I Miss the GTD Playlist

While trying to write my first sex scene in a long time I was trying to get myself in the mood by playing music. Now I have over 18,000 songs and setting up a playlist to get me in the mood is kind of easy.

Those songs take me back.

But again if you listen to the songs nowadays you don’t get the same thing. It’s like a full dinner without the appetizer.Remember those mixtapes that you used to put together? Or the quiet storm?It was soft and sensual that got people in the mood.Back when my father was a young man, listening to any of these songs meant that was going to Get The Draws (hereby known as GTD).

I’ll Be There The Jackson 5
Let’s Stay Together – Al Green
Let’s Get It On – Marvin Gaye
First Time Ever I Saw Your Face – Roberta Flack
Love To Love You Baby – Donna Summer
Three Times A Lady – The Commodores
Slow Jam – Midnight Star
Let’s Get It On – Marvin Gaye
Lady – The Whispers
Turn Off The Lights – Teddy Pendergrass
How Can Yo Mend A Broken Heart – Al Green
As We Lay – Shirley Murdock
We Both Deserve Each Other’s Love – L.T.D.
Cry Together – The O’Jays
Never Let You Down – Maze
Sail On – Commodores
You Are Everything – The Stylistics
You Are My Lady – Freddie Jackson
I’ve Got Love On My Mind – Natalie Cole
I’ve Got So Much To Give – Barry White

Nice list huh … If I was to put of every song from my father’s era, this blog entry would take up so much bandwidth my internet service provider would thing I’m posting the damn things to share.

And I haven’t even mentioned the stuff from the Isley Brothers. Before the band broke up (and Ron turned into a dirty old man and a tax cheat), they were consistent in putting out a GTD banger every year.

Some of the hits include “Summer Breeze”, “For The Love Of You, Pts. 1 & 2”, “Voyage to Atlantis”, “Grove With You”, “Choosey Lover”,

“Footsteps in the Dark” and my favorite (and the one that I know that I’m going make the future Mrs. Dawg pregnant by), “Between the Sheets.”

Yes, the GTD song was a staple of many of a household. Your boy did the same and thanks to MP3s I was able to work not one but two lists depending if I knew it was a Pre-GTD night or a for sure GTD night.

Sadly enough now, I can’t even tell you a list of songs to get busy with. I mean sure we get a couple of nice ones like “Bed” from J Holiday and “Last Time” by Trey Songz but these aren’t songs that I think that Rappers are going to sample or my children are still going to use to get their wives pregnant.

Now its all about GTD in the literal sense. When singers used to tell women how much they loved them, now it’s about literally getting ass on wax.

I mean now we are putting our sexual fantasies on records.

But I didn’t start this post to bash the current state of R&B, I want to praise the GTD song list.

Everyone needs one … its just too bad that we can only pull songs from the past rather than the present.

Letter To The BlackWoman

Hello Blackwoman,

It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to you woman to man.

No B.S. No Bluster. No Strum und Drang. Just two people sharing thoughts and ideas.

You remember the days don’t you? Those happy times back in the day we had a love for you. It was a good love. It was a love that said that we had to have each other’s backs because the world was against us.Either marching with Martin or using Necessary Means with Malcolm, we didn’t care. We told the world frequently and often that “You were All I Needed To Get By”, that “Ain’t No Mountain was High Enough” or love was “Solid” We loved each other, wanted each other, cared for each other.

Through thick and thin, through lynchings and cross burnings, through fire hoses and dogs … we had each other.

Unfortunately, things changed. I’m not sure when but suddenly it wasn’t fashionable for Blackmen to love you as much as they did before. No more did we praise you in music and word and quite frequently we failed to acknowledge your presence as the backbone of the Black Experience.

So because Blackmen hurt you by our words and actions, we became less of a desirable option for you to be with, to support and to honor.

No one should put blame on the other. We were both at fault … and the chasm grew wider. So times passed and our kids didn’t have the same love for each other.

Supahead was more than just a word to some people, she was an industry to herself. R. Kelly was using Blackgirls as his own urinal, all the while singing about the “Bump and Grind.”

So the anger boiled over and now simple hellos from Blackwomen and Blackmen are now met with skepticism from the other party.

Now when we were talking about each other like it was cold and disrespectful. We described each other in way different term:

“Nigga’s Ain’t Shit.”
“Bitches Ain’t Shit But Hoes and Tricks.”

