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Private and public self…this was the original theme of this post as sat trying to be more prepared in posting “What I Learned Sundays” this week. Lately, I seem to have many thoughts and experiences big and small that I want to constrain to this small post summing up my learning process of the previous week.

“What are you always doing on that thing? Playing games,” she asked.
“No, I’m writing,” I turned the iPad around to show her the book cover.
“Wow, you write,” she asked this evening, her mind still clearing out from the previous night.
“Yes, I wrote a manuscript, and I have a blog, I’ve actually written a lot in the last few weeks and months.”
“My friend published a book of poetry,” somewhat intrigued, simply because with my current works, and to piece published in compilations, that may be my foot in the door with Blue Lines.
“I would have never thought you write. You just sit there (pointing toward the table), and seem very quiet…reserved.”

I smiled realizing that though you allow parts of you to be public, you can also hide behind that public persona. I’ve done that a lot lately, where depending on the level (knowledge, time, quality, proximity, familiarity, context, touch) my message, or distributed message has been different. But then you (well) I realize, there are some people that blur the lines of these relationships, because you arrive at that place where if I say this, in this way, now the person that it directly impacts has just as much, or more access to it, and a different investment in that forum.

I continue…
“Who is that a picture of? Do you just write, or do you write about someone?” Therein my internal brake and filter come into play. I’ve told my story different ways many times, but this was a moment that I had to respectfully censor myself publically.
The first question I let die, the second is a plain “yes.” There was not really anymore to say regarding that.
“Read this,” she offered passing her phone, “my friend (the aforementioned author) wrote this.”
I read and found the piece thoroughly well done, not that I can judge, but if your piece is broken between 10 different text messages, and I’m patient enough to read it, my interest is captured. I’m not going to use the word “amazing,” because I have too much lately.
“Well read this,” I pull out my writing card, “I wrote this tonight while I was sitting here.” Not that I was very happy about the piece, I rewrote it totally.
While reading “Infatuation,” her face changed, as it did reading the 3-4 other selections, visually showing her interest in the work, and that it spoke to her, and just giving me a good feeling that though when I look at something that I write, I may feel different and not like the piece, but those are the works that people have gravitated to, and make me believe and have more confidence in the work.
“I felt as if I saw the entire thing,” “Ooh, you’re bad,” and “I felt that I was living it,” were some of the shocking compliments I received. Side-note my sis who gave me the words to write “Infatuation,” similarly said “I saw this take place in my mind as I read it.”

There is also a statement Jay-Z made, “words are just so tough, the meaning behind this s–t is tough” meaning that they have so much weight, and their meanings change based on placement, inflection (especially Spanish), sound. Even further evidenced for me, as I let someone read my work, and was able to see their reaction as they sat in front of me.

She reacts, stating “you’re words they mean so many things all at once. You don’t know what you’re getting,” she offered after mouthing, “The End.”
I love words. And for someone to say that to me, you must understand what I’m writing has many meanings for me. My words are speaking several messages within the same lines. Whether they are expressions of love, lust, want, need, our end, our future, our now, our nothing…I always question whether I have effectively and eloquently made my point. There are also times now that as I write, that I marvel how easy it is to put my ideas together, and add hidden nuances to the work (“Tempt” & “Infatuation”).

I haven’t had this creativity since Blue Lines, and nowhere the easy in putting an idea to paper, computer, iPhone, iPad, or whatever the hell I have in front of me.

Further learning…
Wednesday I woke to a positive and brief view of something, that may be just that, a brief thought. To preface my Cuzzo calls me a planner…a Taurus trait. Within minutes and waking seconds I had a brief dream that only she knows of…against the tenants of who I am…as a planner, but extremely hopeful and so….against me, that I have to acknowledge the possibility in this “premonition.”

I guess that leads to the next item that was a positive view this week. I saw the following discourse:

I am so happy you poked me 😛 You are the sweetest and thanks for all the smiles you bring! Happy Birthday my dear! Te quiero muchisimo!

And also watching brief making of documentary on Jay-Z and Kanye West’s Watch The Throne…I may not be a fan of her music, or the way I feel she’s treated her former mates to achieve stardom, those two, Beyoncé and Jay, look like they love each other. Not to say that I’ve ever given up believing n love, if you read my few little pieces, you know that I have not. But, it is great to see those things that reinforce those feelings, and beliefs.

