Oprah Winfrey presents..."Their Eyes Were Watching God"

I thought it was a good intepretation...very erotic! It moved right along with the novel. And most of the lines were directly from the book. EXCEPT, "Whatchu doin Janie?" "Watchin God." LOL!! I thought that was kinda awkward.

Nevertheless, I loved Halle as Janie. She was believable. I also liked that Hurston's sense of humor came across exactly as written in the book, ie. Eatonville's gossipy women, the Storefront joke sessions with the townspeople (especially when Mayor Starks insulted Janie about how she cut the tobacco plug and her retaliation).

I didn't like some of the omissions from the book though:

1. In the book, Mayor Starks actually accused Janie of putting "roots" on him and poisoning him to death. He told all of the townspeople and eventually stopped speaking to Janie and would only eat the lunch and dinner prepared by other women in the town. This lead up to him saying, "I hope thunder and lightening kill you dead." Without that, the movie made Mayor Starks' emotions towards Janie to seem excessively cruel and unreasonable. I interpreted Mayor Starks as a man who truly loved Janie but couldn't "keep up." So his jealousy turned to rage. And then it worsened when his paranoia made him think she was murdering him.

2. Tea Cake actually won all of Janie's money back after he initially lost it gambling. (if memory serves me correctly) I guess they just wanted to show some negative aspect to Tea Cake in the film without showing that he actually hit her too, according to the book. (which I suppose was customary during that time!?!)

3. They took Janie's murder trial completely out of the movie. I think the trial and the fact that people actually turned against her and accused her of murdering Tea Cake showed more of Janie's strength and final discovery of Self.

Questions:

• I wonder if there will be any Emmy nods?
• Terrance Howard...Micheal Ealy, rising stars?
• Is there a new breed of African American actors? So many familiar faces. Hello, Lackawanna Blues!?

Tweet Listening Party!!!

Listen here! - Courtesy of audioditions.com

It always takes me a few days to digest a new album. But for what it's worth after two days of listening...

The fact remains, Tweet makes me want to simply:

1. Stand on the balcony and watch the horizon
2. Lay watching the smoke unfurl from Patchouli incense
3. Stare in the mirror, dazed and confused with introspect

Sample lyrics:

"...slipped on an iceberg, so cold/slipped up and fell in love with an iceberg, so cold/your love is so cold..." - metaphorical illusions

"Taxi take me to his home/I want to give him all of me cuz I'm alone!!!!" - That track gives me visuals like "Smoking cigarettes" did last album. Loves it!

"The Two of Us" - This joint features her daughter, who is a clone! WOW!!

"Turn Da Lights Off" - When did Kwame' (Polka Dots) become such a HOT producer!?!

Tweet's albums make the club bangers (singles) seem out of place. Sometimes, I want Missy to shut the Hell up and stop messing up the flow. I guess that's why the obvious Missy collabos are at the beginning and the end.

Nevertheless, I will be vibratin' on the dancefloor w/ my vodka cran up in the air harmonizing to that final joint..."We don't need no water..."

Pay careful attention.

Inner City Blues

I've gotten into an interesting discussion with The Black Informant.

Question of the Day:

Is one of the qualifications of being considered “black": "Must have lived in the “hood?”

Click and see.

Oprah Winfrey presents..."Their Eyes Were Watching God" starring Halle Berry on March 6, 2005 9/8c on ABC.

I am always worried when a novel comes to life in a movie. It never represents what I envisioned. And I hate to be like, "hmm...that's not how I pictured it."

And more importantly, I like that books are left up to the readers own illustration. Nobody needs to tell me what Raymond Tyler looks like. I know him.

And in most cases, books need no other interpretation anyway. Yet, the fact of the matter is that in this society great stories are oftentimes never told to the masses when left in written form.

How many truly avid readers do you know? I am even embarrassed at how little I have read in the past few years. For me, it is hard for a book to compete with reality tv. That's my guilty pleasure. So, in essence, I understand the lack of readership. DEATH TO TELEVISION!

