ms. hyde.

"everybody's got a thing

but some don't know how to handle it

always reachin' out in vain

accepting the things not worth having but

don't you worry 'bout a thing

don't you worry 'bout a thing, mama

cause i'll be standing on the side

when you check it out

they say your style of life's a drag

and that you must go other places

but just don't you feel too bad

when you get fooled by smiling faces but

don't you worry 'bout a thing

don't you worry 'bout a thing, mama....

everybody needs a change

a chance to check out the new

but you're the only one to see

the changes you take yourself through....

don't you worry 'bout a thing" 

thanks stevie. 

back to black.

"and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass

of what was everything.

all the pictures have all been washed in black

tattooed everything..."-favorite song freshman year of high school

"from childhood's hour i have not been

as others were; i have not seen

as others saw; i could not bring

my passions from a common spring.

from the same source i have not taken

my sorrow; i could not awaken

my heart to joy at the same tone;

and all i loved, i loved alone...."-favorite poet jr. high and high school

"got so sick of crying, so just lately

when i catch myself i do a 180.

i stay up, clean the house, at least i'm not drinking

run around just so i don't have to think about thinking

that silent sense of content that everyone gets

just disappears soon as the sun sets..."-current state of mind

at least i know it's a running theme, not an isolated incident. 

-mjm 

down to the nitty-gritty

something happened this morning. one of my producers had a guy die in her arms. we don't know all the details. he got stabbed on the train and fell back into her. she tried to stop the bleeding, but he died. 

last night on houston i saw a biker who'd just gotten hit by a car getting put in the ambulance. 

more illustrations of how fleeting this life is. as if i needed more...

i'm about to type stuff that will probably make me sob at my desk. whatever. only a select few friends know because i'm not the type who wants people to take pity on me or always ask me how i'm doing. 

a few months ago my 21 year old cousin got shot in a driveby. in syracuse, ny. not in bushwick or southeast dc. on a corner that i've driven by a million times, walked by a thousand times, hung out on a hundred times. down the street from my old high school. 

my cousin is like my little brother. after my parents got divorced and my mom was struggling to be a single mom, we moved in with my aunt and her two kids for awhile. 

i've changed this kid's diapers, i've made him drink as much grape soda and possible and then bounced him up and down to see what color his puke would be, (it wasn't purple), i've screamed at him for fucking up his life, i've mailed him hip hop cds, i've purchased a XXL biggie shirt for his christmas gift last year. 

when i got a phone call from his sister on a saturday morning that i couldn't understand because she was crying so hysterically, i took for granted that our grandmother had died. listening to the voicemail again, i realized that her little brother was in the hospital, clinging to life. 

being in the same state, without a car, not knowing if you should book a flight home or if it'll be too late by the time jetblue gets you there, that's the worst feeling in the world. wanting to be there for your family, to do anything, to sell your soul so that a 21 year old can live a life he's thusfar squandered. having no one to turn to but your family. not wanting to bother your friends with stressful jobs and crazy city lives with another of your family crises... 

he's ok now. sliced open. bullet removed. medically induced coma. weeks of not knowing. my aunt sitting in vigil. calling me so so so excited when he squeezed her hand or fluttered his eyelids. her little boy born 2 days after my birthday. 

remembering the cold november we went to the hospital when he was born. i was 8. my sister would be born on another frigid day, 3 months later in february.

the doctor only was able to save him because he had worked at university and treated gunshot wounds in the past. it was a freak thing that he was at community. out of 9 wounds of that nature, 8 people died. my cousin was lucky...

a month later i get the call my mom is in the hospital for the second time this year. at this point i roll with the punches. i can't be there. even if i could, i can't do anything. but catholic guilt coupled with only child syndrome rips my guts to shreds. phone calls to hospitals. threats to uncooperative nurses. offers to go fax my birth certificate to them for information since we have different last names and i am 4.5 hours away.

today my mom is fine. today my cousin is fine. 

i am changed. forever. re-prioritizing. new horizons. lust for life.

postscript...

the time before the last time that my mom was in the hospital. when i did hop that flight getting me into syracuse at midnight. cause i just knew. that she needed me. right. that. second.

driving a rental car that wasn't in my name. settling all her affairs. i didn't recognize myself. this burst of energy in my otherwise, as of late, lethargic life. TCB. 

a song kept playing on the radio in the rental car. as cheesy as it was. it was just what i needed...

"now that that don't kill me

can only make me stronger

i need you to hurry up now

cause i can't wait much longer...

i know i got to be right now

cause i can't get much wronger..."

the song is about him lusting after a girl he can't have. i plucked the old adage as the message, but "hey mama" actually fits my situation. (not the black eyed peas song.)

for dre.

hang in. hang on. 

through the woods...

