OSLO

Nobel Peace Prize ceremony and I have 2 outfits. The Halston or the Marco Marco. I think I want to go with the Marco Marco. I only wore it for Christmas 2 years ago. And it does not need ironing. And it's black and sparkly. Decisions decisions.

Amsterdam kicked my ass and I didn't even smoke that much. I think that's just it, I can't smoke that much. All I want to do is lay in this bed and read a book. Research new clients. Research paint techniques for my new crib. And then nothing. I have a lovely view from my 32nd floor window of Oslo, there's a bridge from this hotel directly to the venue, and there's some bar lounge thingy on the 34th floor. It's safe to say I ain't goin no where. Not to mention, it's fucking 18 degrees here. Fuck. That. Shit.

And another thing, why did I say I wanted to go to Paris after this? 2 weeks is the perfect amount of time to tour. That is plenty. I'm ready to come home.

Old Bitches Need They Money Too

I'd like to stay awhile and study the red light district. How is the Commerce set up? Like is it divided by race? Class? Countries? Would there be an Eastern European Row? Africa Aisle? Orient Alley? Palestinean Passageways? I was trying to study this last evening and yet not look them in their eyes. Sometimes I'm good in the Red Light, other times, I'm grossed out and hellsa uncomfortable. Last night I was somewhere in between. Wednesday night! The night that the hot girls must be off because I gotta tell ya....I wasn't afraid to look in the cute girls eyes...but the grandmas and Aunt Eloise were shockingly grave. Even the sex show tonight didn't have it's normal spark. It's like Caesars in Atlantic City. Drab faces, coming to work, work, leave. Sexy was left at the marquis. It's bad enough they bring their purse up on stage. I know it houses all of their tricks, but it takes away from the stage presence no? Further? wheres the Lysol? Who's wiping down that pole? What in the hell is underneath this pew?
Okay, I may be getting too old for Amsterdam. Or I'm still high.

PARIS

mmmm, this is truly, as we know, one of my favorite cities in the world. The promise of love and/or wild passionate events seems available on every corner. Seriously. I went to see Ayo and Imany. So much talent in France. I would love to sit here and work with a few artists on a few ways to execute. Meanwhile, as we all attract a certain type, I've attracted yet another handsome musician. Silver and black hair - a plus. Morroccan, barely any English, all the things that make me smile. Comes time to give me a ride home and would you believe there are not one but TWO car seats in his car....one turned backwards because, well, there is obviously a new baby.

"Dude, serioux?"
"please, permittez-moi expliquer"
"Child, s'il te plait. Il n'est pas necessaire pour expliquer. You's a nigga that's all. I know your kind well. Rue Bagnolet please."

Fishing For Low-eys

I learned a new term from the boys in which I co-habitate on the road. What are "Low-eys"? The women with the lowest self esteem who will be the easiest to give it up. Cold blooded you may say? Insightful. How does one compartmentalize so well? Is that the key to a good relationship? Why fight it? I dunno. But is it any wonder??!?

London

The last time I was at the K West , Deebs and I were hanging with Amy Winehouse and dude....Blaine right? Anyway, our promoter is Amy's manager. It was a great show yet melancholic when seeing him that first time. He no doubt brought us buckets of champagne to thank us for the evening. Braxton showed off. 4100 people. A place that's impossible to get to front of house. You would need a security guard. They don't mark off the floor and have people stay in the middle to provide a walkway. I'm not sure why. Thats some hood shit.

This time the K West lobby housed sir Bobby Womack with his girlboy. Beautiful Girl, just needs a little refinement....take some of that boy out her. Anyway, Womack was talking shit about smoking weed on tour throughout the world. Something we all benefited from.

The other Thing i remembered about the K West was the influx of international business men that one may find in the bar. So, a Spaniard, a Greek Australian, and a Sri Lankan American dude from Oakland walk into the bar. They sit next to me inspite of my bevy of black musicians who surrounded me. I figured, these boys are game. The Spaniard was older...my type, silver haired, and spoke slow rolling English. I said a curse word and think I ruined that one, plus he wasn't quick to the buy the drinks. He just kept asking why there were no women with me. Motherfucker asked too many questions if ya ask me. Then there was the tall Greek Australian. He was married so counted him out. He asked a lot of questions too. There was then the short cute, young Sri Lankan from Oakland who spoke slightly like E 40. Thank Goodness he was Sri Lankan. Oakland in London may be special but lacked originality for this Californian girl, last person I want to hook up with in a foreign country is someone I can run into at a bar when everyone goes home for the holidays.

Turns out K West only allows residents to order drinks towards the end of the night. I became popular real quick.

Sri Lanka was relentless. Nice to know an old gal still got it.

I kick him out early however and go to the weed room. Girlboy knocks on the door and joins the smoke circle. She regaled us withna tory about how her man master threw a glass at her and she had to dot him. " you knocked Bobby Womack out?" funny but she killed the mood. No orgies forthcoming with THAT one. I mean really, who knocks an old drunk high man out?

Moving right along....
I've started a work out regiment since my arrival. My trainer thinks im a narcissistic ego maniac, i think he is a sadisical tyrrant who has a crush on me and hence is trying to murder me. Let's see what these 2 weeks do to my ass.