We don’t talk to each other Blackwoman. I’ve had a hand in that personally and for that I need to apologize.

However we both know that we can’t continue doing this to each other. Because for all the screaming we are doing at each other:

“The Attitude … That’s why I don’t date sistas!”
“White Men know how to treat a Black Woman!”

It doesn’t solve the problem, it doesn’t give the answer and all we get is white noise.

I still love you Blackwoman and deep down I know that you love me too. I know that this is only a temporary blip on the radar. Soon the Blackman is going to get his shit to together in a way that it was before Malcolm, Martin and Medella.

We have too … we got too. Because we have kids out there who think its okay to say “I Need A Soulja,” “Project Bitch” “Hood Boy” or “Bad Bitch.”

These are not labels that should be for the future mothers and fathers of our children.

Because if we don’t there won’t be any of US any more.

Story Scene … For Adults Only

The rain washed against her window pane and even though it was just outside her reach she could hear tap, tap, tap of each water droplet.

It beat with a rhythm that should have been soothing. Soft. Subtle. Sanguine.

Instead it beat that burrowed inside her and seemed Sensual. Sexual. Seductive.

She found herself sighing in reaction.

Tap. Tap. Tap.The rain picked up in intensity which exponentially increased the urge that she immediately felt in other parts of her of herself.They seemed to thump, thump, thump with an exciting yet maddening thrill.It was the preverbal itch that she could not scratch.

She needed – no craved something more. She missed a soft sensual touch that usually accompanied soft sensual kisses that usually preceded soft sensual lovemaking

She stood up in bed while reaching to her right where her customary glass of wine and Black and Mild Cigar was still waiting for her. In a combination of moves she lit the cigar and drank the remaining bits of wine left from the previous hours of drinking.

Suddenly a flash tore through the sky just outside her window. Lighting.

Its appearance tormented her with its beckoning call while the rain outside was poured harder.

Silently she resorted to an old childhood staple in which she counted the seconds…

“One Mississippi, Two Mississip–”

…To the thunder. It rumbled harder and seemingly echoed just a powerfully inside her soul as well as the outside of the house.

This made the “hunger” speak with a nearly inhuman voice.

It didn’t help that she was naked and could feel her own nipples harden just under the sheet that kept her from being exposed to the elements.

She was hoping her glass of wine and a freshly lit Black and Mild would do the job to calm the urge inside her. However she already was up to a steady pace of four puffs for every swallow of wine but she still did not feel any more comfortable than when she started.

The rain still mocked her but she couldn’t help but turn towards the window and stare at it.

Suddenly, she felt a brush against her spine. It traveled softly from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.

She smiled.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” She said softly, familiar with touch. “I thought you would be working.”

“It can wait.” He told her. “It’s raining.”

She felt him still touching him. This time he was mapping the contours of her body with his whole hands as he was a faith healer looking to heal her.

It did more than that.

The rain was lustfully having fun playing with her emotions and her loins. She succumbed, turned and kissed him passionately.

Their tongues and lips met and she could taste the exciting taste of this passionate moment.

That and the black and mild that she smoked earlier.

The smoke passed from her mouth into his before it escaped into his nostrils and out into the open air.

She moaned her approval of the trick she just performed.

She heard him moan as well. She wasn’t sure that he was feeling the moment or the emotion that he had held for her for so long.

She kissed him again.

This time with more passion than before this time she pulled him tightly against her body. She could feel the thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat in several locations both above and down below.

She knew he had to go back to work but she knew that they both wanted to milk every possible moment into this single act.

She felt his heartbeat and his member getting harder.

“Damn.” She exclaimed. Her lips feasted on his as if there were no other nourishment that could contain her.

He fought against her slightly and attempted to pull away from her and echo her sentiment. “You are so damn–”

The woman grabbed the back of his head and pulled him close to her again. Time was passing and she no longer wanted to wait.

She needed him.

She hungered for him.

The rain agreed.

With much force from her part, she tore off his clothes. There was limited light but she could easily make out his bare, muscular, chocolate form and it made her purr at the seemingly delicious sight.

Without further thought, she reached out, grabbed him below the waist, and like a magnet pulled him in her direction.

It did not take much time before he was at the entrance of her inner sanctum.

She saw him smile and threw him one in less than a second.

