Back in the Day...

“Back in the day, when I was young, I’m not a kid anymore
But some days I sit and wish I was a kid again” – Ahmad


While mostly unsupervised in the City we did some crazy stuff like toss bricks from rooftops so it only made me braver when we moved back to Norwalk. I was sure Jean had wore herself out when she pulled single mother duty because I got beat with the belt just about everyday. I still caught her wrath when we moved back to 18A even though she said she turned me over to my Father.

It’s true I was prone to mischief and proud to have defended my self-proclaimed Slick Man of the Year title seven years straight. We’d break the locks at S&S candy factory behind our complex, shoplifted from Jet Variety at least once a week and stole wooden coffee stirrers from Duchess and Dairy Queen then set them on fire in the woods next to the park.

We did everything in that park.

Dodge ball, basketball, tennis ball, touch football, tag, freeze tag, hide & seek, Mother may I, and red light-green light 123. Name it we played it.

One summer day we had the dodge ball game in full swing and the cutest redbone I had ever seen came over and asked if she could play. She had the Shirley Temple curls and I was in love.

“You can be on my side, I’m Donte you can throw and catch right?”

My hands and face were all sweaty and my shorts stuck to my ass under the summer humidity. We took our dodge ball very seriously actually we took every game of anything very seriously. Like when I got mad at Terry Verno and traded him for Allen Jones in between plays on some George Steinbrenner shit.

She waved her hand in my face, “I can throw and catch thanks but I wanna be on my cousin’s side.”

I felt mad played while I watched her skip over to her cousin and my volatile immaturity exploded.

“That’s all right. I’ll show you muthafuckas who the fuck runs this fucking
park. Go head throw that shit, nigga you throw like a bitch. Ahhhhh! Your ass is out! SIT THE FUCK DOWN!!! I’m a fuck all y’all up!”

“Time out, time out.” She ran towards me with hands up and a nauseas look.

“Hold up! Don’t throw the ball at me, I have time out!”

“What? Why you calling time out? I was fucking y’all up …”

“Can you stop cursing? Why are you playing like that? The game isn’t even fun when you’re talking like that …”

“Bitch! This is my block! If you don’t like the way I’m fucking talking then get the fuck outta my park, bitch!”

Her neck rolled with mad attitude and she sucked her teeth mad loud.

“Your Momma’s a bitch! I’m telling my uncle.”

She was out the park and across the street before I could respond.

“What! Tell your fucking uncle! I don’t care about that nigga, he ain’t my Daddy.”

After she left the park I yelled louder and cursed more with the glow of victory while we played like three more epic dodge ball games. Later that afternoon when I came home from the park, Mr. Robinson, also known as Deacon Robinson and the cute redbone were seated with my mother in our living room. Apparently his niece who was there for the summer went to the park to play and some wild boy cursed her out. My Mother leapt like predator to prey as soon as I walked in the door.

“You like calling young ladies, bitches? Motherfucker? You know what that is, Donte?”

The salty sound each profane word made as it fell out of my Mother’s mouth forced a nervous snort and giggle. Rage and embarrassment grabbed her face.

“Oh, so you think this is funny, you got some jokes, Mr. Nasty-mouth, do you? Well, I’ll give you something to laugh about …”

I tried to dip her reach with a drop step. “No! Mom! It’s just weird to hear you say those words …” But she was too quick and had me by the collar of my shirt.

“EXACXLY! Because you don’t hear that in this house but if you want to act a fool, I’m a beat you like a fool …”

“Mom! No!

‘Take your pants off …”

“Mom! There sitting right there, SHE’S sitting right there.”

I didn’t dare look towards the couch. I was so scared I thought I’d burst into flames.

“Oh! Now you worried about offending the young lady? Take your pants OFF!”

“We’re going to leave now, Sister Baxter …”

Mercifully he didn’t wait for her reply as the door closed on the rest of his sentence.

M

It's a doggy dog world ...

"Forced to sit still for instruction I realized how out of control I was ..."
Donte -

What's good family,

As a child by far my favorite time to shop (besides Christmas of course) was for back to school. The new smell of crispy trapper keepers, notebooks, pencils, rulers and anything else that had an official school feel to it, sent chills of excitement through my little heart. My parents knew full well each purchase would be buried in my locker, under my bed or lost in my book bag by mid November. But every year my mother shopped dutifully filled with hope that this was the batch, which would magically jump-start my procrastination. But procrastination and I were old friends melded together by a deep bond. Why do homework when I can play video games? Techmo Bowl for the NES dominated my senior year in high school every day straight home, to my room, book bag thrown on my bed for my daily quest to the super bowl. By ’93 Super Techmo Bowl came out for the Super NES and I was glued to the television thoroughly impressed by the awesome game play additions (season long stat tracker, post season awards, field flip at halftime and a halftime show with cheerleaders … yes! I’m a football video game geek.)

Back in ’93 West coast Hip Hop boomed heavy from my speakers at the same rate as the East. Cypress Hill, King Tee, Pac was still bi-coastal, and of course Dr. Dre and Snoop. (Lifetime goal PSA: Snoop is high on the list of people I want to puff with.) Life held so many undefined possibilities but I chose the path of dream vagabond and was taught the effects of soul erosion.

Much like his journey from Snoop Doggy Dog to Snoop Dog, time has also provided me an opportunity to change my direction and redefine my image more in the image of me.

Thanks for the company at the table of my mind.

Watch and enjoy one of the coolest Snoop videos ever.

Blessings,

M

Ill+matic ...

Hello family,

I'm back again. I won't bother us with hollow apologies because i have a legitimate excuse for my absence. I've put the pen to paper and finished the book. The Divine Sinner Chronicles first draft is complete! It's a novel inspired by true event in my life from childhood up to 1994. I took the Memorial Day weekend to celebrate with most of my family back in the hometown of Norwalk. It's been a crazy ride writing this book.

