apple technical support, I was told I could send in the phone to get it fixed for $199 (which contradicted what another rep said earlier). However, I'd also have to pay $29 if I wanted an alternate phone sent, plus have the company place a $200(the price of the new iPhone) hold on my account for a few days. All told I'd pay around $400. And that's whether or not the company can fix the phone. Or I could've just sent the phone through the mail for $199 and be shit out of luck if they couldn't fix it, which could take up at least three weeks for them to determine. Life's full of tough choices now itn' it?

Not wanting to spend what would almost be a month's rent, I asked if I could send the phone to an Apple store in Baton Rouge to get a replacement, to which I was told no. I'd have to drive two and half hours to come in person to pay $199 for another phone, or as the employee at the Apple Store told me, the price they determined at their discretion.

What the f*ck! What's so hard about exchanging my account info over the phone or online, getting my bank card information and sending the new phone through the mail while I send the old one. They damn sure don't hesitate to suck the money out of my account the times I've paid the bill online. What's the problem now? It's not like it'd be hard to track me down. You have my Social Security number, which is pretty much the digital equivalent of a toe tag. *Takes deep breath and counts to ten* We'll probably end up going to the AT&T store and shelling out an extra hundred to replace a phone that could've been replaced for free a week earlier if the salespeople knew their contract plans. Oh well at least I got to vent at little. I guess the key words for this life lesson are: phone insurance.

A New Venture...

Anyone who has been reading my blog for a while now knows that music is a big part of my life. In fact, my dream job is one-day work for a music/entertainment magazine, either print or online, in the mold of Vibe, Spin, Rolling Stone, Details etc,. In the meantime, I've decided to start a new blog, Indiesandtheunderground.blogspot.com. The blog will cover music by independent, unsigned or up-and-coming artists, as well as music by major label/mainstream artists. I plan post songs, videos, general music news and add my own two cents with reviews and editorial pieces. Hopefully I'll also be able to snag some artists interviews and post them on the site as well. And of course any out and proud LGBT artists I find will be shown much love. Right now the site is still in its early stages, but there are few posts (some are old posts from this blog) to look through right now. I'll still do posts on K Clark's Corner, but be sure to check the new blog as well. I need the comments lol! I'm so excited! For some reason I have a feeling this could lead to something big!

Bebe's Kids (Why I Don't Want No Crumbsnatchers!)

Think back. Way back. Back to the beginning of this blog(if you were reading it back then lol:). In one of my first posts I made a passing comment about how I didn't want children, so now let me elaborate.

I desire lots of things out of life--a challenging and exciting career, a nice home, to have great friendships/relationships,to help others, to be financially comfortable--but having children isn't one of them. Growing up some of my friends (gay or straight) would always talk about having kids, wanting to be a dad so they can pass on their name, "spread their seed" etc. But I've never had even the slightest twinge to procreate/adopt, and haven't been afraid to say so. The thought of dealing with: changing diapers, teething, being woken up in the middle of night, teenage angst (it was hard enough dealing with my own, lol) does not appeal to me. Now if I could fast forward to the kids being out of the house and having their own, then I'd loooove to be a dad. 'Cause I love kids in small doses (i.e. if they 're someone else's.)

This stance has caused me to pegged as selfish by the aforementioned friends(granted this was years ago, so things and subsequently, opinions may have change since then.) Selfish? So me making the mature, honest decision not to have children I know I would not want is selfish, but popping out babies just because it's what I should be doing is responsible? Ummmm no. I mean if you think about it, having children when you truly don't want any is inevitably going result in some undeserved resentment towards that child, who did not ask to be brought into the world. If more people really thought it out and decided for themselves whether they really wanted to be a parent, there'd probably be a lot less foster kids, abused and abandoned children in the world. Which is what makes those who want to stop gay couples from adopting look so ridiculous. But I digress.