In even less time than that he had entered her. She could feel the warmth and the full length of his member as he slid into her.

She heard herself hiss lustfully.

“Take me.” She commanded.

He responded by pulling back slightly and her womanhood gripped him tightly.

Her hands rubbed across his face lovingly and urged him to do the business that nature urged them to do.

She saw him close his eyes and reared back his head in exhilarating triumph as he began to move. Slowly at first, but as each moment continued his movements became much-hurried in pace.

Thanks to the rain, she was already on the edge so she needed that gentle push from him to send her over that edge.

She tried to control herself but his movements made that impossible … damn she was close.

He leaned close to her ear and in a voice just above a whisper, he told her of the things that she was doing to him. The way that she called his name, the way that she touched his wanting flesh, the way that her thrust met his . . . they were stroking the fires deep inside him.

He told her other words both naughty and nice to convey his feelings to her, she responded by saying his name again. She surprised him further by running her nailed fingers across his back.

A roar of pleasure was trapped inside her throat. When it was finally released, moments later, it nearly shook her to the core because of its near animalistic magnitude.

“Sheeet,” She cooed, knowing well enough what she was doing to him.

He kissed her again. However, this time he paced himself and delivered a long and laborious kiss to her

With her eyes now closed, she could feel him as he felt his way around her body…

Touching her face…

Touching her neck…

Touching her full and heaving breasts….

All while she urged him and pleaded for him not to wait any longer.

The rain increased with tympanic force creating a symphony that they hungrily made love to.

The sexual power that surged through the two of them fueled them to do things within the act of lovemaking that they once thought they could not try before.

Exotic things…

“Ohhhh,” she moaned.

…Erotic things…

“Yesss.” He groaned.

…Enticing things…

“Uhhh,” They both moaned.

They seemed to make the experience more favorable for both parties.

They continued … thrusting and arching … arching and thrusting … moving as one entity engrossed in physical pleasure.

The movement of their bodies continued with near perfect erotic precision. She was the ying to his yang as each movement he gave met with an equal and pleasing reaction from her. They wanted to make this trip together.

They had plenty of time.

They had plenty to give.

The lust inside them built to such a feverish pitch that if the energy they expelled were capable of combustion, her home would have been engulfed in flames.

“I’m on fire.” She heard him say, oblivious to the irony of the statement.

She delivered another kiss to him quickly. Her tongue did wonders inside of his mouth and made her even dizzier with anticipation of the moment.

He edged her onward with naughty words. In the back of her mind, she knew that within a few moments she would take that leap from the edge…

She growled.

…they leapt from the edge into the abyss…

He moaned.

“More…”

“Yessss…”

Suddenly…

He grabbed her hand and leapt with her into that place at the exact moment when she felt his seed was released from him. As if it was fate, it mingled with hers and truly made the lovers one. The both shivered slightly as she received him.

They slowly drifted from their plateau into the reality of the real world. At that moment, they could have cared less about their surroundings. All they wanted in the world was in each other’s arms and nothing riches or otherwise could have made things better than this moment.

Meanwhile the rain continued to fall unabated.

For the first time since she started … she didn’t care.

Super Tuesday and Black Writting.

So voting this morning went variably smoother than I thought it would be. I got in and out in less than 15 minutes. My polling place was listed inside a church and found it odd because I thought there was something about the separation of Church and State going on here.

But alas, I put in my vote for my man Obama and kept it moving.

Looking at the touch screen I was reminded that I was doing my part to make history. I was only 18 the last time I had a chance to vote for the Black Candidate and despite what folk are saying he has a good chance to win.

In 84 and 88 Jesse Jackson ran for president. I would tell you how I voted in those elections but I’m so afraid of dating myself.

You know, this election has taken up most of my mind for the moment. Well that and the fact have been trying to start this new book. I’m saying trying because my brain hasn’t been working like it supposed to. I have been itching to start writing now because damnit … I’m a writer and I’m a writer that needs to have his book published.

Looking what’s on the black literary landscape, I’m sure it might be a slight improvement to what is out there. Why it is that most of the stuff out there is about. Getting’ over … Getting Paid.

And do we really have to have another tell-all sex novel. Geez, I’m wondering where are all the good writers at? Writing at the most should inspire as well as entertain.

Now it’s all about noise.

When I was younger, my father used to give me a book to read every week. I would have to read, comprehend and tell my father what was down with the book and what I liked about it.

