Granted we're back in the United States, but I haven't stopped working. Oprah in Chicago as soon as we touched down, lost luggage, flights to LA, AMA rehearsals and advance, broken cube heads, whining techs, diva stylists, cheap ass Award show budgets and then just living.
When I have down time I'm bored to tears. All of my running partners have gone or married or hooked up for the winter. It happens when you leave...life. Even though it seems like it may stop, everyone keeps on keeping on. And so I get home and I'm unsettled, mad, nitpicking at everything and everyone's faults when really I'm just bored and lonely at home. I do notice, however, that I haven't been around entitled Americans for some time. Ergo, the sudden mixing with white folks has me snapping heads. I swear this woman at 16th and Montana almost got cut. Fucking Santa Monica. I had to take myself home...inside....away from people before I started a riot...keep in mind I've been in places where the national symbol is a black woman. I dunno. I was feeling myself.
So I needed to feel that again. Having withdrawals....and then, like a beacon in the night...old faithful fried chicken lures me to the steps of my favorite juke joint - The Cork. I've decided to re-associate myself with all things and people south of the 10 freeway. I have enough of these [white] folks in my daily....I gots to be free to pick my teeth with the end of the straw and sing Teena Marie with the 50 year old lady at the end of the bar at the top of our lungs. Where hot sauce is provided and not just tabasco and Tapatio! And where the bartender cha cha chas with you to the 4th Frankie Beverly and Maze song that's come out of the juke box. Yes folks, living the dream on Adams and Crenshaw. Isn't that the American Way?
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