I've pledge to post daily (pray my strength in the Lord) to update the world at large about the process and journey of taking this book from my laptop to bookshelves across the globe. Dreaming big with flat pockets.

I've already finished the paper edit of the first three chapters, so I'm liking my pace right now. I'm also sending out the query letter. The query letter is the bane of my existence. I've worked it off and on for the past three years now ... it drives me crazy. I've purchased my copy of 2010 Writer's Market a while ago and got advice from my writer friends but I still can't say I feel I've nailed it. I know they'll like the book if they would only read it but the query is the bridge. It's like the first song on the demo tape. You're still alive if they want to hear the next joint. I know it's a numbers game so I'll remain persistent in sending five query letters a day in due diligence.

Now the reason Nas & Damian Marley are the lead on this post is because their new project. If you know me personally you know Nas is in my top 3 of artist in any genre of music. Illmatic is such an important album in my life. 1994 was an important time in my life, a crossroads and Illmatic was the soundtrack in my ears. '94 gave me a few classics ... we'll the stop the train here. I don't wanna give it all away in one day. Small steps, baby steps ...

Enjoy this piece about the Distant Relatives project.

420 is everyday ...

M

Twenty4 k all day part 1

I am the proud father of two boys.

Justin, the oldest is eight years old and his little brother Kaleb is five months. I love my both of my boys but I have come to a conclusion – Kaleb has furthered this conclusion along and I must give credit where credit is due. And that conclusion is that K is an infant and as an infant he needs infant attention, I on the other hand am a writer and am always trying to find time to set these swirling ideas that are in my head to paper.

But, therein lies the rub. K and I have different agendas.

Please don’t misunderstand us; we both understand what the other needs. Additionally, we understand just how important that need is. And because of this knowledge we both know we don’t have it within ourselves to give the other what he needs in its fullness. K is gonna want to chew on things, yell, cry, take shits, throw up, etc and believe me I feel he has every right to experience and enjoy each of those actions separately as well as simultaneously. But all of these wonderful actions would probably be better appreciated under the watchful eye of a childcare professional, which I am not. A dad? Yes, and a damn good one I might add but K and I have a few things working against us.

The first obstacle is our age; well better stated it’s my age that’s the real problem. I was twenty-seven when Jus was born and I stayed home with him until he was ten months, I know for a fact I had way more energy at twenty-seven then I do right now at thirty-six. I also had a better travel situation with Jus – though I lived in Queens I did have my Maclaren a lot earlier in the game and that provided Jus and I with the mobility to search and explore the city.

Now I can’t really argue the weather aspect because both of the boys were born in September but I can argue the age perspective I mentioned earlier – if I am completely honest with myself, its not really an age thing as much as it is a place in life thing. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself, back to K … Now Kaleb is in need of constant attention because of his newness to this world, he needs someone who will make sure the day is orchestrated concerning him. Now the writer living within me has taken the position of lobbyist to remind me that one needs time and space to create and the chances of time and space with an infant under your charge might be asking for too much.

But that's when the father in me steps up rather slowly and purposefully to state his case, he reminds me that these Kaleb moments only happen as they happen and when they are gone I will be left with only nostalgic melancholy as I wish I could bring them back. This, the father in me reminded those in attendance was an actual fact of parenthood. My mind was instantly filled with a rush of memories – pushing Jus on the swing at the park, taking naps (a personal favorite), watching Blue’s Clues, Dora, The Wiggles, Sesame Street, and a whole host of other shows I still know the theme songs to if spotted a bar or two.

The joy of a stare so deep into your child’s eye that you swear you saw each other’s souls, even if just for a second … shit nah, I wasn’t going to pass that up!

He had me; his argument was so eloquent, so focused on the aspect of time within the dance that is childhood and parenthood. And most importantly he was right.

Justin was raised on the theory of all the things I thought a child would need … simple shit. Like, a kid needs to spend time with his father. Throughout our eight-year relationship Justin and I have played video games, put puzzles together, watched certain movies hundreds of times over, played catch, wrestled, had light-saber battles (which, he cheats at I must add), and many more seemingly bland activities. I think I would have thrown out good coin for any of these bland activities with my dad when I was growing up but I grew up in a different era; my father worked hard, he worked long hours, and he basically belonged to the people of the world in which he felt called.

Simply reflecting on my childhood gave me a pretty basic plan of how I wanted to approach parenthood during my late-twenties. By the time Justin was ten months old I was preparing to return to work but I knew those months we spent together would provide me the closeness as he grew. My theories are simple, the more time I spend with my boys the better but this time with K began to challenge those thoughts – I began to feel the pull of professional advancement combined with a twist of personal redemption and started to lose focus.

random thoughts ...

I remember most of the details from that evening, not every specific detail but the important ones. I’m pretty sure it was a summer night because I would have remembered it being cold, or snow, or some other dramatic shit like that; plus I’m sure I was outside the house in summer gear.

What I do remember is the flash of uninhibited and unchecked anger – the rush of power that came along with it as well as the evil satisfaction of finally telling him that he would pay. That one day he would need me, he would want me to pay attention to him, he would need the shine from the sun within my universe in order to deflect his deep freeze but we were both too blind – a direct result from our tag team eye gouging competition - to find away to avoid that destiny.

I’m sure the neighbors must have heard each and every word of my deranged rant – promising everything my bitter, hurt, and damaged emotions could utter; ranging from colorful and descriptive oaths to personally usher in his heinous and in my demented eyes, most triumphant murder. To simply promising that my goons will throw his fucking miserable ass a beating.