READERS, MY MEMOIR/ FICTION BOOK… ALL THE LIES ARE TRUE…

THE STORY OF MY BLACK POWER/HIPPIE YEARS IN 1970s LOS ANGELES..

IS SCHEDULED FOR RELEASE LATE DECEMBER 2019 ON KINDLE.

(PREVIEW CHAPTERS WILL BE RELEASED ON BLOG SITE IN COMING WEEKS).

TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS.

AND THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING MY WORDS !

9/11

The anxiety hung thick in the boxy apartment air.

I listen to the talking heads on the morning news report on the memory of this most horrible and Sad day.

It was the backdrop for what proved to be my 911.

Waiting in the courtroom lobby. My heart pounding outside my chest. Nervousness and fear mounting as I try to remain calm.

He walks in confident. Speaks, smiles as if we are meeting for a drink. Sits 100 yards away per the Order.

His lawyer cockily approaching me with a sh*t eating grin. Extends his clammy hand. Calls me by my first name.You don’t have to talk to me. I know. And I do not.

Why do Men still feel the need to intimidate US? No, I am not a lawyer. I am unrepresented. I have been victimized… Again. I Know my rights. I know the law. I am prepared to Fight.

For Me. For nameless women through the ages. Held hostage by a man’s control.

Abused emotionally/ mentally/physically by men we trust. By men we thought we loved.

The stoic judge acknowledges me and hears my case.

His attorney tries to mock me. To question the facts I present. But instead angers the judge. And ends up making a fool of himself and his client. His $1200 attorney fee for could have paid my support for several months.

The gavel sounds. Two years of Protection. Two years of No contact.

How did we get here? What makes a loved one become one we fear, a stranger we no longer recognize?

How Did You Get Here? The old RnB song plays over and over in my head.

I wait in the lobby again. Papers are being prepared.

He sits 100 yards away. His lawyer head down. Both sullen, silent.

I should be happy. But just feel relief. Feel like I can breathe once again.

And then the News. A one line text. My Friend has passed.

My Best Friend. My Only GurlFriend. My Ride or Die Friend. My I got your back Friend. My I can call you Anytime of Anyday and talk about Anything Friend.

On this saddest most remembered day when thousands of lives were lost. My Friend has slipped away… without my saying goodbye.

Too consumed with the drama of a broken heart, broken marriage, broken life.

I sit stiffly on the courtroom bench and The silent tears fall.

CAN WE TALK…

So happy

so anxious

to devour
Your

words.

Did I detect
a Tone
Somewhat

concerning.

You feeling that
I didn’t really know

Who you are
And What

We could Be?

Fragments of conversations

From phone calls
so long
Ago.

Hold on now gurl, you have been this Way

Before…

But I rush

forward

Relishing

The words.

The sounds

The smells.

Libras you know

Love Luv

Seek Beauty

Revere Balance.

In a perfect world

(Or Quebec)

That might work.

But You

Brought back

my Smile

The quickening

in my chest

The swing

in my Walk.

You brought

back

ME.

Defenses way

Way up.

Been hurt

so many damn
Times Before.

By Men with

Another Woman

Or Two

Even an unloved

But very much

Present

Wife.

I am cautious.
I am critical.
I am impatient.
I am demanding.

But I am also

Ready.

THE EXCITING/ADVENTUROUS/NO GOOD/HORRIBLE/ TERRIBLE VEGAS TRIP pt1

Recently, several people have inquired how I got into the business of Blogging. Although my profession was teaching, I fancied myself a writer having authored several nonfiction texts for young people and labored over the Ultimate Memoir/Fiction tome-All The Lies Are True.

I was also a modern day Griot (storyteller) and known for regaling party goers, polite strangers and insomniac phone callers with my tales.

After a life changing visit to Vegas, I found myself retelling the adventure over and over to the delight of the listeners. (Funny how people take pleasure in others’ misery).

So I decided to start a Blog and post the Vegas Tale there for all the world to see.

It is a long tale. But each segment ONLY takes 6 min. To Read

I will be posting it in weekly segments… always conscious of the time constraints of busy Readers.

Part 1 awaits…..Enjoy!

It all started back in March when the Unnamed one asked me to accompany him on a trip to the wild wild west for a family reunion.

Mind you, this is not his true family, but some kind people he lived with as a teen and who considered him their ‘brother’.

I had previously accompanied the Unnamed one a few years prior to the lovely Myrtle Beach for a similar event and made note that June in MB is akin to running with scissors.

But the chance of going to Vegas made me go blind and lose my mind for a moment and I said yes.