Nevertheless, soon to come is an interpretation of Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God presented by Oprah Winfrey. I personally revelled in Beloved. I thought it was true to Toni Morrison's work. So, I trust that I can count on Oprah to do any novel justice on the small or big screen. Especially this one.

Plus, the previews have gotten me all too excited. I just cannot imagine how the flood scene is gonna work?!

Maximillian (Max) prior to adoption at Fulton County Animal Services 

Maximillian

Santa brought me a canine companion for Christmas. I had always wanted a pet. I just didn't know if I was necessarily ready for the committment. I would constantly talk myself out of purchasing one. So needless to say, I recently decided it was time to find out.

My only stipulation was that the dog be rescued from the pound. I wanted to feel as though I had saved a life, a carnivorous one. And I did. Maximillian (Max) was adopted with kennel cough, conjunctivitis, neuter infection, flea infestation, and a severely matted coat amongst other things. All the poor dog had strength to do was to lick his persistent runny nose and penis sutures from the neutering...ugghh!

Now it's February and all is nearly well. In the process, he has become quite attached to me...following me from room to room, attempting to sleep in the bed with me, and displaying pure joy as soon as I walk into the house.

Nevertheless, I feel as though I've adopted a child. (Maybe I'm the one whose become attached!?!?)

Killing Me Softly

I felt all flushed with fever
Embarassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

Having someone discover your blog unexpectedly can put you at a menacing handicap. Once "outed," I simply disappeared. Now I think I'm back.

Journaling has always been cathartic to me. Sometimes I write knowing I never want to see what has been written once it is completed. It is that I only desire the process of purging the thoughts and ideas into tangible representative symbols on a computer screen or piece of paper.

Other times, the recorded thoughts and subsequent reminiscence is worth the cataloging. Acknowledging the documented "then and now" can only illustrate life's growing pains, right?

Nevertheless, the addition of online "publishing" has added another aspect of journaling that I have grown to appreciate (and despise) in an effort to capture a collective journey of individuals caught up in this cyber hustle.

Am I up for this ride, again?

Today, I am a rich white woman.

When the sun greeted me this morning, I knew that today would be a great day. A blessed day. And it was confirmed as I was on the elevator at work making my way towards my office when the elevator opened and in walked Jane Fonda (I swear to God).

Thought for today:

Live, see, breathe, be...as if you were a rich white woman.

I return...bearing gifts!

Preview the new Fantasia tracks:

1st single and title track: Free Yourself f/ Missy Elliott
Ain't Gon Beg
Baby Mama
Selfish
Truth Is

I must admit that I'm not overwhelmed with excitement...but there is hope in the yet remaining 5-6 other tracks.

Is it me or has Betty Wright been doing the damn thing these last few years?
 

• Erykah Badu featuring Betty Wright - "A.D. 2000" on Mama's Gun.
• Getting Sara together on Making the Band 2 on MTV.
• Collabo on Joss Stone's collection of Soul Sessions.
• Nina Sky featuring Betty Wright - "You Deserve."
• Angie Stone featuring Betty Wright - "That Kind of Love" on Stone Love.

No Ifs, Ands or Butts...

I quit smoking cigarettes yesterday! Yep, it was my official quit day. (My behavior modification program requires that I make announcements to hold myself accountable!?)

I don't even know why it has taken me so long. Actually, I do. As a Public Health professional, I am quite familiar with social and behavioral science theories. I've been in the Contemplative stage of the Transtheoretical Model of Behavior Change for a few months now. Voila!!

In addition, the Spirit spoke to me with the use of...what my Momma would call...a "confirmation."

A few weeks ago, I was watching Sex and the City, Season 3, Episode # 35 "No Ifs, Ands, or Butts" in which Aidan tells Carrie that he can't date a smoker. She attempts to quit cold turkey and runs out of their dinner date fiending like a crackwhore for a few puffs of an emergency cigarette in which she subsequently dropped in the sewer crate on the street corner. After getting caught smoking, she starts the patch.

