[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Tuesday, February 11th, 2003|
|More 'bout me
Well it seems that many of you live journal cats got fancy pictures of yo'self but a brutha like me is to dang cheap (struggling student in NYC need i say more) to buy a digital camera or any camera for that matter. And I do think that being that this is my journal I should then at least have a sipple decription of who Blackmale is so here goes:
I stand five feet ten inches tall, just slightly over the norm, but my height is the only thing close to average about me. My hair, head and facial, is close cropped and lined up, or at times scruffy depending on how I feel or what kind of week I am having (ya`know how it is). My laid-back demeanor seems to exude from my pores, like a pheromone scented fragrance, intoxicating all those around me. Do not let my chill vibe fool you, for beneath this exterior lays a mind, serious and calculating. My dark brown eyes, windows to my soul, are always deep in thought. These eyes have seen so much, and if experience could manifest itself into physical form they would be sculpted in its very image: two pools of knowledge set adrift in a sea of chocolate brown skin. Smooth medium-dark, complexion, and a face possessing features not wholly African, as I am a product of miscegenation as most of us are, but discernable deep within is a noble pride that is very possibly begotten from African royalty of a period long ago. From where exactly I will never know, for that wasstolen from me. My Body shaped in a nice medium build, though not the stature of an Adonis it is fit and healthy. What I am lacking in physical strength, my strong moral character and an inner strength make up for. I know the difference between right and wrong, though maintaining a morality and integrity in this unjust world is an effort many have long since forsaken. This is who I am, accept me as I am, for I will neither bend nor allow my self to be molded into another`s image; I reserve the right to be the creator my own identity and shaper of my own destiny.
|Thursday, December 26th, 2002|
Merry Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, and all those other holidays which used to mean something that have now become nothing more then a means for the expansion of the capitalistic and materialistic hegemonies of the Western Powers.
|Saturday, December 14th, 2002|
I have been to busy and my life too hectic to stop for a moment to write any sort of entry of substance, so I thought I would try something different and post a short story I wrote a while back; fantasy can be just as, if not more, revealing about a person then actual experiences.
Pushed to the Brink of Life (title is a work in progress)
He sat perched like a large black bird of prey, observing its next victim, watching intently with hunger filled eyes. He gazed down from high above the wild urban jungle, which roared and writhed bellow, coursing with an untamed energy, giving it life beyond mere skyscrapers and asphalt. Looking down, he consumed all with his eyes, soaking up the sights as if he was a stranger in his own land. This was his sacred spot, as when he went to the roof of his building, it ceased being a crumbling tenement, broken down and loathsome. It became for him a sanctuary, devoid of the ills, which plagued it in reality. Here, all was how he envisioned it, reality bent to his every whim, malleable like clay in his skilled artisan hands. He was not delusional, nor did he have a God complex. He just found comfort in reverting to fantasy, when the real world became too unbearable, an exercise in stress reduction but nothing more. This was the only place he felt in control, not simply a mindless drone, marching at the behest of some unseen master.
Sitting, as he was, legs and feet dangling over an edge that spanned twenty stories straight up toward the sky, he contemplated the irony. He, high above as if in the heavens, dwelled in a place in which no better imitation of hell could have been constructed. The cool breeze, brushed against his face, as he leaned over the edge even further. The sounds of the city, resonated in his ears, but the silent resolve which had overcome him, disallowed the noise to enter his perception. Poised in that position his mind turned to dark thoughts. He was not considering suicide; he was too strong to give up in such a cowardly way. He just wanted to test death so that he would know he was alive. His present state, as it was, could hardly be distinguished from that of death. He woke; he worked; he ate; he slept. Somewhere he had fallen into a monotonous routine, a perpetual cycle of a collection of meaningless tasks he felt compelled to carry out each day. Why? There was a time far off in what seemed like a different life, when things were not as bleak. Yet, he was not sure if that was just another mirage his mind had created to whitewash the pain, for now those few happy memories had begun to fade. Lifting himself up, he stood on the narrow ledge, the wind now blew stronger and with each gust we wavered slightly. He held his arms outstretched, in the manner of a tightrope walker. His gaze turned downward toward the city vivaciously surging with motion, involuntary as if he were motivated by instinct alone. The height was impressive, and its pure immensity suddenly stuck him like blow to the stomach, rendering him breathless, momentarily. Turning looking at the ledge, it seemed so narrow now. He could fit both his feet, but there was little room besides. He shut his eyes and began walking forward, blindly proceeding in this mortal game, Russian roulette without the gun.
Each step brought him closer to death. Its sweat flavor stained his lips; he could taste the intoxicating elixirs on the two chapped mounds of flesh as he bit on them, attempting to make his fear subside. His heart raced in hard irregular palpations, so intense his chest cavity felt near explosion; he had never felt so alive. Teetering on the slender median between life and death, made him truly aware of his mortality, and how fragile life was. He felt free, free from the bondage of his self-inflicted shackles, forged from his fear, doubts and anxieties. His pace quickened, he knew he was playing a deadly game because there could not be but a few feet left before he ran out of ledge. He never wanted this feeling to end; he did not know if he could stop. The temptation to continue on was too great. The yearn surged within him, churning his insides, with anticipation and delight. As went forward, he could think about nothing else but that much wanted next step. What if he took that last step and could not stop himself; he no longer feared it. Nothing at the moment, but the warm sensation each step brought, and the feel of the cool breeze against his body, occupied his mind.
