Anybody who knows me knows that I have a lot of things going on in this head of mine at any given time.  They also know, that I’m very much a dreamer, although I haven’t indulged that much in dreaming lately…but I digress.  Being a dreamer had a lot to do with having a wildly active imagination and the lack of desire to grow up.  My mother made correlations between myself and Peter Pan, but this was long before Michael Jackson came along and added an entirely different meaning to all of that.  Again, I digress.  My imagination meant I was not only into Comic Books (The Amazing Spider-Man, X-Men, etc.), but the creative minds behind them as well.  I was also a big fan of Jim Henson (the guy behind the Muppets, fraggle Rock, Sesame Street, etc.).  I still am.

Which brings me to an interestingly disturbing point:  A lot of the youth today have no idea who he is.  Even with the American Express commercial that shows who he is, they don’t know.  Hell, a lot of kids don’t even know Sesame Street like that.  If anything, they know Elmo.  That’s crazy to me.  Jim was such a big part of so many of our childhood’s it’s crazy to think there’s a disconnect with Sesame Street for crying out loud.

The point I’m trying to make is, I went to see his exhibit at the Smithsonian over the weekend.  While I was hoping to see more muppets like Animal, Fozzie, and some characters from the Dark Crystal…it was still a humbling and somewhat surreal experience.  I mean, most kids (in my age group) had some sort of sesame street something or other- I know I had an Oscar the Grouch and Ernie toy when I was little.  So to see Bert & Ernie (complete with his Rubber Duckie (quack, quack)), was crazy for me.  Like, I was able to reach out and touch my childhood, if only there wasn’t a glass case to protect the muppets of course.  Interesting sidebar- The Jim Henson exhibit had security, camera restrictions and glass cases, right?  Why did I go to a Vincent Van Gogh exhibit years ago in DC, and there was absolutely none of the aforementioned precautions.  Folks were literally touching the paintings and remarking on the texture.  Jackasses.

So all that to say (getting back to Henson), it meant a great deal to come into close proximity with a childhood hero of mine in that manner.  It reminded me that I have much to do.  There is much to create before anyone is going to place a giant timeline on the door in remembrance of what I’ve done.

On another note, the Redskins rock for beating Dallas in Dallas!  I have so many Cowgirl lovers I have to deal with on a regular basis, wining this game was bigger than normal.

What else?  I’ve been having more song than anything come to me as of late…some of it being go-go, which I don’t really listen to that often.  Don’t get me wrong, as a native of the Metro area, I am proud of the music that is unique to this region, but I don’t live and breathe go-go.  Respect to all those (past & present) that do it big though, the Essence and Junkyard’s, the Backyard’s, Groovers, Mambo Sauce’s and TCB’s…  I just wasn’t engrained in the culture like that when I was younger.  However, I will take whatever God gves me in the form of inspiration.  I don’t limit my writing to styles or genres…so, it’s whatever, slim.  That was me being DC for a sec.  “Where all the Soufside honie?”  That’s me being more DC, with classic Go Go call…

Oh, also did the liver walk this weekend.  Beautiful scenery, but I wish I could’ve given more.  So I decided I’d walk to show my support for my friend who lost her pops to liver cancer.

Anyway, gotta go…

“Tired of being broke, being broke ain’t no joke” ~ Stinky Dink

Easy,

An ominous feeling woke me out of my sleep @ 5am this morning.  Nothing life threatening or anything, but I’d rather not get into it one way or the other.  Rather than trying to fight my way back into dreamland, I decided to go ahead and get ready for the morning grind.  Naturally, I got out of the house in good time, but for some reason it took me more than twice as long to commute to the subway…traffic.  Traffic to the beltway, traffic getting off.  More traffic on the subway, as trains were on the platform ahead of us, or whatever.  My day is plodding along at a snail’s pace.  I was ready to go home the minute I got through the door this morning.  Just one of those days you’d rather be at home, you know?

On another note, I think I’ve grown quite a bit in the way I choose to handle social interaction.  I recently made a quiet decision to greatly scale back my crass sense of humor…mainly because I’m grown now, I guess.  I mean, it might have been boyishly cute, maybe even charming when I was ten years younger, but probably not to many.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t utilize that aspect of my sense of humor at every waking moment, but it did occur to me recently that there are people I’ve known for years who really think that’s pretty much all I am.  People I’ve known for over a decade, and they’ve never had an in-depth conversation about anything of any significance…and that bothered me,

I have made an effort to be more open to people, to not close myself off every time I feel un(der)appreciated or betrayed.  It has been an uneasy process, but I feel better for it.  I do find it funny that when I’m being direct, though (which I haven’t really had a problem with), that I can still be accused of trying to be slick with my words.  Eh, can’t please everybody, though.  My largest goal at this point, other than to offset this constant state of brokenness, is to get back to me on a creative level.  I feel disjointed in that regard.  It feels weird when people ask if I’ve written anything new, and I can’t really account for the last couple of years.  I mean, I’ve done some writing here and there, but much of it has nothing to do with poetry.

I have been writing a short story or novel…or whatever, though.  Hopefully I’ll stick with it…longer stories and I usually don’t mix.  I lose focus, and eventually, somebody comes out with a story like mine, but not nearly as cool…kinda like when Mario Van Peeples did “Soldier”.  Yeah, I had a much better concept in high school that I never finished up.  Underworld & Constantine, I have something better, but never frickin’ write enough to lock myself in…to make myself feel committed to finishing.  Poetry is like a quick fling, a novel is like a long term commitment…but seeing as though I’m actually confident I can do the long term commitment thing on a relationship level now, maybe that won’t be so…wow, can’t think of a good adjective.  It’s not intimidating, just sobering I guess. Working on it, though…