There are many things in life about which I often worry: Will I ever find love? What is my purpose? Why does the smell of gasoline turn me on so? Yes, these are questions that keep my mind quite occupied throughout the day; but as we all know, life likes to throw us curve balls every now and then…just to spice things up. One such query from the house of unexpected is the question I have today…
What do I do when my toenail comes off?
A few months ago, with the help of a friend, I was moving furniture around my apartment. As we were relocating a medium-sized storage unit, I stubbed my big toe, left foot, on the bottom of the wooden paneling. There was blood, and there was pain; but after a few days, that all subsided. I took the proper precautions of at home medical care- rinsing it with water, applying alcohol and ointment, and covering it with a band-aid- and thought it best to let the toe heal on its own. After a week or so the toenail started to change in color and eventually lost its former glossy pink beauty- completely dashing my hopes of being crowned Miss 2009 World’s Prettiest Feet. I cried myself to sleep for a few nights- settling into the reality that I would be, once again, bested in competition by the great Dwight Eubanks- but I somehow found the strength to carry on (there’s still the hand competition).
The other day, while going about my usual morning ritual of singing, dancing and dressing for work, I felt the unmistakable tear of tissue as I stepped into my shoe. I knew it was over. Any hopes of future competition…gone. I removed my sock and was introduced to a big toe almost completely abandoned of toenail. I could just see Dwight shaking his head… “oh, how dreadful,” I knew he would say when heard the story! The toenail is not completely severed, however I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before I end up shaking it out of my sock, or wake up to find my cat shuffling it around the room like a new toy.
I’m know I’m not the first to have had this issue, so I, once again, pose this unexpected and certainly unintended question to all you people out there in cyberspace. What do you do when your toenail comes off?
The sudden turn in the weather has wreaked havoc on my body. Currently sittin’ on a mountain of snot-soaked tissues as Robitussin and Chicken Noodle Soup course through my system. This too shall pass.
…that my computer’s hard drive is dead and so, until further notice, my entries will be posted from my iPhone. Sad, I know, but I’m trying to be unstoppable, get out of my own way, and get my ish back together.
E. Lynn Harris passed away Friday at the early age of 54. I don’t know the conditions that caused his death, but it came very unexpectedly and, like many celebrity deaths we’ve experienced this summer, leaves me stunned.
Though I haven’t read all of his work, his first book, “Invisible Life” was the first I happened upon that featured black gay men who like other men. There have been many things said about the way Harris depicts the black gay male in his books, but I, for one, am really grateful for him because he paved the way for writers like myself to flourish while staying true to who we are.
I thank you, E. Lynn, for inspiring me to not be afraid to write what I feel. I dug out my copy of “Invisible Life” and shall read it this week in your honor. You will be greatly missed.
My friend and I woke up feeling great and had a Ledisi jam session. If you don’t know who Ledisi is, I suggest you step up and catch up… ‘cuz you’re really missing out! Peep the morning fun:
My friend mentioned this to me today as we were strolling down the street. He was describing the manner in which men (specifically black men) saunter around the blocks of their neighborhood. “You know the kind of guys you see walking around that just have that swagger- that emanating presence of confidence and sexuality,” he said? “They walk with their dicks!” My right eye twitched and eventually released a heavy side-eye upon the fuckery I thought was that statement; but trotting down the long stretch of road leading to the Utica A-train I encountered several guys who, as subtly as they could, directed their gaze to my friend and his apparent “swagger.” I was intrigued by his theory. There were glances in his direction as we approached, and turned, back-facing gazes as we passed. Whether or not they were checking him out, I don’t know; but they were looking…hard. He attributed all the attention to the confidence in his step (he said he feels amazing today) and the security he has in his own manhood, asserting, “I may be a little feminine, but I got a dick and I love being a man. Guys look at me and like my swagger ‘cuz I, like them, walk with my dick. That’s what you gotta do… walk with your dick!”
walk. with. my. dick. hmmm…
I’ve given much thought to the general meaning of the word, “swagger” and I’m admittedly still a little fuzzy; at least I was until this afternoon. I looked it up in the Urban Dictionary and found several definitions. A person’s swagger (or “swagga” as it is more commonly known) is:
“How one presents him or her self to the world. Swagger is shown from how the person handles a situation. It can also be shown in a person’s walk.”
I didn’t quite grasp onto this particular definition- the use of the word “situation” here irked me and derailed my understanding. I kinda hate how much we [read: black people (including myself)] repeatedly use that word as a way to, I dunno, NOT fully describe the events or circumstances about which we’re talking… but that’s just me. I found another, more satisfying, definition that simply defined “swagger” as:
“A person’s style- the way they walk, talk, dress.”
Clearly, defining the word “swagger” isn’t all that difficult and I’m just slow. After reading through some of the other definitions, though, I realized that my confusion isn’t about how swagger is defined, but more so how [a prominent] swagger is exuded. I’ve only really heard the word used to describe the more urban or “hood” dick-walkers figures of the black male community as opposed to someone like myself… or, say, Wayne Brady. Can I not have swagger; or is my swagger just not yet evolved? The suggestion to “walk with your dick” does sound appealing in this I-haven’t-had-sex-in-over-a-year age, but would it really give me swagger? What does it even mean to walk with your dick? I decided to put it to the test.
While traipsing around Soho this afternoon with my newly self-proclaimed dick-walking friend I, myself, tried to attempt walking with my dick. When my thoughts traveled to the task at hand I pushed my groin outward, and drew all my attention to the power of my penile area. It felt, for a minute, very “welcome to my penis”-esque (and I’m sure my facial expressions could have gotten me arrested, somewhere); but soon the concept set in, over the execution, and I was able to pull my body together. I recognized that it’s not about expressing my penis power physically (the penis, in fact, is irrelevant altogether), but about expressing the confidence—the swagger—behind it. “Walk with your dick” now made sense- giving me a thoughtful and fun way to exude confidence; and my side-eye the space to retreat and slumber once again.
When it comes to having swagger, you exude it by way of being. Being tha shit—many imitators, but no contenders! You take that mentality with you everywhere you go, and use it in everything you do. You WALK WIT YO’ DICK! Oh, it’s on- my life is now changed! I have crossed over into swagger territory, people. It’s only a matter of time before I reach official dick-walker status! My grind is on and my hustle has stepped up. It’s about to go down! Who’s got their swagga on?
People talk in normal sentences. Normal sentences, when written down, have both upper and lowercase letters. It is time to for some normalcy in my written sentences. I thank your eyes for being so patient with my previous madness.
one of my many summertime pleasures is the soul summit music festival in brooklyn. it takes place in ft. greene park on sundays from 3-9pm, and is one serious dance party! many djs come out to spin at this much anticipated yearly extravaganza- attracting the most eclectic mix of people in the spirit of unity and liberation; and amongst them, i get my LIFE dancing and taking in all the positive energy.
my friend, jashiro, and I spent this past sunday afternoon in the park eating, talking, laughing, and eventually, dancing the evening away:
there’s one more music festival left this summer: august 2nd. i highly suggest, if you’re in the area, that you come out and get your life as well! definitely a good time.
i decided this morning, after a long hiatus, to resume my half-hour morning run routine. 15 minutes in- on the corner of Marcus Garvey and Myrtle Ave- i stepped off the curb and twisted my ankle. really, universe?
the devil is a LIAR!!!
hobbling back home now, but i’ll be back. i WON’T be defeated!
will on October 19th, 2009