I don’t think I could have that conversation with my dad now about any of the book out there.

Anyway I’m sure I’ll have more comments when the election results come in.

Happy SuperTuesday Eve!!!

Tomorrow 2/05/08 is Super Tuesday, Tsunami Tuesday or whatever the hell they are calling it. For those who don’t know 24 US states will be having their separate caucuses or primaries tomorrow. I live in Georgia so I’ll be doing my thing at my local polling office (which is in a church surprisingly) before heading into the job.

This has been a very interesting time to follow politics with history being made with every turn. I am damn interested to see what happens.

That’s all I got to say right now. I’m sure I’ll have more when I check the results via the tube tomorrow.

So people … Get out and vote … Black Folk before you overcame people with guns, dogs and water cannons to get you the right to vote (among other things).

It’s Super Bowl People … But I’m Tired Of Firsts!

I’ve been struggling trying to think of something to write about today. Yesterday’s post was one of those deep ones that quite frankly I’m damn proud of (I actually stopped typing to give myself a golf clap on this one).

Anyway, I guess because it’s Super Bowl Sunday, I should write something about the game and put a Black Spin on it. I mean it is Black History Month and I’m in the middle of a blogathon, so I better get to it.

We are just one year from away from the momentous occasion of having two Black Coaches in the Super Bowl and have we have our first Black Coach as a winner.

But you know what? I’m tired of having firsts.

 

 

For many of the sporting arenas Black Folk have been making many inroads, but I can’t wait to get to the point where this doesn’t matter anymore. You know like the NBA.

The NBA has bad players, bad coaches, bad GMs and its rarely is it’s brought up that these people are Black. In fact its avoided like the plague.

I mean a black coach/Gm is part of the worst team in the NBA still is allowed to coach because he actually sucks ass as a person rather than because he’s black.

I just want to get to the point were this doesn’t even matter … I’ll have more tomorrow.

Enjoy the game … because if the giants win then the first winning Black GM will be a part of it.

UPDATE: This just in … Guess who spoiled the Pat’s 19-0 coronation.

I take it that Mercury Morris is happy. I mean its the only thing he still has going for him. LOL!

 

Michelle & Barack Obama Prove That Black Love Aint Dead.

Baby
To let you get away is crazy (Let you get away)
so I’m doing what it takes
To make you pledge your love to me
You see cause I’m tryna be your lady
For ever and ever baby
The picture wouldn’t be the same
If you weren’t standing next to me
Can’t you see I’m fallen“Fallen”-Mya

__________________

Black Love Ain’t Dead.

Yes, I know you heard me say it before in this and several other post but you have to know it’s true. I’m hear to tell you that despite the fact that Black Men rap about women like they were sexual accessories or black women continue to tell each other that Black Men Ain’t Shit,
Black Love for the most part is not dead.

I believe this to be true because thinking of it any other way means that I’ve given up.

I’m reminded of when I was younger and used to watch the Cosby Show. The relationship between Clair and Heathcliff Huxtable seemed so genuine in nature. They slept, fought and made up with each other in such a way that you knew that they two of them fit together.

I knew I wanted a marriage like that someday.

When I was older and in college I found myself gravitating towards the Cosby Show’s spin-off, A Different World. There were many couples who emulated Black Love but none like Dwayne Wanye and Whitley Gilbert. The two knew each other since the show’s first airing but never truly became the romantic stuff of legend until the third season when they both played a game of cat and mouse.

And who could forget the moment when Dwayne declared his love for Whitney (and she as well) on her wedding day. (For the record, if my fiancé’s ex-boyfriend comes interrupting my wedding with that he’s going to get a beatdown … church and family be dammed)

There hasn’t been much of a record of black love lately. I mean I’m sure that it’s been floating around but nothing that you could tangibly see from week to week. I mean Oprah has Steadman but I see more warmth between her and Gayle than her and Steadman. (Please note that I’m not insinuating anything … I’m just staying). Janet has Jermaine Dupri but they both stated they ain’t getting married anytime soon and she may fall out of the public eye if she puts out another garbage album.

I really did feel that hope was lost on this one. Until of course a friend of mine sent me this picture:

Pretty isn’t it.

Just a man and a woman embraced in a moment of intimacy I haven’t seen in a long time between Black Folk in public. Now of course it’s in front of a rally thrown in support of his election campaign but you can see the warmth there.