"i can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. it expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past."-v.w.

"once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul. she becomes all outer show and inward emptiness; dull, callous, and indifferent."-v.w. 

somebody told me that this planet was small

philly.

lifetime's "last show" with erin in 1997.

she was running away from syracuse after a breakup and a semester taken off of college. lived at my house with 2 punk rock dudes and 1 reg guy in college park. this was right before and right after my 19th birthday.

we were both vegan. made a tofurkey for thanksgiving from scratch. and sweet potato pie. my mom came down to visit since she felt bad that it was my first "turkey day alone". not a fan of the veggie food, she asked if she could stop at the boston market on the corner for some poultry.

before the lifetime show erin and i went to cherry street. running late, we got the food to go and ate in the balcony while the band was playing.

mike was on stage taking photos. so jealous! some idiots from syracuse were "moshing" in jerseys down in front.

i only remember all this because erin took photos. the pics are blurry and terrible. we were really far away. i barely remember that show. unfortunately.

on the way back we went the wrong way and ended up in nj. fitting, since that's where the band hails from. i'm pretty sure it was pouring rain. and we saw a really bad car accident. the car was on fire and erin slowed down, even though it was late and we were pissed about driving out of the way.

back then both of us were really bad about falling asleep on road trips. the trick was to drive with the windows cracked when it was cold. to blast mixes that we knew all the words to and scream along.

this methodology was practiced again and again.

trip to canada where we couldn't get across the border cause one friend had an old graffiti arrest still on his record from florida. we ended up on the ny state side of the border, then headed to vt where erin got her shoe fix. this after we attempted to cross at 2 in the morning on the vt border. cigarettes on the floor of the car were assumed to be drugs. my french wasn't good enough to convince the snooty border patrol ladies to let us in. but we didn't get arrested, which they were going to do since we didn't abide by their first denied entry. 

trip home on christmas eve eve from gainesville fest. 24 hours straight. 5 people crammed in erin's car. a bike on the back. a storage container bungeed to the roof. i had to do a north carolina leg of the driving. drank a 3 liter of moutain dew and blasted whatever hc was of the moment.

trip to ny where we found a cockroach that had stowed away to escape ny parking garage life. i really thought we'd crash that time. we couldn't find the bug. i had a mini flashlight that i just kept shining over the floor of the car so erin could drive without fear.

dc/baltimore trip where my suitcase got left in syracuse. mike said i could either wear the same clothes all weekend, buy new ones or only borrow earth crisis shirts from him. jerk. nicole lent me clothes when we made it to dc, i think.

erin moved back to syracuse in the midst of all these roadtrips. then to london right after i moved back. she came back from london the week i moved to ny. two ships passing in the night.

for erin.
i've always got a bed or couch with your name on it.

postscript...
a free show at tower records in dc. may still have the giant promo sticker somewhere.

"we knew from the start that
things fall apart
intentions shatter....

i deal with the real
so if it's artificial let it be"

holi-daze

"the first labor day was celebrated on tuesday, september 5, 1882, in new york city, in accordance with the plans of the central labor union."-dol.gov

1882-FDR was president, virginia woolfe was born, my mom's grandma was a 5 year old living in bennington, vt, on 3rd august congress passed a new immigration act that stated a 50 cent tax would be charged to all foreigners landing at ports.

in observance of labor day i worked my second day of my second job. i think i worked yesterday too, er, networked? a game i hate to play. but i do. in my own way.

"the island it is silent now but the ghosts still haunt the waves

and the torch lights up a famished man

who fortune could not save

did you work upon the railroad?

did you rid the streets of crime?

were your dollars from the white house?

were they from the five and dime?

did the old songs taunt or cheer you?

and did they still make you cry?

did you count the months and years?

or did your teardrops quickly dry?

ah, no, says he, t'was not to be

on a coffin ship i came here

and i never even got so far

that they could change my name..."-s.p.l.m.

i just found out recently that my last name isn't what it's supposed to be.

for k.m.t.

hardest worker i know.

end o' summer.

september 1.

home too late after a whole day spent in prospect park at a bbq with work peoples. so much fun!

played monkey in the middle with a 5 and 7 year old. watched people slide down hills on blocks of ice purchased from a beer distributor in astoria for that purpose. ate a carrot leek muffin. (it was gross.) 

was sad i didn't have shoes with blinky lights when i was a kid. met some people who i work with, but have never met. laid around talking on a blanket in the grass, enjoying the sun. gathering the last of my freckles for the season.

now my eyelids are getting heavy. sleep beckons. wearing a borrowed shirt after mine got all gross and sweaty in the sun and heat.

"veni. vidi. vici." says the shirt. 

and today i have. 

and tomorrow i will.

-mjm