Honestly, I think a lot of people feel this way, but are too afraid to fight the pressure from family, friends, society, church(trust me, pastors practically piss themselves when a young couple with children walks through the door). There's no clearer evidence of this then at the checkout line at any grocery store (but I'll use Wally World as an example since I work there:). Not a day goes by that someone with kids tells me "Don't have any kids." And they're probably only half-joking. There's also the single mom with kids acting a fool, giving me the look of fuck, why didn't I use a condom! Or guys with their wives and kids with a look of absolute misery, like they'd sell their soul in a second to trade places with me.

Of course this is not true of everyone. Some people really love and want to be parents, and are great at it. But I'm not one of those people. That may change someday, but for now, I can't see myself being anyone's daddy. Besides, I can barely take of myself right now, let alone a baby lol!

Graduation: Reflecting On The Past, Looking To The Future

You knew I couldn't go through graduation and not post something introspective lol:).

The diplomas have been passed out, the caps and gowns have been taken off, and I'm officially a college graduate with a bachelor of arts degree. It's surreal to be typing this fact. As I woke up this morning, I started reminiscing over the past four years, thinking back to crazy nights out at the club with my friends, meeting all types of new and interesting folks, tough classes, staying up until the wee hours of the morning finishing assignments, writing news articles, karoke nights, first-time love (and sex:).

I can say without a doubt that college has been one of the best experiences of my life. I know that I will look back on this time in my life with nothing but fondness and happiness, which I couldn't say about my high school experience. I never thought that I would love college, but then again I never thought that a lot of things would happen. I never thought I would have the courage to come out to my friends and most of my family, to quit smoking, to be in a relationship, to embrace myself as I am. I entered college as a lonely, closeted, depressed individual afraid to be himself, and am coming out (pun intended) as an someone who is happier, calmer, healthier and more comfortable in my own skin. As cheesy as it sounds, I feel like I'm finally discovering and finding myself.

I know the job market is on life support right now (especially for journalists) so I'm aware this will not be an easy task. But I'm hopeful, ambitious( I'm not planning on being career cashier) and believe that eventually I'll get my foot in the door. Simply put, the 18-year old Kevin was all about surviving moment to moment, avoiding emotion at all costs. The 23-year old Kevin knows that to feel emotion, whether good or bad, is be alive and has the desire to not just survive, but thrive.

Now if I could just find a damn job!

The "Real World" Awaits....

Four years of hard work have led up to this moment. Graduation is this Friday, and as usual, I'm full of mixed emotions. Happy to finally be done with my degree program? Hell yeah. Sad because college has been great experience, especially when compared to all the inner turmoil and drama of my high school days. Scared that I'll never find a job in my field? Hell to the yeah lol:). But, whatever comes, I feel prepared and ready to face it.

That's Not Cool....

"You gay!" were the words he shouted when me and friend passed by a house in our neighborhood. Nineteen at the time and "out" for less than a year, the word still cut like a knife when I heard it. I looked up and gave him a hard, icy stare as we rounded the corner and continued our walk. But little did we know, their harassment wasn't over. Two other boys caught up with us on their bikes and started trailing us. The loudmouth of the duo started spouting stupidity such as "It's not cool to be gay," "Who the man in the relationship?" (making the assumption my friend and I were lovers) and "Why ya'll wanna be gay?"

Since these were 15-17 year-olds we were dealing with, we quickly responded with a barrage of sarcastic, witty retorts and continued on our way. A few days later, and taking another walk through our neighborhood, we saw the same group of guys walking towards us. Looking at us with a mix of bemusement, disgust and contempt, remarks such as "Uggh faggots," "That's not cool...it's not cool to be gay," and curiously enough "Ya'll could suck my dick." Again I merely shook my head and dismissed them as young ignorant fools.

One night walking back to my friend's house we passed by one of our hecklers' house, where the group was playing basketball. As we made our way down the street, I looked back to find that the main instigator was following us. He came up behind and once spat his mantra "Man it's not cool to be gay," I responded by asking him what the fuck his problem was and why he care so much, while my friend said similar sentiments. We were reaching the end of our patience with this dude. He then grabbed my jacket and a tug of war ensued. Seeing how stupid this was (and how the jacket was cheap old anyway) I released it and we continued walking. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head. This guy had punched me.

