Dreamy fresh

http://gotryke.com/2010/10/driving-with-dream-hampton/

I gotta new spot dreamy.

...inching closer

I hear that in Brazil it's opposite of U.S. Whereas, in America we get to know a person before you sleep with him. Here you sleep withnthem first to figure out if you want to get to know them. An excellent idea if you ask me. Moreover, logical in every way especially when girls get hooked so easily. Give it up! I say.

Lo and behold, who finds the one Brazilian I have to get to know? What am I? The "marrying kind"? I swear the Universe is making a mockery of me. Porto Alegre bound.
11ft waves.
Holler.

The Parties over

We are now in the "other" part of Brazil. It's blonder and bluer eyed down here and I can feel it. I hate when that happens. Porto Alegre has a wonderful neighborhood of bars and restaurants, etc. It's really cute. I did go with our crew members and honestly....Americans are arrogant as a culture. Ya know, we don't mean no harm. We don't even know how to be thoughtful. It's fucked up but it is the way it is. Mix that with one person who doesn't like Americans...in a club...and BAM...drama. You can't pay bartenders directly here. You get a card and pay your tab at the end of the night...kind of on some 1920's shit. Only problem is the line to get out is enormous! Like, you wait in line forever....and waiting? Not so much what Americans do. So as my boys make a line jumping scene because the "whole process is ridiculous" (insert arrogant American) I wait outside. I'm just a girl. I have no control over boys? What am I to do?
So I watch this woman talking outside. I can't tell what she's saying. Only that one of my guys tries to speak to her and she says "In my country you speak Brazilian". Sigh.....okay. So we move on. Still waiting for our card to be paid to get out and she's talking MORE shit to the security guard. That kind of "let me talk about you in another language real fast so you can tell" shit talking. Nodding her head in our general direction. Laughing. Smoking her cigarette violently. So my boy...only black guy in our group, goes over to her and tries to talk to her. She's holding onto the security guard laughing....damn near spitting her words on him..."ha, no I am staying here with my body guard. I do not speak to Americans. In my country you speak my language." Blah blah blah....then he asks, "you're brazilian?" She says, "yes of course I am Brazilian." He says "But you have blonde hair and blue eyes and....wait.......wait a minute. You ain't got no ass. You ain't brazilian." And then we left. Rude? Maybe. But classic.

What a lovely tribute

Prepare to be amazed

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and



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I'm moving here...where ass, rubbing thighs and back fat are finally APPRECIATED!!!!
I used to want to work out. I used to want a flat belly. I used to want to shave my cellulite off of my thighs. I used to want all of that....but for what? There is an entire country that LOVES all of that...that CELEBRATES all of that! Nay do I say...ENCOURAGES it. AND every bean has the hint of pigs feet/ or hamhock?

I'm sold. Yawl gonna have to come and get me.

Copacabana Palace

This is the best hotel. Bar none. I thought Raffles in Singapore was but as Bobby reminded me, they have bad tvs and this place has outlets. Plenty. And when you travel with computers, cell phones, ipads, etc....it makes a difference. More tomorrow. I gotta sleep.

RIO

I've come to the conclusion that Farmville = no Blogging. Farmville is indeed the devil.

In the midst of the last week, I have been getting over the heartbreak of leaving Salvador. The last night we went to Bale Folklorico...which, I believe is the first show/dance/ musical I intend on producing in the US. It's just too filled with beauty and wonderment. I know enough niggas with money....so when you see it in Cleveland, remember when......

The other deal is that I've been the midst of throwing a birthday party for my favorite rapper Boo. How does one pull off throwing a party in Miami from South America??? I don't know...but I did and it's got me feeling myself a slight bit. Which doesn't help.

I'm telling you...the combination between feeling yourself (high self esteem) and Brasil (whore men) it's hard for a girl to stay professional. Also, I'm quite at the point where I do not want to stay professional. There's a 10 minute rule here. You speak to a boy longer than 10 minutes he's going in for the kill. And you really have to stick and move. One minute you're talking Bossa Nova and independence from Portugal and the next thing you know there's a tongue down your throat. And don't think it's because it's in a dark room, etc....oh no. The clubs ain't even dark here. it's all about PDA in this piece. The lobby.....the hallway , the bar.....just about any where.

Going to dee Giant Jesus....and hopefully make out while there. I'm trying to set a record.

Niggas don't see tracks or ingrown hairs

I love it here.
I love seeing ginormous booties with stretch marks and cellulite.
Big old tittays
non flat bellies.

All unabashed and unashamed in bikinis.

VIVA SALVADOR!!!
I'm at a beach with...black folks. SWIMMING...first of all. Getting their HAIR WET...secondly.....and loving the chocolateness that surrounds them.

i loved our body guard...who was watching us from afar yet blending in with the natives.

i loved my caipirinhas.
I loved the Atlantic ocean with it's unexpected dip 6 feet in.
I love that the logo of Bahia...the Bahaiana...she's the national symbol of the state and that while in America she may look like Aunt Jemima's sister, she predates slavery as the QUEEN of the CONGO.