Occupy Dis P#$^y

I think Iggy Azalea should write a song about "Occupying dis....." Occupy dis and Occupy dat. Since there is so much occupying going on these days. I'm in the UK occupying space on this tour. All men on this tour. All black men in fact....maybe 2 white guys who have been around for ages. But we continuously have these town hall meetings , last night in my room, on the state of black america. One of the guys is so gung ho "African American" and was annoyed that some of us used the word black to identify ourselves. It's cool cause I was annoyed he used African American...especially over here where it doesn't play out to be the most accurate statement. We went on to how much longer it was going to take us to get out from the shackles of slavery. This we all said while puffing blunts in my suite, in Manchester. I turned on my ipod using the provided bose system to Jimi Hendrix because i knew this convo was going to be long. "WHy it's going to take us at least half the time of slavery to break from the bondage, just like it takes a woman half the time she was in a relationship to get over it". Seriously? One of them said this while adjusting his Montcler puffy coat. Its freezing after all here in Manchester. "And we need to advise our children of the past so they know what they are looking at in the future". I told them entitled priviledged negros to get out of my room and take their montclers, dutch masters, Ipods, Ipads and other 1% shit and keep it pushing.

300 years of slavery.

START SPREADIN' THE NEWS......

I'm leaving tomorrow.....
LA, here I come. My brief retreat from the West Coast has come to an end. It wasn't that brief. Running away from home is DEFINITELY all that it's cracked up to be. I mean you have space. You can see straight. Wherever you run to, there you are. Avoidance is pretty impossible. So being here, taking a break, having focus....it's pretty, well, it's pretty damn brave as a matta a fact. I am glad to have even had the opportunity to have a month break...like a real one. One where I don't just have a baby and have to do it and then have post pardon or something like that. Yes indeed. I like my nervous breakdowns sans responsibilities! My mid-life crisis couldn't have come sooner! Whew. Boy ole howdy. I am so grateful. Thank you Jesus for my momma. And I thank you Bitches, for my money.

Lana Del Rey

First I tried to hold out for Iggy Azalea....but I heard nothing from them...and then that mixed tape I anxiously waited for was....flat. Hmmm. I had an idea but then , the crash of Autumn 2011 happened and my interest went flat with it. But now....another white girl fixation.



Good listenin. Creamy white girls and red lips. They may be on to something.

Women of Porn

There is a new book club....and it's chat rooms and the chicks in them. They chat together with their husbands...not swingers or nothing, though I'm sure they are there, but really...cool folks all in a chat room talking shit about the live webcam de jour. And I mean who are we fooling, some those web cams are hilarious. A lot is really wackadoo central but once and awhile you come up with some good stuff. It's like visiting Amsterdams red light district and watching sex shows but in the comfort of your own home!!! With friends! Because only pervs go to sex shows solo. There should be an X Factor for porn....Yes. THERE SHOULD BE America's Next Top DPer....or something like that. And we'll all cry when the nice girl slightly past her prime gets beat out by the young teeny bopper with the fake ass and the already rejuvenated vag.

Let's hear it for the new female community! It's like a book club, tea party.

Remember 1 Night Stands???

Those were crazy right? Like, I remember them....so clearly, I think, and then..POOF...they've come and gone. Surely I cannot be old enough to not have those. I mean they were good right? Casual, compartmentalized and dirty...or not so dirty. I don't know, depends on how you roll. But now I feel like I have a sticker on my back ...."no 1 night stands here"....ummm why? Moreover, who cares? I mean you can care, but it can't be all obsessive...it's usually better out of the country anyway. There are set boundaries....oceans for one. Land mass. Flights. Etcetera. But now with the internet and fricken FACEBOOK, those once nameless distant memories are in your inbox. Is it an age thing or a 2011 thing. Like are One Night Stands sooooo 2010? What did I miss out on?

Guys, don't forget the 7 top rules:

Just A Band - Ha-He

Thank God. I knew I needed some good old fashioned nYC hipster time. Thanks to Ginny Suss who connected me to my newest obsession. I know, with Iggy Azalea I was going for the obvious....but this one will take a little work....and focus....but by next summer I can have them rocking in Ibiza!!!

14th St. Station

In my attempt to scale down during my temporary lapse of job and major attempt at being bi-coastal, I ventured out to take the train from Chelsea. I normally brave this feat with my friend, but as she s on the vacation I denied myself during my "scale back period"-I would be braving this 3 train ride on my own.

The office I'm working in is in Chelsea. After work, I met up for drinks with the fabulous Sean Patterson who had much advice to offer on my career change. It seems that while I venture into film and tv land, I happen to have fans who miss me in music....already. It's only been a month. And while I forage into new frontiers they have plenty of ideas for me to reinvent myself in the old ones. Go figure. Gotta love people who love you.

So, I deny my urge to take a taxi and talk on the phone to use my Recently purchased metro card and dwell with the people....what makes NYC so great....public transportation n shit. I gotta take 3 trains from Chelsea.....THREE! But for $2.25 I can do it.

After my 2nd Connection I miss the Q in which I find myself at 14th street. During my 15 minute wait, there's a fab 1 man band rendition of "Let this Groove" by Earth, Wind & Fire, filling the airwaves.....it was great! Guitar solo and all.

I then notice this cute black girl and cutey patootey white (jewish) boy , young, sitting there, gazing into each others eyes. She was shy. He was deliberate. He wants to know her. She had the loveliest Afro underground.....he touched it, she blushed and put her hood on. I felt bad for her. She seemed so ashamed. He fell back. They got on the train, he unveiled her hair, put his arm around her and she nestled right into the nook. It was so sweet! I love how he noted her insecurity, gave her a minute and accepted her all over again....for her sake. Loving. Baby pooh bears.