Also something I happened across this morning, though it sits as the converse of the above, believing and feeling are the only things that can make you feel something enough to write this.

Tried to break my heart, then you stepped on it,
I picked up the pieces before you swept on it,
G-ddamn the sh—t leave a mess don’t it,
Feeling like death don’t it,
Charge it to the game, whatever’s left on it,
Spent about a minute, maybe less on it
-Jay-Z – “Love You So” from Watch The Throne

Poem further explained below.

“For you”
KS 07/24/11
When you came, my world changed,
More than she had,
She led me to you, and I thought she was all,
Your eyes big,
Do you know me,
The pure recreation of your mother and father,
Our days stay tied in mutual understanding,

Recipient of my kiss,
Symbol of my love,
Product of my lust,
Owner of my heart,
The only ONE for me,
You slept in my arms,
I promise you everything,
I live now for you,

My love is your love,
My words are your words,
I wrap you in my protection,
My love, my heart,
My soul,
Yes, you are the recreation,
Of your mother and father,
Me and her, her, her…
My beautiful unborn daughter.

This was hard to write, but the idea came to me yesterday for some odd reason. Maybe I was thinking about the things we want coupled with the things that we do that don’t necessarily match up to those wants.
I remember when the first new niece was born, and as I constantly came over to sit with her in my chest asleep, I had come across a song, Coldplay’s “Til Kingdom Come.” Maybe it was “practice,” but I would hold this small sleeping infant. So very marvelous, and I would gently sing to her.
And as I sang:

For you I’d wait ’til kingdom come
Until my days, my days are done
And say you’ll come and set me free

I cried. For my daughter (children) as your father, I’ll be there for you til the world ends. I’ll be here for this baby, my niece til the world ends. And when you are ready to give that love, maybe you have to also have the right YOU to be able to do it all right…that’s why I said “recreation, of your mother and…me…” A few weeks ago I mentioned how I was in that place and believe it is easier to return and grow to being ready for fatherhood again, during that gestation period. Much easier than becoming THAT man or woman, because you see someone you think you want. I’m still working toward my daughter (children).

OK, I guess…what I learned:

Comments made about Q-Tip, by Chris Lighty, “He would’ve held on to Midnight Marauders for 10-12 years, I went in and said, give me the f—king album.” I saw myself in that statement, I hope that I can get out of my way…or someone comes in and says, “give me that f—king book.”

There is not enough time, to tell people all the things you need to tell them.

It’s funny how alike and different we are.

Take in your experiences.

We’re too open and accessible.

When I want to pull back, I can’t (it doesn’t mean that).

Normal is so pedestrian.

I LOVE being back in the gym.

Men make MAN decisions, if YOU are their woman, YOU have nothing to worry about.

Um…”Classic Nights,” no bueno, lol. That goes back into take in your experiences.

I’ve had a bunch of praise heaped on my lately, though encouraging I’m not good with things like that, I’m not a good praise/ego guy.

I’m hiding in public.

I know how I feel at times about my work(s), however I do love how for the first time in over 10 years, I feel like can just write anything…and even add elements that would have been hard to get across or add with quality lines. I’m enjoying writing for the first time in a long time. However, my muse is like playing with house money…does it run out??? Either positively or negatively?

Umm, yeah that…learning experience, I think it’s gonna change a WHOLE bunch of things.

Yeah, you had me gassed reading my stuff. Your quote, “just want to live and relive your poem.”

Another quote: “I saw this take place in my mind as I read it.”

We’re still here, and we’re still weird.

It’s cool to slowly remember certain things, in a different time, I knew fight…YOU taught me that.

YOU’re words/actions don’t match, and I’m going to fight.

We’re old enough…let’s go ahead.

I believe.

The manuscript Blue Lines is the fictional coming of age narrative of a young California woman Key Yemaya Walker, and her 2 year growing journey through school, love, and life period piece, written by Kenneth Suffern, Jr., taking place at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill between the years of 1997 – 1998. Loosely based on true events, and experiences during that time, told through the eyes and voice of the main female protagonist, a freshman first attending the school.