I loved dinner and lunch at Yemanjas...where all the ladies were black and dressed up.
I love the passion of Brasilians. The food is passionate. The sand is passionate. The cheese griller dude on the beach is passionate. The jewelry salesman is passionate. Lord if this wind kicking outside my window ain't passionate....
I don't know what to do?

There is one problem though. This fucking roach the size of my havaiana is sprinting across the floor like Jesse Owens. I don't fuck with him at all. And I can't even catch him to kill him. Fast ass muthafucka.

HOPELESS GROUPIE

Not many people know this...but I started this game as a groupie. Not the kind that sleeps with the band...just a die hard fan of backpackery and head wraps....who swoons over basslines and lyrical prowess, carries incense and supplies "party favors". Could be because my uncles put a bass in my hand from the time I was 3....encouraging me with the likes of Cameo, the Police, the Clash and the Commodores....could be because my grandfather had me in Honey Studios with Sylvester and/or on the road with Smokey Robinson....Whatever the cause...the rhyme or reason, my ass falls for musicians. Now I'm a reasonably smart cookie. I know what works and what doesn't. And finally, when I finally sit and talk with my new crush...not only has he been on the road for 15 years, he's a musician and has a rock band. guitarist and singer. I know better. I've resolved to masochism.

This tour can only go up

Yesterday, so tired of arguing with people who are trying to get over it's unbelievable. This was not the blessed and relaxing Brazil of a mere week ago. No, this is dirty gutter ass promoter driven cuts and folks -playing -stupid Brazil. People relying on "but it's Brazil, please, we are gentle and not used to yelling.". Fuck outta here Portuguese. Yawl was yelling at them 1000 indigenous tribes you pushed back into the Amazon. Let's ask the Kayupo how gentle you are...
But once again, I digress.

However, as my Savior does when the going gets tough, he sends a dove... A sign of peace that let's us know everything is alright.

And voilà...the annoying promoter prod manager has an assistant who happens to be (after Sambo) the 2nd finest man vie ever seen in my life. Whew. A delicious shade of Brazilian I might add. Dark features, black beard, hair, eyes, skin my color. Swarthy oh yes he is indeed. I do likes em dirty.

He gon' make me wear make up to work. Hmph.

Kim

It is no secret that I do love Kim Kardashian. I LOVE Khloe of course, but Kim is bad. Lord have mercy her body don't stop. Won't stop. Rockafella. So when I browsed through the latest and greatest W magazine and saw that badonk...I said Yes girl. Butt pad these. And them tittays? I said...yes girl. You work that too. She's all the way live. Ain't now way around it. Stop hatin'!

Something I've thought about

Now I know she's nuttier than a fruitcake.....but I seriously do love Eartha Kitt and her plight, and her power, and what she stood for. Maybe she's a bit...umm....overbearing? Selfish. I dunno....but I kinda like it.





Yikes. I'm thinking about if this is me....old and nutty and like...fuck it. I often, unfortunately, think about my ex and all of the compromises he wanted me to make for him. And it makes me not want to make any compromises at all. I feel like its not a compromise when you love the person and they love you back. You just do it. They make you want to. You make them want to. When a friend of mine decided she was going to get married to her now husband, she told me, "he makes me want to be a better person." I like that idea. Doesn't seem like a compromise at all. It seems like...."I fell in love with myself" and "yes I would like someone to share me with me." Don't that sound good? Hmmph. Eartha wasn't THAT crazy.

I'm soooo tired

Of having to be a Nationalist when I leave the country. But mostly, I am tired of light-skinned dark-skinned issues. My goodness. Tis true, African Americans ARE the only niggas that fought. Us and Algeria and, well yeah Haiti. Thing is, niggas be trying to hard not to be niggas. It's like America 1954 here. They have perms but Garnier Fructis for their hair. Like, huh? No grease. No oil. No nothing. They call my friends daughter "witch" when she wears her hair out and big. Like apply shame to all things black....and then these Portuguese light-skinned muthafuckas walk all over them on the resort and they want to look at US like we're crazy. Like the conscious niggas name is "Sambo". You know, like the 80's. Black consciousness is here but niggas still wearing jheri curls. Don't let me learn Portuguese. Im going to set up a box in the middle of the town square and start preaching....like the Black Israelites. It's on.

Vamos mudar ahmanha

YEah, so Portuguese is NOT Spanish, or French or Italian. It's all of it making it it's own language. Duh. So when I dip back into work mode , read a few emails, only to discover a request to have press conferences for both Brazil, Argentina and Lima together, my thought is "how? Portuguese and Spanish are not the same language." oh my dearest white people, seriously? They aren't the same language! They wouldnt have a press conference in the US then be like, "lets throw some German press up in there. Aint they the same? I'm no longer as infuriated as I'm simply, sad. I feel bad for people who have no care or desire for the simplest things - respect, honor, acknowledging others. I know it ain't THAT deep, but you know how I get on the effects of Colonialism.