After they left I could still hear the one man band. I'm realizing he's not all that fabulous, he may possibly be a hack. He's been playing the same song for 12 minutes. Who wants a one man jam band? Seriously.

Fall family Day

I went to my nieces school today. A beautiful school nestled in the lovely, extravagant, wonderfully appointed neighborhood of Short Hills, NJ. If I could transplant Northern California to the East Coast, it would be South Orange, NJ and it's surrounding areas. I have had the pleasure of meeting a wonderful same sex family (pc) and many lovely mothers who all have ideas of who to hook me up with. They have different view points worth listening to. But I gotta tell ya....screaming kids ain't my thing. Talking back ain't my thing. Making your entire life about the child...turns out, may not actually be my thing. Lord knows I'm ready for the next sector of my life...would love to say...yes, this is the most important thing in my life...but I don't know. The incessant talk about not having time to yourself..ever. Or maybe the right idea is to wait late as possible. All I know is instead of being more encouraged, I'm more doubtful than ever before. Doubt is a beast.

State of the Womanizer

I guess the reality is that if you claim it and you know the, then somehow you attract them...in varying bunches. That being the case, there isn't one worse than the, other they're all pretty much....whack and unavailable. Working on it and passing the time with them doesn't seem to do the trick either.....it's just a longer road to the inevitable. Funny thing is, I don't have the problem of mistaking sex as the issue, I have the problem of the "friend". They love being my best friend and some how some way thinks that I'm all the better for it. In the end, I find out, yes I am....I don't have to endure the hell of said relationship with said womanizer who all in all, simply isn't available.....but, I still have to endure the plans, the wedding, the conversations about who they ultimately end up with because they fell back long enough and it's kind of owed to them.....etc....,.but I still can't get over thats what one has to endure. Pain. Repeatedly. And accept it! It makes me so fucking angry. What do you end up winning exactly? Long conversations about absolutely fucking nothing? Being the "shoulder"? It's such utter bullshit I may throw up.

New Mood

Today I start the day with new energy, meaning old energy has got to go. Old clothes, old music, old people. Not as in the elderly, but people who leech off of you for anything. Doesn't mean money, doesn't mean class, jobs, or any devices used to get "in"...just the fact that they are there....barely lurking around. Stepping in and out of your life at their whim...for their own purposes, sucking the very life out of ya. They've got to go. People are poison.

The Road to Hell

The road to hell is so very wide and long. So much compromise. When your brain is focused on money making only and not an ounce of compassion, the shit you do is amazing. I became an eggshell walking, angry, reactionary evil bitch. What's new about that you may ask? I was extremely unhappy. At least you can count on me to be a goofball. But I had no goof left. And so, I walked.

After walking, the reaction to my walking was Goldy worthy. Niggas had to pimp slap a bitch...that's what you do you know, when bitches don't mind. You pimp slap them and leave them in the street. Painful, yes. But what did I expect. Intelligence vs drive and luck. Who's going to win? I'd like to resort to the idea that maybe I'm just not that into this. Maybe I'm not cut our for management? BUt really, I'm just old and have a whole let tolerance for dumb ass bullshit. I'm proud to be back to real music again.

stepping my dick up

So I was asked on a recent date "what are your intentions?" My response..."that's my line". Oddly enough, I still could not formulate what my intentions were. All of this talking and bullshitting. All of these journals I've come across in storage, combing through boxes and boxes of old settlement sheets Roots passport photos and Murs marketing packages, I've found a slew of journals discussing lost loves and heartaches and what would I do if I found love and if I even knew what it looked like.

The result?

I'm a coward. No wonder guys don't know if I like them. I can't even formulate an answer to a question I already knew the answer to!!! But "cool Girl" jumped out...and voila...here I am...again. Dummy.

So it's time...to step my dick up. Stop being a bitch ass cowardly lion and roar.

Chivalry is not dead

It's not. I have had a lovely bout of chivalry from hanging out at concerts and the road guys there, to hanging with friends who want to guard the door for you, to co-workers and interests who maneuver you to the inside of the sidewalk so that they are between you and the streets filled with hateful car drivers.

A man helped me with my bags from the train to the subway. It was awesome! And then simply walked away. No phone number necessities...no ticket requests. Nada. It was wonderful.

It makes me smile.

ONE NIGHT IN MIAMI.......x 5

I normally hate Miami....may I say, I hate South Beach. THIS trip? I got turned out. Seriously. Not only was hanging with the crew and band....excitedly...and my newest superhero Donyale....eating sushi no less and drinking sake, enjoying the night.....THEN I was able to debut at the Sherbourne (my only stint in South Beach) my award winning Karoake song with back up dancers and congo players to boot....then toot it and boot it, THEN the coup de gras? Photo shoot for Viva Glam with one of the finest men alive....Ricky Martin....along with the most incredible photographic mind...David Lachapelle. What an amazingly glamourous and soooo Hollywood time in Miami though.

Loved it.

And I love staying downtown. Mandarin Oriental for life Blood!