Blinded by the visions of desert, cactus, prairie flowers, casinos, bright lights, and the Bellagio fountain, plans were made, Expedia was googled, booking a wonderful package via Delta complete with a room with a view at the mgm grand.

My first hint that something was askew happened when Delta changed our return flight time. This meant we either checked out of the hotel and wandered the halls of the grand (must be a marketing ploy for the casino) or pay for a whole ‘nother night and remain in the room a few hours until flight time.

But problem solved when I remembered I was in possession of a coupon for a free room in Vegas courtesy of eldest daughter T who had sweet talked me and my cash into going with her and youngest daughter J in the dead of February to Atlantic city via the ‘hound’. That is another Adventure not to be regaled here.

For all of you horror movie fans, this is when the music changes and you start to clutch your seat.

What I failed to notice in the email from Delta was not only had Delta changed the flight time, they had also assigned us new seats which were 12 rows apart from each other!

Did I mention that neither the Unnamed one nor I had been on a plane since 911? I, who used to blithely fly from LA to the East Coast and then anywhere else my wandering soul wanted to go, suddenly found myself earthbound and limited to snail travel.

But we rationalized it would be foolish to drive or take the train to Vegas. The only way to go was in the friendly skies and besides we would be together if something happened, wouldn’t we?

And we’re off…bright, sunshiny morning. Bags weighed and measured, liquids and powders in right sized containers, easy to remove shoes…we were the perfect travelers.

I got pulled over by the TSA as soon as I walked through the scanner. The frisker said it was my cell phone. What? it’s in the bin like the sign said. Wand waver took out a special cloth and calmly wiped the phone around the edges, slid it across a machine and smirked, You’re okay…have a nice flight.

And a nice flight was had by all. An hour and a half later, we descended into ATL with enough time to grab lunch and run/walk/take a people mover to the gate for our connecting flight.

Did I mention that the Unnamed one sustained an insect bite while we were in the ATL airport? (I think they are attracted to people with high alcohol counts in their blood).

This Reader, is what is known in literary circles as Foreshadowing.

We arrived in Vegas tired but happy to be on the ground. The temperature was a mere 100 degrees as we waited for a pricey shuttle to take us to the mgm grand. They did not offer free service, one of the many things I was about to learn about the not so grand, grand.

Business was a little slow at the front desk, however, a couple next to us was engaged in a serious discussion with the clerk about the condition of their room.

Words like substandard, dank, dismal were being tossed around by the angry, red faced man. Having been the recipient of some poorly outfitted hotel rooms in the past, I was all ears and calmly asked the clerk about the room we were being given.

She looked at me as if I had had just arrived from Pluto and said tartly, It is a king like you requested, ma’am and is 350 square feet!

She then pointed to pictures from a notebook showing what seemed to be a modern, stylish room.

After paying the abhorrent daily ‘resort fee’ (not mentioned in the Expedia small print), She politely directed us to the West Wing where we were instructed to walk down a long corridor, turn left, pass through the bar, continue on to the row of elevators that would deliver us to our suite.

Hah, words fail me. The corridor was indeed long and dark and painted with some metal gray color left over from a battleship. The rug reeked with the scent of wet feet and musk. I could barely breathe by the time we got to the room, as we were in what appeared to be the basement of the grand.

And the room. Someone must have photoshopped the picture she showed us. Yes, it had a king bed, but there was no desk, no drawer, no tub…only a shower and the view of an alley. It didn’t even have a coffee pot.

I later learned that Starbucks was doing booming business selling caffeine craving guests their expensive $10 a cup coffee.

Motel 6 had better rooms, I groaned. But this was the great mgm grand. Beyoncé and Jayz had stayed here. Surely, there had been a mistake.

I was disheartened but summoned up the strength after our $70 dinner of Mexican food (isn’t that just beans and cheese?) to call Expedia and complain about the accommodations.

Any of you readers who have dealt with these third party booking services already know what I am about to tell you.

The representative was in the Philippines. He was reading a script. He was sorry I was having a problem. But there was nothing to be done.

Oh, you want to speak to my supervisor? She is in a neighboring country, but hold on a minute.

20 minutes later. The supervisor connected. She listened patiently. And then informed me that she would note my concern about the room and the misleading information on the website for Future use.

BUT I would have to take up the room issue with the grand because Expedia had NO relationship with them and no power to change the room. Is there anything else I can help you with?

The heat, the stifling air, the loud noises of partygoers in the hallway, the sudden 4 hour time change And the two margueritas And shot of Patron together with the $70 nouveau chille relleno all conspired against me and I surrendered to that wonderful panacea…sleep.