I whipped around to find him jumping back and forth his hands up in a boxing positions, looking like the mascot for Notre Dame. Like all good cowards his friends quickly joined him and stood behind him, waiting for me to make a move. I thought to myself I can't believe this. I will knock you the fuck out! I was so in my own thoughts that I could barely hear his commands that we "get our faggot-ass on out of here" or something to that effect. I debated whether I should fight or not, and decided I didn't want to go to jail for pummeling a minor.

So we rounded the corner and continue back to my friend's house. But it wasn't over. The ringleader and his lackies ran up the street to us, walking side by side with us. The leader said "I don't like gay people," in a voice that rang with pure hatred. "Don't come on our street no mo'" he said. "Alright" I replied, still trying to diffuse the situation. Little did I know that they were done talking, and we were soon in a 2 on 5 fight in the middle of the street.

I saw my friend duck and dodge and swing at one of the attackers before he slipped and went down, and was stomped several times. I soon found myself surrounded by group of three, dodging and evading swings before being hit in the nose. The voice on the other of that fist exclaimed "Ooh I stuck that nigga," as I slipped on someone's wet grass and was subsequently stomped. A bystander, known to everyone in the neighborhood as "Blue Eyes" merely stood there and said "That's fucked up" with a smug smirk on his face. After they finished and quickly went back down the street. (On a side note, most if not all of the attackers attended church. I believe this probably supported their attitude towards us and emboldened them to 'put the punks in their place.')

As I walked back to my friend's place minus one shoe and a bloody nose, my body trembled with rage. The fact that two of the attackers had been to my house years earlier to play video games and hang out further contributed to my fury. As we reached my car, my friend and I traded revenge plots. My first thought was to run them all over, stuff their corpses in my trunk, and dump them in a ditch. His plan consisted of us ridin' up on them with baseball bats and swinging to the fence on their asses. Another thought was slashing the tires on of the guy's tires.

It was the first time in my life I'd seriously considered murder. I finally understood what could make someone feel so angry that they'd want to take another human life. It is the feeling that you've been so humiliated, so violated and so betrayed by what someone has done to you that simply beating them up or insulting them back isn't enough. The only way the situation can be resolved is for that person to not exist anymore. There is no room for compromise or discussion. They have to go.

We did discuss calling the police, but decided against it because of the cause of the attack. I know it doesn't make sense, but at the time both he and I were still deeply in the closet to our families, and reporting the incident would have led to questions I just wasn't ready to answer at that time. I think many victims of gay bashing don't report for this very reason, or they feel the police and their family won't be supportive. The closet makes you do strange shit. But I digress.

For days after we were jumped, I sank into a funk that varied between blind rage and deep depression. I knew homophobia existed and felt some of its sting before, but never had I been so closely aquainted with it. It truly hurt me to know that a stranger could hate you so much for something that had nothing to do with them. That event forever changed who I am.

Needless to say, none of those things happened that night or I wouldn't be writing this post.

However we still had something in store for them. And once some of our friends came back in town we sprung into action. We convinced a friend of ours to pour some sugar down the tank of one of our attackers' car. Unfortunately his gas cap had a lock, so his mother's car had to take one for the team. As we drove off I couldn't help but hum "A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down!" I know it was an awful thing to do, but at the time I wasn't thinking straight. My mind was completely clouded by revenge. I also used a label maker from work and had the same friend (he was very good at stalking about in the night) stick below the license plate on the same guy's car. I wish I could've seen the look on his face when he was babbling about b.s. with his friends and saw the words "platinum dicksucker" in all caps on his car. Things really started to heat up when we all rode by one of guy's house, blasting music and mean mugging the whole group as we rounded the curb at two miles an hour.

Of course, as the saying goes, if you fight fire with fire everyone gets burned. One night I let one of my friends drive and we ended up behind the guy's car. Since this was shortly after we placed the sticker on his vehicle, we rode his tail all the way down the street, trying to examine our handiwork. After he cut us off at a corner, opened his door and gave us glare. To speed things up a bit this led to a showdown at my friends house with at 12-15 people fighting in the front yard, and only ended after one of my friends called the police and the guys scattered like roaches. In the melee however, my car suffered a huge dent, which cost around $600 to fix. In the weeks that followed, two of the guys (not the main instigator) personally apologized to me and my friend and one of them ended up becoming a passing aquaintance. As far as I know, we've all moved on.