WORN DOWN AND WORN OUT

At the most fun portion of the tour....the Northeast Corridor, my health decides to take a nose dive...could be due to the flight from Miami to Sacramento to nestle on my grandmama for a minute and see my good friend, could have the less than 36 hour return flight to NYC to check on my client and her amazing show at the Nikon Theater at Jones Beach....I landed with a sore throat. Took some cold medicine thinking that should knock it out. Tried my hardest to get SOME rest, then off to the Wayne show, other said client who was hosting Nicki, current client on stage. It was 98 degrees and about 98 percent humidity. BULLSHIT. Sore throat in full effect. Can't sleep through the night...mostly because I'm at a studio session with more said artists until 6am! Ridiculous. I never got to eat my Penang that I ordered from my favorite restaurant in Philly due to what felt like glass shards in my throat. No swallowing of any sort....water and soup...except it all comes out...tmi....and so I FINALLY say , let me get myself a Roc doc. Nurse on premises hooks up a B12 shot in one cheek, Roc Doc hooks up steroid shot in other cheek (shit there goes my pro sports career) and 24 hours later, 1 antibiotic down I can still drink tea and everything else still hurts. I'm sure it will get better, but Jesus, does it have to happen WITHOUT alcohol? I mean this is my birthday week for crying out loud! And yes I have been crying out loud. Strep throat is a muthafucka.

Needless to say all of this whirlwind action has been fun but at quite the price.

My Sisters Porch

There is a symphony of crickets. Some frogs, I think. cicadas! Many other insects that make noise by ribbing their legs together. The air is thick - humid is an understatement. This type of beauty on the porch of this home from the 40s is priceless. I'm proud of my big sisters home. It's beautiful. I have to refrain myself from my DIY ways.

3 gimlets later my eyes are playing tricks on me. However, I'm glad that I got out.d

the Big Easy

Why is the Big Easy so amazingly sexy and cool? Like every step in the Quarter leads to whoredom...or wanton whoredom or ....hey, you need some whoredom? It's amazing.
And WHY can you gamble all night long?
and why is there absinthe? Strange musicians from other lands?
music in the streets?
Why is New Orleans and it's architecture EVERYTHING?

I can't stop loving it. I just do.

DFW terminal D

I had a pleasant arrival yesterday morning into Terminal D. It was sparkly and shiny and lavender greeted me from the L'Occitane shoppe. Nothing special. Just a wine bar and lavender is enough to get me going. Add to it the shiny art installations and quick baggage claim and VOILA! You've got a solid airport terminal my friend. I realize this may be a who cares moment...but in fact you should care. You see, American's hub is Dallas airport. Add to it that all of your connections to South America go through there (if you're coming from the west) and you will indeed use this terminal more often than not. You can pick up your last minute best buy goods, Rosetta stone (no shit, I lost my Rosetta Stone headphones in Mexico and as I was CONNECTING in Dallas, BONG, Hooked myself up!). Don't sleep on Terminal D.

The Carrie Diaries

And just when I couldn't get enough of Sex And the City, I is discover the "Carrie Diaries". It's basically Carrie in high school and it reads like a Judy Blume novel. Super cute and interesting since it talks about her mother and father, something the tv show never did. I don't know. I'm searching for entertainment here people. I read Steve Harvey's book too....and the script. And the Django script...and my cityville town is HUGE....I'm so busy around my busy!

Southland

Its a pretty good show. Even though it's in HD and Regina Kings make up covering her skin is distracting. I hate that about HD. I think HD was created by the beauty industry....so that you can reveal blemishes on tv, all the more making us all rush to the store to get our $400 creams. I be right there in line too. hoodwinked like the rest of them.

I also like that they bleep out the curse words. Well, they say shit but bleep out fuck. That's pretty cool. And all the women are ethnic and go hard and talk about how wack it is that serial killers are treating women like less than nothing.

It's a good show. Me likey.

tomorrow is a new day

What a gift to be able to go to sleep and wake up again. Especially after a fricken...oh, 20 hour day? I am WORN OUT...chile.....I mean WORN. Tonight I saw a man get so excited during the last song that he literally fell over the rail and onto the floor. He was in the 1st row elevated. Poor thing. I was worried that he'd broken his neck but he jumped right up, embarrassed, and went back to his seat - which was a perfect time for me to laugh my ass off. Til The World Ends is a hit...no doubt. And when the guest star opening act joins in? All bets are off. She KILLS it. I mean the crowd going wild is an understatement. It's super fun.

And back into this lovely bed and not a bus. I'm so grateful for it and the honey roasted peanuts in the mini bar...no no, I don't need a beer. Cranberry juice will be enough....and pop chips....and...no, nothing else. Cashews...ppft. What I wouldn't do for a slim jim.

What a lively 48 hours. I hope talent is late as hell tomorrow and doesn't want to leave until the last minute...damn the over drives!

DEATH SUCKS

I still can't get past it. Because it still sucks. I don't care if it was senseless or if they were old. I remember in grad school we read "Loves Executioner" by Yalom. The first page is about how all psychosis stems from denying death. I think it's true. People spend all of their time trying to fight and or avoid the inevitable rather than accept it. It's painful but is what it is. My condolences barb.

So I met a Cuban

Vancouver is cold as shit. Bullshit summer per the locals. Great mix of people here. French and Cubans and Japanese and a Kenyan/Guineans. We met in a "cafe". Reminded me of the Roots in Amsterdam and all over the world really in a simpler time of no streaming songs and scary leaks and paranoia all over the land. This tour may get more fun. Donyale is my new ace so at least I have a playmate. I do have to study to get into my west indian character for my new feature. THATS exciting....and working on Fall touring...now THAT...is going to be Epic. Can't wait.