I would deal with this, or rather I would have the Unnamed one deal with this in the morning.

But wait, tomorrow was our trip to the Grand Canyon and the bus was scheduled to leave at 6 a.m. sharp…was that eastern or mountain time…so the room issue would have to wait.

And so will you dear Reader for Part 2 of the Exciting, Adventurous, no good, horrible, terrible*Las Vegas trip.

(*Reference to popular children’s book about Alexander)

Love and Light! Comments always welcomed.

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MEN ARE MARS/WOMEN VENUS

Author and relationship expert, John Gray, PhD. really nailed it back in the 90s with his book Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. The premise of this couple’s manual is that men and women have such different needs and expectations, they may as well be from different planets. The book sold millions of copies and spent over 100 weeks on the best seller list.

Hailed by the couples’ therapy community as the bible of male/female understanding, this book finally threw all the cards on the table and enlightened millions of bewildered men and women (mostly women) who made their way through its pages. A shrewd marketing person even came out with the book on tape version making it accessible to those non-readers who could gain enlightenment on their morning commute.

Being a lover of all things Venus, I too purchased a copy of this book and after devouring its pages attempted to have a conversation with husband #3, the Keeper of All Knowledge.

Blah, Blah, Blah…was all I remembered from that conversation as he immediately tried to discredit the author. I even purchased the book on tape version as a birthday present, but it remained untouched. His commute, he said, was only a few minutes and he preferred listening to country music…more relaxing…less enlightening.

So, with that and more recent lack-of-communication-events in mind, Ladies, I want to revive my call for the “Let’s Take a Holiday From Men Day”.*

Regardless of how blissful your current relationship may be, I believe that all women need some Me Time. Here are a few suggestions on how to spend your Me Day.

1. Begin by downloading Heather Headley’s In My Mind. This is soulful, Caribbean almost church with a beat music. (Did you know Me Time was co-written by Baby Face and mixed at a studio in Va Beach).

All things being equal

I always put you first

You know that I’ve been down for you.

Through better and through worse

All things being equal

Boy, I’ve been more than cool

So it seems only natural

To expect the same of you.

…I need some Me time…Not some you and some I. Just some Me time…that’s all.

Turn the volume way up and dance around in your Victoria Secrets as Heather harmonizes the anthem of Women Worldwide.

2. Next, set the TV so that No channels with balls being bounced, tossed, passed, chucked or dunked can be shown. Clean the remote (studies show it contains more germs than your toilet) with a cotton ball and a little listerine. Set the remote so only shows from Bravo, Lifetime, WE, OWN, Hallmark and PBS run continuously for 24 hours.

3. Make a special trip to the Mall and buy that purse, pair of shoes, designer dress…something that you have been eyeing for months and take it home without removing the price tag. Display it proudly, unashamedly in the front of the closet for Him to see.

4. Pull out your stash of cookbooks and clipped recipes and prepare a Meatless Gourmet Meal that is not only healthy but looks exactly like the photo. Serve your meal on the fine china you reserve for his mother together with real napkins and a long stemmed wine glass full of something French and expensive from the top shelf at Total Wine.

5. Scour the bathtub of all those male (and dog) body hairs and have a Spa experience with your favorite scents bubbling in the tub surrounded by a roomful of candles with Luther or Kem crooning softly and lovingly in the background.

6. Lastly, pull out those expensive satin sheets hidden in the back of the linen closet. Put on your most comfortable nightie…no thongs or g straps… those are for him.. unbonnet your hair, moisturize your face and have the most restful sleep you’ve had in months dreaming about how you are going to celebrate your Next Holiday from Him.

* Reblogged From 2014.

Love and Light!

Comments are always welcome, fellas…smiling

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Talking About a Revolution 

ON the 50th Anniversary of WOODSTOCK..

Liberal Lin

IMG_0094Don’t you know
They’re talking about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper…
While they’re standing in the Welfare lines/
Crying at the footsteps of those armies of salvation/
Wasting time in unemployment lines/
Sitting around waiting for a promotion/
Poor people gonna rise up/
And get their share.
c1982. SBK/purple rabbit music

Many folks think that we have come a long ways Baby and that the circumstances of America’s poor, disenfranchised, Not the talented 10th (or the Well heeled 10%) has improved since Tracy Chapman penned this song in the 80s.

I wonder.

Having been a card carrying member of the Movement during the 70s, And a poor person (I was a college student in Los Angeles working 3 part-time jobs, an unwed mother (now pc term Single Mom), a culture seeking, I love My People sistah who volunteered many wee hours growing food, cooking stew , sewing dashikis…

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