In hindsight, I would have never taken things as far as they went, or allowed my friends to. All that drama wasn't worth it. Through all that chaos, nothing got resolved. It wasn't until we actually talked that things got worked out. If I had to do it all again, I would've just called the police, filed a report, and done whatever I needed to do to make sure they were punished for they did.

Later on, I can't remember exactly when, it might've been a few months or weeks later, my friend's sister informed me the main instigator had been jumped outside the local movie theater. I didn't feel overjoyed or particularly sad for his predicament. After all, jumping folks and picking fights, that's not cool.

Lovers and Friends...

Anyone who has ever been a relationship knows the moment things become serious, tension with close friends can start. As you and your significant other grow closer and spend more time together, creating your own intricate language of code words and inside jokes, your friends might start to see you as becoming distant, having less time to hangout, and or, as some in my circle succinctly put it "You don't fuck with us anymore."

Since my first serious relationship was a long distance affair, I really didn't have to deal this fact. But since me and my current boyfriend have gotten closer, this fact has become increasingly clear. Two friends in particular feel I have less time for them and don't hangout as much as I used to. I'll admit this is true. It's difficult to balance close friends and maintain a romantic relationship. I'll also admit that a flaw of mine is that I tend to focus my attention, emotions etc., on those I come in constant contact with. In other words, if someone is not part of my daily job/sex life/side interests then I tend to communicate with them less. It isn't out of malice or anger. If anyone of these people were in danger or fell ill I'd be at their bedside in a heartbeat. But this is a flaw nonetheless.

With all that being said, a friend of mine recently spent a weekend in the hospital with swollen arms. He's also part of the community choir I'm in. Since he was absent for both events we had to sing at, everyone in the group called his cell phones and tried to text him. I ran into his brother at church and he had no idea of his whereabouts either. Finally he texted a choir member yesterday about his two-day ordeal. Being concerned, I called his phone, which he actually answered for a change. His response to my questions about how he was doing were cold and confusing. He said I called "too late", despite the fact that only his mother, who lives in California, was the only one who knew what happened. After he said that I "needed to hang out with my new family," (i.e. my boyfriend and other choir members) in a dismissive tone. Needless to say, I was highly pissed off and responded with a simple "Alright," and hung up before I said what was really on my mind.

Now like I've said before, I'm not always the best at keeping in touch. But communication is a two-way street. And over the past few months, his side of the road has gotten some deep-ass potholes and speed bumps. Everytime I've called this person, they don't pick up and never call back. I text them to find out what's going on with them, they never responded. I attempt to chat online, with no response. This person also has their own significant other, yet whenever I ask how their relationship is going and ask about things I've heard through his brother (who's also a friend of mine), I get shallow, indirect answers. It's like he doesn't trust me anymore. I'm not asking he divulge every detail of his day, but it seems a wall has been built up.

However, whatever's going on in his life is no excuse for what I was met with on the phone yesterday. Granted we may not hang out all day every day like we used to, but I still have love him and really don't know why he's pulled away from not only me, but the rest of our mutual friends and his family. As I said before, he's also in a relationship and said he understands that our friendship would change somewhat since we have other stuff going on.

I guess my question is how does anyone else handle the tension that occurs when you try to maintain friendships and a relationship?

Leave comments please and don't hold back.

Let's Get Unconscious Honey

The following entry is about different dreams I've had at different points of my life. Some are a little violent and sexual, while others have actually mirrored my real life and resulted in deja vu experiences. Anyways, feel free to interpret what they mean if you wish:)

* * *

I am in a house full of melting clocks. I walk through the different rooms of the house, some filled with light and others steeped in darkness. There are all types of clocks: grandfather clocks, digital clocks and so on. After making my way through the maze of clocks and rooms, I stand at the foot of a long staircase. A giant clock embedded in the wall is located at the top. As I start to make my way someone catches my attention and says "Time to wake up!"