And on Monday, I went to see OhSix in the middle of the night. On the drive over, I lit up my Salem Ultralight and inhaled. I parked my ride, popped in a cherry Jolly Rancher and knocked on the door. His room was midnight black and he was already in the bed, so I climbed in.

OhSix: Whatchu been smoking?
me: (shit) Nothing.
OhSix: You sure?
me: It's just a cigarette.
OhSix: I ain't know you smoked!?
me: I don't...really...not that much.
(silence...I smell my hands and cup my breath...)
OhSix: Whatchu doing...smelling yourself?
me: No.

So here I am now...Day 2. I bought the patch, but I have been able to control the cravings without them. I don't know if I will even start them or not. I wasn't a big smoker in the first place...less than or equal to 5 a day. Therefore, I may be able to manage cold turkey.

Pros/Cons:
Pro: I have an increased appetite. I can now better focus on that weight gain goal and step up on Kanye's Workout Plan.
Con: Carrie evenually relapsed.

DAMN!

I was reading a discussion forum on the Cosby debacle and ran across this line from what I assumed is a white guy:

"I can see why the poor black youth are so disenfranchised....even their own people do not believe they are worth anything." - the-breaks forum

Deafening silence

After watching Saddam Hussein call President Bush the "real criminal" on CNN yesterday, I happened to afford the opportunity to watch the entire documentary Fahrenheit 9/11 while at the barbershop today. (Bootlegging at it's best...)

I'm speechless.

And just when I thought I could utter a simple monosyllabic word, Bill Cosby silenced me again by his commentary at the Rainbow/PUSH Coalition & Citizenship Education Fund's Annual Conference.

I think I've swallowed my tongue.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I been gone for a minute. Now I'm back with the jump off. Well...not really.

June of 2004 was an interesting epiphanic month. A funeral. Psuedo family reunion. Psuedo class reunion. PRIDE. Mega-Fest. Dating.

Funeral
One of my cousins lost a long battle with cancer. The family knew death was near, but its sudden arrival was still unsettling. The religious cynic in me cringed at the thought of a typical Southern funeral. And it was.

"Weeping may endureth for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."
"Troubles don't last always."
"He picked me up, turned me around, placed my feet on solid ground."
"One glad morning, when this life is over, I'll fly away."
"You may not have tomorrow, so choose salvation today."

It was cliche after cliche with the congregation in full call and response.

Moms: (knowing my cynicism) That was a nice homegoing service. Did you get the message?
Me: Oh I got it alright.
Moms: Well what did you think?
Me: Honestly?
Moms: Hmph...
Me: I thought it was inappropriate. I couldn't believe there was actually an alter call at the funeral. Thirty-something people walked up and surrounded the coffin while the minister solicited church members. What happened to honoring the life of the deceased?
Moms: Sometimes death can lead people to Him.

RIP Phyllis.

Psuedo Family Reunion
And of course, the funeral afterparty gets real krunk. The conversation I regret:

Teenage male cousin: Damn, I just founnd out that that was our cousin over there. (He points at a female. We both stare in her direction making eye contact as my step mother overhears.)
Me: Everybody here is a cousin.
Step Mom: Well, you know in Louisiana that's legal! (sarcasm)
Teenage male cousin: Word?
(We all laugh hysterically)
Teenage female cousin: (slyly walks over) Ya'll talking bout me?
Teenage male cousin: Yeah! Talking bout how if you weren't my cousin I would seriously be trying to holla at you!
(Everyone laughs hysterically again)
Me: (rolling my eyes at young male hypermasculinity)
Teenage female cousin: (looks at teenage male cousin) You too... (walks away)

Scare me!

Psuedo Class Reunion
I then ran into the girl I went to Junior prom with (no kin) in the parking lot. She had a lot of questions. I don't know if it was sincere interest or whether she was validating something she had heard. It wasn't a problem though. I could careless.