Some may say that the Michelle and Barack Obama are playing to the cameras but you see you can’t fake genuine love like that. You can’t just put on a face while you’re in front of millions and expect to turn it on when it suits the masses. (I’m looking at you Al and Tipper Gore)

People will see right through it and eat you alive. If you don’t believe me I give you this couple:

I mean come on … do you think that Bill and Hillary even look at each other like this any more:

Honestly, I don’t think that Bill has even touched that since the Monica thing and they are just trying to keep it together because Hillary needs the Secret Service Protection and our government is too cheap to spring for it for both spouses.

Well there was this one picture that leaked on the interwebs. As you can see it was a little older because Bill’s Hair hasn’t greyed from all of the stress he’s taken working on a marriage that’s clearly around for political reasons.

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Anyway, I love that Michelle and Barack seem so much in love. Now I’m not an Obama Stan, I’m just a fan of love in all of its forms and it’s good to see two seemingly attractive black folk who look like they love each other dearly.

Which is why you need to get that man into office.

A friend of mine says that you need to vote Barack into office, not because you need a middle class tax cut but you need someone to inspire Black Children towards lofty goals. I add to that by saying you need to do it to inspire Black men and Women of what to become.

Here you have a Black Man who’s not afraid of letting people know that in some cases his wife runs the show and you have a Black Woman who’s not domineering and occasionally acquiesces to her man.

A couple that would include a Black Man who is intelligent and a Black Woman who is his equal. Imagine the possibility of this concept that is not a fictional creation but rather a real life counterpart that would play out week to week.

Seriously, wouldn’t it behoove not only Black America but America as a whole to see a loving couple run this country back into health.

I pray that is the case.

Because for every Rap song that brings out the worst in men or every woman that does the same type of dirty, I’m going to need that balance again.

I’m going to need my Clair and Heathcliff Huxtable to show me that Black Love Ain’t Dead.

If you want that to you should be thinking of the same.

Barack and Michelle ’08.

Musings … Crank Dat and Darling Nikki

It’s the first day of the 32-day blogathon that my friend Mamalicious! Asked me to be a part of and I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of something to put down. Although I know you guys thrill at me putting stuff down, I’m pretty sure that new people will be visiting the site and I’ll have to step my game up and put in more than, “Worked out today … feeling tired … more later.”

It’s like leaving a dirty house and inviting company over.

I’ll try to put something in fresh and exciting but between this and the book I’m starting, you might get some nuggets that sink like stones in their delivery.

With that disclaimer out of the way I thought I would start with the topic that black blogisphere wanted to touch on today (and every Friday): Black Music.

I specifically wanted to talk about the lack of quality lyrics in today’s black music. Now don’t get me wrong I just a week ago trumpeted the sheer joy of listening to music in a Strip Club because at times I really don’t want redeeming values in my music.

I’m also 38 years old and an adult so I should be allowed purchase and view things that I like. And I’m not going to be one of those writers who spout on about how the music has changed from when I was younger. People got to make money somehow … but some of this stuff on the airwaves today is just insane.I’m Bouncin On My Toe
Watch Me Super Soak Dat (OH!)
I’ma Pass It To Arab
Then He Gon Pass It To The Low (Low)

That lyric is from the “poet” Soulja Boy who has let me (and millions people) know that its okay to cum on a woman’s back without her knowing so that her sheet sticks to back. I’m not a prude but knowing that bit of information while this song is being played at Professional, College and yes even High School Sporting events puts everything in focus.

I remember when I was younger and my sister and my mom loved Prince. One day she was playing the Purple Rain album and listening with my mom and I and having a good ol’ time.

Darling Nikki was playing at the time.

I knew a girl named nikki
I guess u could say she was a sex fiend
I met her in a hotel lobby
Masturbating with a magazine
She said howd u like 2 waste some time
And I could not resist when I saw little nikki grind

This never bothered my mother for some reason because she heard “worse” from Millie Jackson records.

This was the same woman who for her own Album cover (titled “Back to the Shit”) had her taking a squat on a toilet.

And People Talk About 50 Cent.

So while we “partying down” my father walks into the house and catches my moms reciting the lyrics of Darling Nikki.

“What the fuck?” My father screams.

“What?” My mom says seemingly shocked.