But I don't. Instead I'm in a house, either my own or my great aunt's, who'd recently passed at the time. Her death was little rough for me, because she was the first person I was close to who passed away. Not to mention I'd prayed fervently that she be healed of the cancer ravaging her body, so her death symbolized a crisis of faith of sorts for me. Anyway, as I walk through the house I see her lying on the couch. She looks peaceful and healthy. She tells me that everything's alright, that she's proud of me or something to that effect. Then I wake up.

* * *

I find myself in an abandoned old house in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. It is a scene straight out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Getting up out of bed, I make my way to the bathroom. As I look in the mirror, a creature that looks like it fought its way out of the pits of hell stares back at me. He looks like a cross between Leatherface and Drahmin from Mortal Kombat(for my video game heads:). He skins looks like it's been eaten alive by maggots and roaches, while one of his arms is made of metal. I barely manage to move out the way before he screeches and smashes the sink to bits. I run for dear life ou the house out into a grassy field, with the hellbeast in hot pursuit.

Somehow I elude him and for some foolish reason, walk back to the house. My housemates' rooms are covered in blood, but there are no bodies ( maybe the bastard ate them or something). True to horror movie form, the beast clubs me from behind, leading to a massive beatdown. But suprisingly, I don't gush blood and die. No matter how many blows he lands, none hurt me. I survive the terror until I wake up.

* * *

Who knows how this dream cropped up, but by some twist of fate I found myself in a foursome with Nas, Dr. Dre and some random girl. As Dre and the girl look on, me and Nas make out first, as he tongues me ferociously and grabs my booty with a vengeance. Shirts come off next, followed by pants and boxer as we continue to make out on the bed. As he playfully pins me down I think damn, Nas must've been working out! He licks his lips and gives me a look like he wants to tear me apart. Game time being over, he turns aggressive, climbs on top of me and proceeds to plow me like a damn cornfield. Of course I loving every minute, but this being a dream, it ends way too soon.

The next thing I know, me and Dre are going at it. However this time I'm the aggressor, and quickly bend him over and handle my business. Unfortunately, the good doctor's beside manner is less than stellar. He expects me to do all the work and is overall selfish in the sack. For that he is quickly dissed and dismissed by all. Lawd why couldn't it have been LL! I barely remember what happened with the girl, which I guess isn't shocking given my current orientation lol;).

* * *

At various times, when I meet someone or hear someone say something or find myself in certain places or events, I have the feeling I've already been there before, or knew that I would be. One concrete example of this was when I was in 7th grade. I dreamed of what algebra class I'd be in in the 9th grade, complete with the exact chair, classroom and teacher. And it all came true, even though the only part of the school I'd seen was the pool and the cafeteria. Another time, I dreamt I was in a choir stand with a bunch of people I'd never met before. Maybe six months to a year later, I was in that church singing with that same group of people, one of which is now my boyfriend. In one dream I was at what appeared to be sound check playing a white guitar onstage (I'm really hoping that one comes true lol:). These incidents may seem small or inconsequential , but I often have these deja vu-type moments.

* * *

The last dream I'll mention is one that happened when I was nine. In the dream I became sick with either the flu or pneumonia and was promptly rushed to the hospital. I suppose everyone is there, but I specifically remember my mother telling me to hold on and that things will be ok. Sadly they aren't and I die. I remember taking that last breath felt like plunging into the deepest swimming pool ever, and having no need to come up for air. Like falling off a cliff, but with no fear of hitting the ground.

I found myself in a peaceful, serene place. Whether it was heaven or not I'm not sure, but I soon find myself back on earth, surrounded by an aura of white light. I pass by kids I used to play with at P.E. and recess, watching them laugh. Of course they can't see me. I act as a detached observer watching folks on the bus, in my neighborhood and at school. The only person who can see me is my mother. Suprisingly, I don't remember this as a sad dream. Maybe cause it sounded like the plot of a T.V. movie lol. What I do remember is the next day walking to the bus stop with a new appreciation for life. I guess dreaming you dropped dead and came back can do that for you.

What's Your Idea of The Afterlife?