Yes, I finished undergrad and grad school.
Yes, I live in Atlanta now.
This is where I work.
This is what I do.
No, I'm not married.
No, I'm not dating anyone seriously.
No, I haven't talked to anyone from highschool.
Here's my number.

And as soon as 48 hours could pass, I received a phone call from another classmate who is living in Atlanta. From this reunion, the gossip poured, thick and coating like evaporated milk. Thank God I escaped the rural South.

Mega-Fest
Back in Atlanta...chance would have it that I didn't host any family for the corporate sponsored revival, better known as Mega-Fest. I guess they knew better. Ironically, one of my bestfriends, DaScroller, came with some of his family from New Orleans to attend. "Why?", I asked. "Ya'll are Catholic!"

Moms: (calling my cell) I'm back home from the Mega-Fest. Sorry I didn't get to see you.
Me: I was wondering if you even came or not.
Moms: Yeah, you know I came down with some people and...blah...blah...blah. Where you at?
Me: The park.
Moms: You down there for what I saw that commercial for?
Me: What commercial?
Moms: Something I saw on TV...
Me: I'm here for PRIDE.
Moms: Yeah, that's it. They said right after our convention...in coming another kind...umm hmmmm...
Me: (laughing) I didn't know they had commercials...
Moms: It was on the news. Be careful out there.

PRIDE and Dating
I ran into a lot of people I hadn't seen in ages in the park for Atlanta Gay PRIDE. But I didn't meet anyone new. Not that I believed I needed to anyway, per se. I have always been the serial monagamist. Recently that has changed. But I haven't ventured all the way into casual sex either. I find it hard to seriously get to know more than one person at a time in an intimate and romantic way. But I get so tired of putting my eggs in one basket and getting the inevitable.

So now I am holding meetings with OhSix and DaBoriqua. Just two at a time...no mas. They both are smart, attractive, ambitious, have their own car/apartment, etc. What sets them apart? It's too early to tell. I can't call it. To make a comparison, I would have to be shallow and base it on the physical connections.

OhSix - passive aggressive, versatile, at night and in the morning, shower together

DaBoriqua - aggressively submissive, bottom, Latin heat and passion, kisses me goodbye

This is gonna be one ol' episode of ElimiDate!

I am filled with Christ love! - Saved!

Last Saturday, I had sushi with a new acquaintance, Da Boriqua. After a long day of Spring cleaning, I decided to meet him at Ru San's in midtown Atlanta for an afternoon feast. We engulfed countless servings from a smorgasbord of maki, nigiri and sashimi sushi. And I generally don't eat sushi when I'm famished because I always find myself insatiable, but for whatever reason this time I was stuffed beyond satisfaction.

Da Boriqua spoke with a New York accent reminiscent of what you would find in an Enrique Cruz production. However, he didn't necessarily have that Blatino look or feel. There was no thug wear...no Puerto Rican regalia...no "mami" this or "papi" that. Just your simple standard American English wearing Diesal jeans and t-shirt.

To my surprise, we had quite an interesting conversation. We talked about our love for spirits, ie. Vodka, Gin and Tequila. We both tend to drink to get drunk. "Can't we think about the clarity, distillation, taste or purity of alcohol later?!" Then we shared drunken horror stories and laughed between each baptism of sushi into pools of soy sauce.

Last night we met again. It started out as a movie date, but Saved! and The Stepford Wives wasn't playing until today. His ignorance as to what was currently playing and to this week's new releases led me to cancel the theater as a date all together. So I met him at his apartment and watched Futurama, Family Guy, and King of the Hill back to back. I have never claimed to be a fan of animation...even as a child. I was the one who literally rushed home to catch the 4 o'clock Oprah after school each day. I swear! Nevertheless, I diligently sat and watched with Da Boriqua. The storylines were surprisingly smart for how adolescent I perceived animation to be.

After seeing him doze off within scenes, I suggested that I let him rest by leaving.