Hopefully I can find that door on Cambie street tonight.

Trailer....

OMG....what have they started......

The Weeknd

I'm awake. Very groggy and slow. It's my second day and all of my energy is drained. Fibroids on the road kick my ass. Thank God for Chris Psaila and my Mexican Iboprofeno. I've had several. Staying ahead of the pain. Unfortunately I'm so sluggish and tired. I can't even get up to go to the Nike Employee Store. I hope everyone says no and would rather sleep too.

OPENING ACT

Wanna know the BEST thing about opening? Leaving by 930pm...soooo sweet. It's making my day. Why I can even go OUT to dinner or something like that with some friends in town. FRIENDS! One quick sweep to the merch booths...so I can tattle tale and more importantly, count my chippers....

AND THEN I"M OUT!!

It's amazeballs. I'm going to paint Portland FANtastic!

Gavin DeGraw - Not Over You

I need me a little young white boy to manage.....and then I need one to put on stage too.

Mo Jobs Mo problems

Let me tell you a little bit about this thing called "ambition"...... He is a double- edged sword and invites all types of shit just when you think youve reached your master plan. I can't believe how much harder Managment is. I don't think its harder because anything has necessarily changed other than I'm knocking the he'll out of 40 and don't much feel like being bothered by the shit I put up with when I was 28. Bizarre. I have the reigns in my hand actually....and yet, I keep trying to throw them elsewhere. NOW all of a sudden I want LESS responsibility. Fat chance. Be careful what you wish for!

Roots Picnic Philly

So glad to be on a plane to Philly. My 36 hour turnover will be fast and furious and too much fun. 200 guests vying to be Black Thought and ?uests "remember when" homies. Fomer babies who are now 9 and 10 and in that slightly ugly missing tooth phase yet I will still kiss them, will be there. Head wraps paying homage , rather holding on to dear life, to the neo soul era. And the fabulous fabulous Roots crew. My boos. And the Ofays who love them. I'll be skinnier and barren than everyone and they will talk shit about me in a corner.....my ghetroest Philly homegirls will come in the event that something jumps off and nothing will. It will be hot and sticky and I will run around with said kids while said mothers watch and will feed them sno cones and cotton candy until they are sick and laughing and tired and given me all of their delicious kisses. And then I will send them home.

Can't wait!

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind

I couldn't find a link fresh enough that didn't seem like a trailer, however, the premise of this movie is everything. I think I absolutely love the idea of erasing your memory of painful ordeals that have happened. Just to have a fresh start. Think of all the luggage it would remove! Or maybe people could risk more because they could simply forget about it if all else failed. I'm calling my chemist friend to see if this can be done. I'm sure it can. And then I'm on a fast train to no baggage land!

Kick Rocks

boys are stupid. They do stupid stuff. They think stupidly. They respond stupid. And they pretend stupid. It's slightly disgusting. I noticed my ex's girlfriends compassion and found myself praying for that. Compassion over judgement. Its amazing!! Patience is amazing, but tolerance? Whoa. I'm not sure I know how to find that. It would come in handy however. I always ask ladies who have been married for some time how you handle that. They still haven't put it into laymans terms. If they did, I'd have a book. I think I'll rub one out and think about this some where.

QUOTE OF THE DAY

We will make the perfect Mr and Mrs. Farris.

And for the 18th time......

There is really nothing in this life to do but learn. That's it. If you don't like to learn, you have a miserable life. Its funny, last night I was worried and concerned about my artist, pumping her up, giving pep talks, general managerial things when I said "Go with your gut." I was proud of myself until this morning when I replayed what I told her and realized....Bitch, when are you going to go with yours?

It gets confusing. When you trust no one. Mostly because your gut is a "danger" alarm. And while I am one of the biggest risk takers I know, trust is a ringer for me. Trust and acceptance and expectation all become a big ball of wonder. I wonder who I will ever trust and accept and have no expectation of. And granted, I'm not trying to beat up on myself for being open...it's just, ya know...a real pain in the ass to be hit with the same lesson...for the 18th time.

Alright....brushing shoulders off. Back to taking over the world.

Mother's Day

I spent the weekend with my mother and I'm so happy to have done so. Living in the wake of 2 grandfather's deaths I wonder what my mom feels like. Obviously sad and sure I could ask her but why bring all of that up. I try to enjoy now. But ya know, we're all going to go. The first grandfather death for me was so very unexpected and I felt so very unconnected. Like i needed to talk to everyone who ever knew him to insure that he loved me...or thought about me. I mean he's a road nigga....like me. I know that's where I got it from. I suppose I learned, in addition to why Berry Gordy ain't shit, I learned that I didn't want anyone to walk in doubt about whether or not I loved them....just because I'm a road nigga and I'm never around. It reminded me that I needed to see my mother, my cousins, my godchildren, often and always or at least contact them to let them know that even though I'm an asshole music industry person who's rarely around, I still love them.

Then my grandpa...my dad...the man who taught me of functionality and dependability, how to read street signs and my keen sense of direction (ask anyone. I truly have a good sense of direction), gave me my 1st, 2nd, 5th and 8th set of tools, and so much more...and who totally took my mom in when the 1st one failed at every turn....Sheesh. I don't even know where I was going with this actually. Point is, I'm sitting with my momma on mothers day trying to conserve energy in this hot ass house in Phoenix and I wouldn't trade places with anyone in the world. My momma is so good. Ask anyone.