“What the hell are you doing singing about masterbating magazines?” He asked. “In front of the fucking kids!!”

The irony of my father cursing in front of me and my sister was lost on me until I got older. My father being the stern military man was okay with his kids listening to swear words, or watching violent movies was one thing … watching, talking or even looking at sex was another.

Did I mention that my father had his own porno stash hidden in the closet back then?

Okay so long story short because of that song my father literally banned the Purple Rain from the house. This included movies, posters from the movie … even pictures cut out from Right-On Magazine.

You know that’s fucked up when Right-On has to pay the price. But that was my father … he didn’t want to shield his kids from anything … except SEX.

Every time I watch an NBA game or like this event…

…I’m wondering if these folks have parents like I did. I can imagine my dad going ballistic over the song … but not for the use of SupaMan Dat Hoe (because quite honestly who would know that but freaks anyway) but rather for the word Hoe.

Then again my dad is old school … it probably would have flown over his head too.

Anyway I that is it for post number 1 of I hope will be some interesting posts.

Hell I got 31 one of these bad boys to go.

Messing Around Writing Today And Look What I Did!!!

Here’s something I was F#cking around with while writing in my house today. It took about 2 hours and it covers about 1100 words. I really do believe that I’m back.

She greeted him at the door with a smile. Dressed in the simplest of things, a blue NC Tar Heels Tee Shirt and a pair of jogging pants, she looked as if she was not expecting company. She was just a woman that was settling down from a long day.

She had a dancer’s body. One that was lean, taut and never looked like it required much effort to keep in such fantastic shape.

“Glad you could make it.” She told him through a set of plump lips. She silently grabbed his hand and pulled him into her apartment. Her apartment had a nice feel to it and he wanted to notice more but he was focused on her look.

Her dreaded hair reminded him of looking like licorice as it was pulled back from her face.

A face which reminded him of the pieces of Kraft Caramels he ate as a kid.

She sat down in a nearby couch and faced him.

A big screen television watched over the two of them as she started deeply into his eyes.

“We need to talk.” She told him.

Those dreaded words that all guys hated to hear. Never had five words covered so many topics yet was mysterious in it subject matter.

He knew he was wading into dangerous waters but he decided to dive right in. “About what?”

“About last night.”

“Last night?”

Her brow furrowed before she answered. “Right,” her speech slowed slightly as if she was trying to convieg the message he was missing to him. “Last … Night.”

He looked at her with a dead stare. There were so many answers to the statement about what happened, each of them potential mindfields. He sure was not as hell going to step on any and set something off when he didn’t need to do.

“God, you’re so fucking stubborn.” She hissed. “I’m talking about last night … you know when we fucked on this couch.”

He wasn’t trying to be stubborn but the previous night was so out of the ordinary that….

“I chalked it up to something you didn’t want to talk about again.” He told her.

She raised an eyebrow. “So I just go around sleeping with my competitors just because.”

“No,” He told her. “But sometimes shit happens.”

That’s all he could tell her for that moment. Anything else to try to put a description on things would drive the two of them crazy. It wasn’t good for their line of work and definitely not good because they were supposed to be professionals.

“So that’s how we are leaving it.” She said. “Shit happens.”

“Yes.” He told her. “Anything else would be cheapening the respect we have for each other and the business.”

“You are such a god damn bastard, you know that.” She told him. He turned to face her and was smacked in the face with another statement. “You sit here and make seem like there was only one party here doing something. When all the time you wanted it too.”

She was right. She came along at the right time as he hadn’t had sex in months.

It had been so long that he was no longer keeping count with a little M but rather with a huge large shaped, emblazed scarlet letter shaped M.

He was not a sex fiend that had to have it several times a day to keep his sanity. No, he was a normal red blooded American male who needed the feel of a woman once in a while to make him feel alive at times.

So when last night happened. When their bodies touched and he could feel the passion that the two of them generated, he knew that he what had to be done. And suddenly he let go of the time of Months, Days, Hours, Minutes and several fucking seconds that he even had a moment such as last night.

Working at the Kit Kat Klub last night didn’t help.

And it didn’t help that she was the owner’s favorite dancer … and girlfriend.

“Johnny is going to kill both of us if he finds out.” He said sternly. “That’s why this shit stays dead right here and right now.” He paused and turned back to her. “You feel me.”

She smiled at him again. “Now you want to play the bouncer role again.”