Meanwhile, my neck may break from the fineness bestowed upon me here on Gilligans Isle. We met a boy who lost his mind over "African women" being there and respect. Then he introduced us, by description only to a man named Sambo. We're like, "uh, boo, you may want to rethink your name." laughing like we know every damn thing.

Then drinking at the after party hotel lobby jump off spot, a man walked towards us, chocolatey skin glistening, abs rippling, about 6'4"....Adonis was that? Oh, THATS Sambo....sweet mother of Abraham I have never seen perfection captured in such a way! Of course they will be playing music on the beach with some capoeira performances, blah blah blah....and perhaps, in broken English, "we can have some conversations?" chile.......

Terca Praia

We actually by the 4th beach. Far by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn't a farwalk from the main street, it was mad dark though. Mad Dark. Too dark for some foreigners to be walking through if you ask me. But maybe my age is making me more cautious. I hate that. Particularly since i've hiktch hiked through France before and, personally? White folks ain't no less scary than 3rd world folk.

In other news, there's no shortage of fine men, big booties, or coconuts.
We'll check waves in the morning.

My girl has lived here for 6 years with her husband and beautiful children. She has 4 . Detroit and Guadalupe met up one day in Brooklyn and decided to move to Bahia. Not just Bahia, Salvador. Not just Salvador but an island off the coast called Morro do Sao Paulo. And when I say beautiful, imma need you to look past Palm Springs, Poconos , I'd even be inclined to say look past Hawaii...yeah I said it. The mélange of these people is beyond. Andy it's peaceful, tranquil, I'm surfing at 930am with a 10 year old born in Brooklyn but speaks Portuguese ("everyone does" she told me at dinner.)

My soul is happy. This would be a great place to conceive......or whore. The stars are bright enough.

WHORE NIGHT EVE

Twas the night before whoring
and all through the hotel room
not a creature was stirring
not even the Boom Boom room.

I hate when people rhyme the same word with the same word. ITS NOT A RHYME. And I'm not a rapper, so.....
Anyway,
The day went perfect and it's amazing what someone else energy can do to a room. "almost perfect" can leave you with the same energy as TOTALLY FUCKED UP. This is make believe what we do out here. You hear me? make believe. Stages and costumes and "liners"....and business. And it's fun. I love seeing the world and celebrating peoples cultures within their cultures. I love when someone asks..."hey can we arrange to go and see the big Jesus when we get to Rio" and I'm like "Corcovado? Girl yes, aint nothing more powerful than a GIANT Jesus"...I mean there's Jesus. And then he's giant. What? Please. I'm all over it. But it is a vehicle. It is a means to end. And I see how the being out of it can make you lose it slightly. I can also see how wanting to be in it can screw you too. Biggie say "Mo money mo problems" and I'm inclined to believe that. More access, more people, more devils, more sharks, more beauty, more sunsets, more life, more possibility. I guess with anything you take the good and the bad. My dancer baby punkin was testifying today ....quoting John and the like : Be of the world but not in it. (actual verse “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world – the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life – is not of the Father but is of the world. And the world is passing away, and the lust of it; but he who does the will of God abides forever.” (1 John 2:15)

Doing what we're doing and not getting so caught up that we forget the importance of life. This is make believe. Make believe. Make believe. Seriously.

Tomorrow my lovely wonderful momma leaves and heads back to Cali from Guadalajara. We had a blast. And I begin my quadruple connection to Morro Sao Paulo. I am so blessed and thankful to be able to get to a place I've always wanted to be. Damn. Manifest yawl.

Guadalajara Sunset

Mi madre es conmigo a Guadalajara. And I've found a new crush who I could have met and somehow passes up on the opportunity. Sergio Bustamante. A BRILLIANT surrealist. I'm kind of sprung off of him even though he's short and old. I was blocks away when he came to his gallery. Why didn't I go to meet him? I don't know. What do you say to an old Surrealist? "Want a tequila?", "how bout some concert tickets?". I don't know. I think I got shy? What the hell was wrong with me?

"Some of yall niggas is bitches too"

I can't remember who sang that or even find the lyrics. I think it may be Ice Cube but I can't figure it out for the life of me. But I had to bomb on mad niggas tonight. Like...wow. Like men are so so easy to jump bad and expect women to take the fall, to suck it up, to take a beating and STILL give you a blow job. I mean come ON!!! All Eve did was eat a fucking apple. That's fucking it! What does it take? And then there are women in the world who take it and just understand. Those are the ones who are married. Jesus. I'm so annoyed. I'm SOOO annoyed. These "jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none" motherfuckas who get on my nerves. They are SUCH bitches! Nothing worse than a bitch ass nigga. nothing.

Whorerah - day 3

We're drinking in the lounge and somehow, it's not the whorefest I thought it would be. I don't even think my body gets drunk anymore. Farmville and drinking with the homies. And besides, my only 2 Mexican conquests in whore years past weren't necessarilynwell endowed. Maybe I'm a crazy a crazy racist and I hold grudges....
And Bobby just put ice in my toilet. Fucker.