Step your dick up

I like Porcelain Black. She's creamy. I like creamy white girls...like her and Katy Perry and Sasha Grey. If you're going to be white you should be creamy.

I like new artists. And rising ones. Once you're at the top it's kind of boring maybe...like where do you go from here? Okay okay let's perform at the Superbowl! And then you do that and what's next? I know, the PYRAMIDS! Yes the dope shit. I guess I'm just not a glass ceiling kind of girl and neither are the women I've been working with the past few months.

That's been the illest shit about this tour. Being around folks that make you step your dick up. Of course you see all the weakest mother fuckers...well, wait, niggas who didn't appear weak showed their weak shit...it was revealed I should say. Man. I can't have yet another malebashing blog...but I be wondering. Dang. I mean dang. But there were white abolishinists who helped free slaves , so too must their be boys who help out women. Thank God for the few and the proud.

Thank God this shit is over and these talented women are rising to the forefront.

Summer tour's a'warmin up!

THE BIG EASY

Was big and easy. I still want to go hang out tonight but maybe I should repack and sleep for 2 hours. Thing is.....this show was supposed to be hard and crazy, but it wasn't. In spite of having over 400 guests, this shit went off smooth. There are 12 cameras here filming what could possibly be a movie. Talent commented on my crip walking at the bowling alley the other night. I was a gang banger in my former life. He never talks to me. Funny how he did in that moment. I love hip hop.

All in all a pretty smooth day. I can only pray LA will be this smooth. I'll be sans one tm.

I Tell You What

This business is interesting. Friends and business don't mix. But friends who were first business and then friends and THEN you do business with them again??? WACKNESS. Bitches ain't shit.

Fool me once, shame on me....fool me twice, I should punch you in your fuckin neck.

ALL YOU BITCHES IS MY SONS!!!!!!

Meet Me in St. Louis

Outside of my window is the lovely arch and the baseball field where the Cardinals play. Too bad they have an away game. this stadium has really good nose bleed seats and beer. Too bad I can't have beer for another 2 weeks. Lent. Be killing me. I've done a not so good job. I've slipped 3 times in both the pork and beer departments but I'm trying. I need a regiment of some sort. NEED it. Being around all of these young dancer girls is making me, Tina Farris, cover up! COVER UP?! I never thought the day would come....nor did I think I'd be in my late thirties. Ha. Oh it comes Ladies. Sooner than later.

Spring has actually sprung on this tour and I have to send back at least one suitcase. All of my clothes are for warm weather. I have to go shopping today and...well....not for nothing....but I'm in St. Louis. Is this a fashion metropolis or should I be overnighting some shit on line? It's hard to have a day off. You try to do EVERYTHING...work out, go shopping, do a photo shoot, get your hair braided, blah blah blah. And ....well, you know what I gotta do tonight. CASINO..BONG. St. Louis I know whatchu good for baby....I know! I'm going in.

No More King Of Diamonds

I like my strip clubs just like the next latent homo, but this place gave me the heebie jeebeez. I know it's popular. I know these things. I know it's what rap dreams are made of. But I got straight bougie up in there. I didn't want nasty McNasty to serve me a drink. And the girls were lazy as fuck! Especially the ones in our section. Like, I need to see some cellulite ROLLING...or something all the while there was rainmaking a' poppin. There had to have been 30,000 $1 bills floating through the sky. In fact, I went home to shower off the scum of the strip club and found 2 $1 bills in my bra! That was for just standing there too...I wonder what I could do had I actually not had on a turtle neck?

Finally....

I have arrived.

CHUNK OF LIFE

Panic Attacks blow chunks.

A panic attack is a sudden episode of intense fear that develops for no apparent reason and that triggers severe physical reactions. Panic attacks can be very frightening. When panic attacks occur, you might think you're losing control, having a heart attack or even dying.


Management is one of those gigs you do and give 100% every single second....150% what have you, until you possibly crumble into a ball. I'm overwhelmed and I haven't cut out a "chunk of life" for myself. Once again. How many times will you read this and will this lesson be slapped in my face over and over. I get opportunity. When the chips are down, I get opportunity. When my heart is broken, opportunity. At every single fricken turn...VOILA!!! opportunity comes a rap tap tapping on my door...and why? To drown myself in work so that I don't have to feel anything. I am a master of "diving" into work...of "running" away...of ..."keeping it moving"...blah blah blah. And the panic attack comes from not being able to run no where. How bout that? God/Universe all work in such mysterious ways. I can't even tell you....

What calmed down my panic attack? Calling a friend who showed up on my doorstep today. Nothing better than support. Nothing.

DC

Driving in from one of the most convenient airports in the world, Reagan, the cherry blossoms lining the Potomac remind me what a beautiful city our Nations capital is. Driving past the Jefferson Memorial reminds me of a family trip...I must have been 13, where we visited the other Farris'. Aunt Anne, Uncle Bob, their kids, the whole side of my family and my great-grandma. We toured the whole city, as a family. When we got to the Jefferson Memorial, my grandma reached out to me so that I could guide her to the step to sit down. I said "grandma what are you doing?" She responded while pulling a jar of vaseline out of her purse, opened it saying, "I got to grease my feet!" And she proceeded to do just that. My grandpa's mom was just like him, efficient, mindful and a problem solver. I love DC.