“It’s gotten me this far.” He said. He thought about the fact that in mere hours he had to be back at work. Watching. Waiting. Wondering.

She rose from the couch like at she was ambers from the flame. As she walked closer to him, he noticed her ample features, her sweet curves and could think of nothing else but taking her in her arms and doing things to her right then and there.

“Tianna,” he said. “I don’t have time for this.”

She came closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He could smell the shampoo from her hair.

It was intoxicating.

It took all of his strength to push her away. “Quit Fucking around T!” He quickly backed away from her again and moved closer to the door. “Unless you got something else to say that doesn’t include fucking then I’m out.” He reached for the doorknob.

“How about I know of a way you can get revenge on who killed your brother and get paid doing it?”

He knew that Johnny was in on his brother’s murder but he couldn’t put anything together. He got a job at the Kit Kat Klub so he could be close to Johnny and keep his eyes and ears out for something to bring the bastard down.

It took a while but he was in the inner circle.

Now all the months of planning, secrets and undercover dealings that he used to get to this point was going to be foiled by a exotic dancer named TNT.

Donald Goines couldn’t have written this fuck-up any better than this.

He quickly whipped around to face her.

“You don’t know shit about what is going on T.”

“I know that Johnny killed your brother.” She stated. “And the only way you are going to get back at him is that you hit him where it hurts.”

“Where’s that?”

“In the wallet,” She told him.

He gave her a stone cold look not trying to seem too anxious but at the same time needing to desperately know what she knew.

“I could give you some info if you like.” She purred.

Against his better judgment, he took a seat next to her and said, “Hook me up.”

 

I Love Love!

So I want to write this love story. Not just any love story but something that will perhaps finally say something that I’ve been trying to say for the longest.

Black Love Ain’t Dead.I know this is a shock coming from a person in my position with no steady girlfriend or even prospects on the horizon. However I’m a believer in love and all of the joy that it’s brought to me and my friends. Love in any form in a good thing and I challenge anyone to say different.

I know what you’re saying, “But Dawg should you really be talking with your slate of those fucked up women on your list.”

I say to you … Yes.

Scratch that … HELL YES.

If you need to know the ins and outs of a football game are you going to go to a rookie or a professional? I say to you that I am a professional … I’ve dated all types of women in all types of situations. So I know what’s up … you ain’t going to find a bigger cheerleader for love than you will me.

Again I say: I AM A PROFESSIONAL … I AM ALWAYS IN LOVE’S CORNER.

Love has meant more to me than a lot of things. I’m talking about all sorts of love: Friendship Love, Romantic Love, Parental Love … etc.
I know I write a lot in this blog about hating the dating game, drinking the hateraide when it comes to some women or even wanting to give up on dating as a whole, but as always I remain a true believer even at my lowest point.

So just because you are at a low point don’t mean that you stay there.

You know they always say that the biggest cynics are incurable romantics and I guess that’s me. I don’t feel that I’ve been placed on this planet to be alone. In fact before all of this doubt and self hate that I used to have, I always ran into one romantic adventure after another.

As my friend , The Doctor used to tell me. “What I like about you is that you always get back on that horse.”

I think I have both reins this time.

So in the past I gave up a lot of my loves because I hated myself for mistakes that I made.

Writing.

Sex.

Love.

I tossed them to the side plenty of times because I wasn’t feeling worthy of any of it.

But I’m back … at least I think I am. I keep hearing from folk that Black Love is dead but for some reason I don’t think that way.

Well at least not all the way. As the Doctor once said, “Black Love Ain’t Dead … But It’s Sure As Hell On Life Support.”

I’m a Stan for love but I’m not totally loony in thinking that sugar drops and rainbows are going to fix all the problems in the Black community. We all need to do our part … change the mindset that pointing fingers negatively will change the negativism.

So when someone tells me that the bad things about Black Men and Black Women, I’m going to remind them of how we are Black Kings and Queens that helped built this country. I’m going to remind them bow Black Men and Black Women raised pastors, ambassadors, inventors and (maybe) a Black President. I’m going to remind them that with out the love of a Black Man and A Black Woman They would be the person that they are now.

I believe that things are going to be the way they once were … they have to be.

God didn’t create me to be alone … or shunning my advocacy for Love.

And I’m going to start with that love story I’m going to write.

More later.