Da Boriqua: You don't have to leave. You can lay with me.
Me: (resist and flee!!) Where am I gonna lay?
Da Boriqua: Here or in my bed. We just layin...
Me: Aiight.

I put on some of his shorts. He changed into a tee and running pants. We got in the bed.

Da Boriqua: I wanted to ask you to lay with me a long time ago.
Me: Word?

We spooned ever so tightly. He fell asleep. I dozed in and out due to his sleep apnea. After I couldn't take it anymore, I finally got up and out of the bed...got dressed...woke him up...and told him I had to get home (lies).

And now as I reminisce on the time spent, I wonder how long this one will last?

Why must I pose as a cyclist in the park? Have I not learned my lesson from the recent collision? But still I rise...
 

To Grandma, with love...

Many months ago, I splurged and bought an Egyptian Cotton (280 thread count) sheet and pillow set for my bed. For no apparent reason, the package sat in my linen closet up until this past weekend.

I am not sure why I never used the sheet set up until now. I think it is because I was raised with a grandmother who never used her "good stuff."

The Summers I spent at my grandmother's house as a child included:

1. Plastic runners "protecting" the carpet in high traffic areas such as the living room and main hallways.

2. "Do Not Touch" towel sets nicely folded and displayed in the bathrooms.

3. Candles still wrapped in the plastic outercovering, never to be burned...years at a time.

4. "Good" dishes which were only used during Christmas, Thanksgiving, and the occasional Sunday when company visited.

I'm not going to dispute my grandmother's logic/illogic concerning her valuables. That would be futile. But tonight, and from this day forward, I will sleep in Egyptian luxury...because I can...and should.

I think I'm READY NOW for a NASTY GRIND...

It never ceases to amaze me. Truth Hurts and Adina Howard may just be what I need to get me through the Summer.

Sample lyrics:

Throw me on the counter//By the kitchen door//Let's do acrobatics//Make my body sore//Make the neighbors jealous//Bet I'll make you scream//My legs around your pelvis//You ain't gonna run from me - Ready Now by Truth Hurts

You do me and watch as I do you//Two bodies vibrating, your manhood is escalating//Tongues touch, bodies trace//Turn over, I don't see your face//Kiss your neck, your back, your toes, what's next? - Nasty Grind by Adina Howard

"What's in your NetFlix queue?" - Esquire (June 2004, pg. 52) asks the question...

Here are my next five:

1. India.Arie - Live in Brazil

2. The Women of Brewster Place

3. Thirteen

4. Poison

5. Swimming Pool

What's in yours?

When it all...all falls down... - Lauryn Hill

I had an early dinner with Gianni today at Willy's Mexicana Grill in Piedmont Park. I brought my bike so I could work in some cardio within the park while taking in the Spring air.

After eating, I cycled into the park passing dogwalkers, joggers, skateboarders and frisbee throwers. I was really enjoying the buzz of the wind around my ears when I approached a decline and out of nowhere found myself face down into the pavement with my bike two feet behind me...the 360 degrees of the wheels were still spinning ever so swiftly.

I initially felt nothing...not even embarassment. Then I realized that I was still face down in the pavement and probably 7 seconds had passed...1...2...3...4...5...6...7. "I must get up immediately," I thought. And when I did, I noticed a group of approximately nine people having a festive picnic adjacent to the site of my collision with apparently NOTHING! All heads were turned in my direction. There was a look of sincere concern on their faces...not amusement...not humor....CONCERN. I thought, "Did my body being propelled by a mountain bike look that ghastly?" Obviously it did.

I checked my body and immediately felt the stinging sensations surrounding my left hand, right knee, and right elbow. It wasn't anything too detrimental...just a few scrapes. However, my hand now has a pretty large piece of skin on my palm which has been lacerated and pulled back forming a flap of dead flesh resembling a corpse from CSI.

And in an effort to let no man/woman/child put me and my committment to working out asunder, I attempted to go full throttle into my usual weight training regimen. However, my left hand was not as committed.

I think I have sprained my wrist.