Change is constant

This month has been a whirlwind, and with all of the confidentiality agreements I've signed, I can't begin to maneuver a way to type....well....anything.

I know that my tendency to be reactionary blew up in my face....leading me down the peaceful, humbling, and ever needed road of "Begging". Never knew how important begging was and fighting for something was until I couldn't do without it. Whoa. On the other side of vulnerable and it turns out, you don't necessarily feel played every minute of the day like I thought you would. Turns out, it gives you strength....strength I needed to store up on since my role model left the earth...opening night. I did four more shows after hearing the news the my grandfather.....my daddy, the reason the bar is set so incredibly high , passed away. Quickly, in His chair, no pain, quietly and dignified which are his trademarks. Quiet, dignified, honorable gentleman. That's Joe Farris. Can you imagine how different the world would be if those were the characteristics we looked for in a mate VS height and credit score? Joe Farris was the complete package. He could build houses single-handedly and inspect the work himself, get it passed by city inspectors, no problem. He built my first computer. Yes, I said "built". In fact he made all of our first computers...and the desks they sat upon. Always stood up when a lady entered or left the room. Generous...offered whatever he had and suggested "no's" when it couldn't be done or not wise to do so. Ahh...and wise. So wise and knowledgeable about the world, maps, logistics, and the people of the world and what their purpose is.
My papa lived a full life....and as his stoic wife told me, "it was his time. We were blessed. It never got to a point where he couldn't dress himself, etc....he experienced true quality of life.". We're all pretty shocked...of course. Our foundation has been rattled. This one is rough. It's going to take a minute. This is the grandkids first one.....and I'm the oldest....my babies....

Men I love

(in no particular order)

Silbert -- Happy Birthday
Steven -- loves his mama -- niggas who love dey mamas is the best
Shawn and Polo and Justin and Bobby Detroit and Bobby Burbank -- my ride or dies
Donray
Muhammed
Tarik
Ahmir
Kirk

umm.....that's about it :-)

And my booboo!

Marsha Ambrosius: Late Nights & Early Mornings

I've been waiting for this album to come out since November. I do adore her so. I'm so happy she has a solo career. Not for nothing, while Floetry was cool I'm no big fan of spoken word. I was at a program the other night and they were celebrating my grandfather. This lovely lady wrote a beautiful poem and delivered in that spoken word cadence that makes my skin crawl. So rude, I know.

But back to Marsha and this delightful love album she put out. Just in time for me to be in love. The harder I work, the more I find a reason to love someone...else....heh. "Lose Myself" is EVERYTHING....I mean EVERYTHING. The album is so honest and plain. Good writing. I'm looking for good writing. I wish I could write. Publishing. Yes Marsha.

My roommates and I teared up over the Far Away video this morning. It was so modern day Threes Company like us. Kudos Marsha. It's about damn time!

The End Game

I think I just turned the page in life. The one where I don't ask "what I'm going to do when I grow up" to "what's your end game". Where people say, "you're at the age where...." Decisions decisions. The age where I'm not only planning my week long extravaganza 40th birthday, but, when offered jobs, the questions are always. "what is your end game?". I'm not sure if that's exciting or not. The first thing I think of is my mothers impending retirement, my aunt's getting out of the hospital, my dream house in Malibu, etc. But the "end game" is how you actually make this happen. This is what we've been dreaming about all this time right? And what does the end game consist of?
Finances
Frozen eggs
better credit
pay off student loans
vineyard in Tuscany
A book
A TV show
A movie
....I dunno, these sound more like goals again. I guess if I comprise all of my goals to my end game, then I would have a new focus.

I'm raising my 21 year old niece who's excited about life and wondering what she's going to do. I'm reaming her about goals and responsibility and all of the fantastic choices and options she has and blah blah blah. And here I am, smoking a Parliament on my back porch asking myself the same damn thing. I should probably go work out or have sex or something.

But I want you to be MY bitch!!!!

I discovered recently that not only do I not know how to "play the game" with men, I do not even know what the game is. I don't know what it means to readily allow them to think that they are running shit....the art of "falling back" and "allowing men to be men". I don't know what any of that means. Nor do I know how to get there. And it's hurting me. I think it hurts my business to not totally turn Bitch on to 100. It also hurts the business to not. I hate glass ceilings. They make my skin crawl. So I get a carrot dangled in front of me...and I want to go for that carrot. Why not? No where else to go but up, right? Once I get my ambition-o-meter going, I'm full sails ahead. I'm proving my worth. I'm offering to the client what I can do for them. It was dangled in front of me to do so...or so I thought.

So then I'm told, "it's no secret what you want to do." "I know," I say, "I was being transparent to let you know you made a great choice." "Oh no, that was possibly for something for the future, you need to make sure we're good before you do that." See, I thought the fact that you were pursuing meant that it was okay. Dopey me. Fall back. And then I fall back to what? The dangling carrot was the only thing worth fuckin' with they ass in the first muthafuckin place. And so the bait and switch has occurred. And I get why, it works! Totally. I've worked for free. I took the bait. And now it's been switched. I can't get those hours back, but I can tell them to fuck themselves. Thus making me a bitch. And you see how easily it gets turned around? To have a dude flip that shit on me like the dumb bitch he was fucking with yesterday...to even STEP to me in that way, is so got damn disrespectful and wack. My boy told me the other day that he couldn't even fathom how I could work in an industry that is so blatantly misogynistic. And he's a fucking misogynist! How could I? I'mma have to think about that. But I know I'm about to write a book on it.