Slowly he raised is leg and brought down his foot, the exhilaration was almost orgasmic, as he lowered his leg he felt the edge of the ledge beneath his laceless, dirt covered, Adidas. The front part of his foot hung over, reaching the last bit of ledge, making him quickly opened his eyes. Looking down suspended him in some catatonic fit; his muscles clenched, and his ability for movement evaded him. He found some strength from the inner recesses of psyche turned his head, and jumped……. Back onto the roof, safely hitting the ground with only minor bruising. He brushed himself off, leaving the roof, only until the next day, where he would return and once again to scale the ledge as he did ever day.
DISCLAIMER: Do not attempt this at home. This story is not about suicide, nor does it promote such behaviors. It is meant to be an allegory, where the character finds “life” (in the nonliteral sense) when his fears and inhibitions are abandoned, especially those concerning death, but the total lack of these are found to be of detriment to life: so one must walk that middle ground or metaphoric ledge.
|Thursday, December 5th, 2002|
|Let us not forget!!!
I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving; I most definitely did because I find that being surrounded by friends and family to be one of the greatest things ever. Yet there is the other side to Thanksgiving. It is hard, to think back and truly ponder what such a day commemorates: the rape, pillage, thievery, and decimation of an entire land and people. How many of us had a moment of silence or at the very least a brief pause in recognition of the many Native Americans who's lives, lands, families, societies, and cultures were savagely taken from them. If you did not then let us now take a moment, not only for the Native American cause but for all groups and individuals who have been persecuted, oppressed, exploited, discriminated against, murdered, lynched, etc. For it is through this psychic, physical, and cultural violence that America was forged, let us not forget and be doomed to relive such travesties.
|Tuesday, November 26th, 2002|
It is that thing that is on your mind that seems to somehow succeed in pushing everything else out. It fu*ks wit' your mental and emotion state, and seems to consume you whole, devouring your very being until there is nothing left…. Stress!!!!
I feel stressed today, stressed as much as I get, and since I am very chill and laid back kind of guy, to the average person it is somewhere probably on the verge between slightly annoyed and moderately frustrated. I feel as if I have fifty thousand things for school, I am still looking for a job, and on top of all that I am moving into my new place on the 1st. What, whams that, why am I siting here writing in my live journal? Huh…I should be doing what right now? I'm what, procrastinating you say? Ok, ok you made you point
|Tuesday, November 5th, 2002|
‘Sup folks this is blackmale, welcome to my world. I am new to this whole live journal thang so cut a brutha sum slack till I get the hang of it. Feel free to add me on your friends list and I will reciprocate the luv (at sum point). A little about me: I am that chill type-o-cat, whose interests vary, spanning an eclectic assortment of activities, ranging from spending a quiet day in a museum to partying to the sun comes up in a club. I am a well balanced individual who likes to surround himself with others who are open-minded and positive in their attitude. So, I invite y’all into my life as it unfolds in the
forthcoming entries of my online journal. I am excited about the possibility to tap into a network that brings together a vast and diverse group of people from all around the country and possibly beyond.
There are momentous in everyone’s life when suddenly one is forced to reassess the direction one is currently heading, resulting in either a change direction or reaffirmation of the original course and an intensified momentum. I found myself in such a pivotal crossroads in my life a few months ago. For nearly five years I have been living and studying in Boston, at one of the many local universities. I found myself suddenly embarking on my senior year in college, and completely confused as to how the year
seemed to simply fly by, as if mere seconds. In my mind I felt as if I had just started this great journey that was now nearing its culmination in some strange cultish ceremony, filled with freakish fanatics dressed in multicolored robes, tediously long chants, and ridiculous ritualized processions, all for some precious scroll of paper. The day came
and went and then that question began to haunt me: “So what are you going to do next?” It seemed as if every time I bumped into someone I knew that question would come up, and it began to torment me. I began to just lash out with the cutting blade of sarcasm, a weapon and skill I honed during the traumatic teens years: “I am going to travel around
the world selling philosophy door to door, and possibly bumper stickers, but I haven’t quite worked out all the detail yet!” Well the look on their faces filled me with all the satisfaction I need to maintain my sanity until, the next flood of incessant questioning. I could stay in Boston, a city in which I was increasingly tiring of, or leave the city and try something new. I decided that a change in location would be good, but I also felt that a much deeper change was due. I began to look into the grad programs and applying for those in which I felt that I could commit to. After grueling application process and some last minute maneuvering, things began to fall into place. Now here I am in the Big
Apple, the NYC, a new city a new school and a whole new set of challenges and experiences waiting for me out that door.