There's something I've only told a few people in my life. I've written extensively about religion (Christianity specifically) and its affect on my life. Most people talk about being instilled with the fear of hellfire and brimstone. For me, I came to the realization after years of living with this fear, that hell didn't add up. I mean how were you supposed to enjoy heaven knowing that some friend or relative was roasting and being tortured in hell for all eternity?

However, heaven didn't seem much better. I know that sounds crazy. I mean how could anyone be fearful of or dread a place of everlasting life and happiness. Let me explain.

First, many people go on and on about these mansions and crowns laid up for them in heaven. But this didn't seem to match with the talk of these new bodies everyone was supposed to have. You know, the ones that never get old, tired, hungry, sick, etc. I mean what exactly would these houses have in them? There'd be no need for food, beds, water, TV, computers, or anything. It sounded as unnecessary as streets being paved with gold. What does it matter?

I also heard many preachers and fellow church members alike say heaven would be one big nonstop praise party. Everytime I heard this, no matter how hard I tried to block it, I'd think: Forever? I can barely get through 90 minutes of church! How am I supposed to be praising His name and giving the glory for all eternity? And if we're all busy gettin' down for Jesus, what need is there for the houses? I mean would there be intermissions for everyone to chill out for a second?

In my view heaven is an extreme. And extremes, whether they be pleasant or terrifying, soon become cliche and boring. While I love the idea of a place where there is no pain, sadness or death, an eternity spent worshipping and serving a deity (pretty much the same things you spent your whole life doing) would likely become mindnumbingly dull after awhile. But I think what makes me the most uncomfortable about heaven was that it seems to symbolize the death of human creativity. No more new music, art, books, movies, fashions or technology to discover or celebrate. Instead things would become static and unchanging for all eternity.

With all this said, I still believe in an afterlife, however improbable or illogical it might seem to some. I just don't believe we die and that's it. My version of heaven (the afterlife, celestial plane etc.) is a place where not only is there no more suffering, death or sadness but where people's differences are celebrated. Constant change, creativity and innovation would be on display and everyone would have equal space to express themselves and be heard. Like a big performing arts school in the sky lol.

So what's your idea of the afterlife? There are no wrong answers.

Ten Things To Know About Me....

I was tagged by Toddy to reveal 10 things about myself. Like to hear 'em, hear it goes:

1. I played alto saxophone in the school band from 6th to 9th grade, until my high school band teacher destroyed my love of band and I stopped (that could probably be a post by itself lol:).

2. During my freshman year of high school, I joined the Marine JROTC so I wouldn't have to take P.E.

3. Related to #2, I also have a fetish for the Marines lol. In my senior year I actually invited a Marine recruiter who spoke to my class to my house to tell me more about joining the few and proud because he was so Phine! Lol, probably one of my gayest moments.

4. I always tear up at the end of The Color Purple. I don't why, but it's something so joyous and simple about Celie and her sister reuniting and playing the same game they did as children as the credits role.

5. I can recite any line from any episode of The Golden Girls. Seriously.

6. Both my ex-boyfriend and current boyfriend are singers. Both of their mothers are also gay/bisexual.

7. I once flipped off my high school French teacher (of course her back was turned lol). I would never do that under normal circumstance, but that woman not only played favorites with her students, which I hate, she was stoned cold crazy. She used class time to talk about karma and the Bible, and actually got fired after it was discovered she was living in the school. When they cleaned out her desk they found a bible, a bottle of wine, and some shotgun shells. You be the judge.

8. When I was little I wrote a series of short horror stories entitled Beast Feast, which were modeled after the Goosebumps books. Some of the stories included The Videogame of Doom and The Hand from Hell (or something like that lol:).

9. Animals bring out the geek in me. I'll watch practically any program about almost any type of animal. Jackals, lions, ants, spiders, alligators, it doesn't matter.

10. I used to collect pogs. For those who don't know, pogs are milkcaps,which can be played for with another pog collector by slamming a stack of pogs with a slammer, and collecting the pogs that land face up. However, I never played for pogs because I wanted to perserve my precious milkcaps, lol.