Low lows and high Highs

Could it be that I am attracting bi-polar people into my life because I'm bi- polar? Or is this PMS? I'm waiting in my Armenian phone pro shop on Melrose and I want to bolt out of here so I can cry. Instead I'm surfing the web, reading the Tracey McMillan book and eavesdropping on the Pinoy workers in here. Not Tagalog I've decided as if I can identify all of the dialects of the Philippino language. I don't know if I am as sad as I am lonely. Looking for a new assistant has been trying. Rehashing what a bitch I am to people isn't the worst thing that can happen, however, quite the contrary. It's pretty cool. I may throw in a therapy session before I head out with Weezy et al. And yet, I don't know why I am this emotional other than the usual chick shit at which -cranky?, is getting played.

I'm sick. I need a brain rest. How do you do that? Buddhism?

No I don't want to go the All Star game. I want to sit on a couch in Inglewood, CA and eat chili dogs with cheese on them. I wish there was onions. I'm the only person I know with a ticket to the All Star game who'd rather watch it on a couch.

tired

My feet ache. So I got reflexology.
My body aches. So I get a massage.
My head itches. So I get my hair done.
My heart aches. So i call my boo.
But now my brain...like what do I do when my brain hurts? I guess people take a vacation but I cannot. I still have to work. And I have to, because I sign up for it. I'm a glutton for punishment. I'm not quite sure what I want out of this world. I can't believe that I'm just bored. I'm tired of people needing stuff. Wanting stuff. Asking me to do stuff. Asking me to ask someone to do stuff. I just want to be. I really want to turn off this ambition button for about 10 days and go surf with my surfing buddy in, I don't know, Phuket or Manila.

But I also want to catch a cold or something so I will be forced to sit still and do nothing. I mean brain nothing. Not think of things. Not think of people coming for my neck to take my job; Not people yelling at me about a job I dont necessarily want to keep;nada. I have reached a point of exhaustion that I have never ever known. I don't see a way out. I'm going to pray on it. Right now.

BEAST MODE

My cousin has this thing he calls "BEAST MODE". He's a ballplayer. He's super focused. And when it's that time right before spring training, he goes into "Beast Mode"....meaning.....he summons all of his strength and discipline and gets on his game. He works out, he stops drinking, he leaves the girls alone, and he goes into "Beast Mode". This happens to me when I get attacked by hate. I have sung this song before. "Oh it's so hard...oh people are so mean, oh....blah blah blah." Some people have husbands to talk to about this. Some people can sit and collapse in their arms and SOMEONE will tell them it will be okay. Thank God I have friends who know me. Because when I do go into Beast Mode....it isn't pretty. All of the armor comes up and I protect myself. Hard. Like Harder than ever. I have people literally trying to take my job...daily. From every turn. I have people I once trusted everything with "too afraid to talk to me" because....God only knows...oh yes, I'm mean and berate people and am condescending. I'm not sure which came first...the chicken or the bitch. I do know that I'm actually too nice. I bring on friends who may or may not be qualified to do anything for me, but I do it, get sucked in, and next thing you know I'm out of cash and out of my mind. Well no more. I am accepting of my bitchness. Why, cuz everyone else is going to sit around and talk about how fucked up shit is and I'm actually going to do something about it. I HAVE to do it. I HAVE to fight people off of me and I HAVE to be and stay in the zone because of the sharks who are out there. It's the people who wouldn't dare take the risks I take that talk the most shit any ways. Fuckers. So I no longer have time to mix business with pleasure. It is a distraction. it takes me out of the zone....the zone I need to stay in to fight said sharks. If God, Yuv and Bo Diebel are the last friends I have on earth because I'm such a bitch then so be it. At least I know they love me for who I am. Beast mode. In it. Rocking it. I'mma make a tshirt.

1st post of 2011

I love how New Year makes you feel. It's like the Monday on steroids! For a productive girl, New Years is like coke. Up in the morning, to do lists 4 pages long, and the drip? Counting each one off until you fall into bed at 830pm! I believe, however, the first week lends it's lack of stress to the fact that people are still on vacation and just now gearing up. Getting people to move is a trial. Hell, getting people to take their Christmas trees down is hard enough! But my list of resolutions/goals is so long, it's going to be hard to get me to focus on one at a time. It makes me beyond excited. I'm up at 5am translating "Monster" into French. Why? Cause I can niggas!

1. Master the art of "patience"
2. Buy my mom the house of her dreams
3. Love without reservation or fear
4. Collect my grandfathers entire discography and own it.
5. Produce a concert with Maxwell and D'Angelo like Sam Cooke and Jackie Wilson.
6. Play "Whatcha gonna do for me?" by Chaka Khan on bass guitar.
7. Produce a film about slavery in Brazil
8. Produce my script (and finish writing it)
9. speak Portuguese fluently
10. See Machu Pichu with my grandmother

So these are the 10 things I want to do before I die....but that don't mean I can't get started on them all this year. Prosperity and enrichment people! That's what the new year is all about for me! Let's focus and get on the grind. Weed out all of the people who want shit too easy. They are lazy and will be leeching off of your energy and motivation. NOTHING worthwhile is easy. Don't get it twisted.

Happy New Year!