things that are true. added to in perpetuity.

A)
I was watching a football game one day. Giants versus somebody, and Osi Umenwhatever, the defensive end made a sack. He celebrated by jogging up field, one hand simulating a plate, and the other motioning like he was eating. Justin Tuck, the defensive tackle rushed over to him, patted him on the back, and started to mimic his celebration.

You can't do that. If the celebration isn't meant for two people (like the jumping side-shoulder bump), or not pre-planned for you and you teammate/homeboy, then you just can't celebrate beyond a hand-clap. Maybe several handclaps. But to copy the celebration makes you like like an expert pole-rider. Someone seeing you will think

"Damn. Why is he riding his nuts so hard?"

And that's no good. In fact, it's shameful. Maybe you think doing another celebration could save you. It won't. It would look stupid with two people doing two different celebrations caused by the same event. And you still look like your favorite swing set is your man's scrotum.

B)
If you say, "to be perfectly honest", the statement that follows should be savage, preferably with a curse word in it somewhere in the phrase. If you don't curse, you should. But if you don't, then don't. But don't cheapen such a necessary phrase such as "to be perfectly honest" with a pleasantry with a couple rough spots. In this world of deception and lies, passive aggressive behavior and the like, we need honesty. And "to be perfectly honest" is just the alley-oop some of us need in order to gracefully jam on someone.

Wrong: "to be quite honest, I don't believe that behavior was the smartest course of action." "to be perfectly honest, I think think that was too bright."

Right: "to be perfectly honestly with you main man, you are a fucking numskull for doing that dumb ass shit. Live near a microwave tower, become sterile and do us all a favor. Smart like a wet sack of hammers."

It seems rough. It is. But I mean, it is honest. You shouldn't do it often, jam on someone like that. But when you do, make it count. It might be the wake up shout they need.

C)
Aight, this one applies more for men. There are two different types of toilets we encounter. Toilets we try to piss in (house toilets, hopefully) and toilets we try to piss at (bar toilets).

Never shit in a piss-at toilet.

D)
This one is for the women. If you ever looked down at your feet, and thought even for a second that your feet are a little big, if your your below 5'5 and wear a 9 or above, don't look at, think about, cop or definitely wear All-white Air Force Ones or any variations of the all whites. Or Timbs. You know if your shits are big. They make you look ridiculous. Like big ass ice-cream sandwiches without that brown cake. Running around like you jammed your feet in some damn tissue boxes. . Never should someone look at your feet and think "shitkickers".

E)
Men, hear this. You can't go to the bar and order certain drinks. Straight up. I don't care if your
1) not much of a drinker 2) they taste good or 3) they get you trashed.

1a) If your not much of a drinker, then don't drink. Or drink beer. If you don't like beer, then don't drink.
2a) You shouldn't be drinking liquor because "it tastes good". No offense, but that's what women do. Unless you think liquor neat tastes good. Then by all means.
3a) All liquor is pretty much the same strength. Unless you drinking in the above/below 80 proof club, all that other shit is the same. It will get you equally tore down. This is for the long island ice tea crew. What your saying is that is gets you wet, in relation to the taste it has. I addressed taste in 2a.
What you drink, like alot of things, says alot about you to the world, whether what's being said is true or not. I went to the bar the other day, and ordered a Dewar's. The bartender commented "now that's a gentleman's drink." I didn't order it because I thought she would say that, but it didn't hurt. It's better than her thinking "me and my girlfriends love that drink!" or "I wonder if he's gay." That means no Apple Martini's. No Sex on the Beach (I mean, that should go without saying). Named drinks that don't mention the liquor in the name are borderline. I mean, there are decent drinks that fit into this category...Manhattans, Tom Collins'. But you don't drink that. You drink RedHeaded Sluts. You can't drink RedHeaded Sluts.

F)
There is no right reason for a man to have a ring in his mouth, or have a "man-bag". I had sandals on the list too, but I realize that that is a matter of preference. But the mouth ring and man-purse (otherwise known as the Shameful Murse) simply wrong. I always thought men did it for women. I heard the defense countless times that they didn't do it for women, they did it because they wanted to, which is true. They wanted to do it cause they thought women would like it. But if they was ever a wrong reason to do something, it would be to impress the herd of she-beasts who like tongue rings.

G)
Old white women waitresses are generally the best waitresses. I think its because 1) There are super motherly, and call you sweet shit like honey, baby, sweetypie, hon, and are patient and smile and all that 2) They come from a blue-collar background. Even though they may have come up in a situation where the world nigger was slung around reckless, like it or not, most black people have more in common with blue collar whites than upper-middle class or rich white and black people. She's old enough to have seen enough of this life not to care about all that. She just wants to take care of you. I think once the maternal instinct is turned on, then its no turning it off. That's why most mommas can't wait to become grandma (unless they are ducking getting old, and that something else entirely). Maybe old black women too, but I've seen more old white women waitresses.

H)
Your talking to a girl and she gets to jamming on some dude that she's dealing with. Or just talking about a dude she's dealing with. You cannot ever starting downing that man in attempts to either make yourself look better, or take that man's spot. You know you've traveled into the far country if anywhere in your conversation you have said:

1)"i would never do that to you."

2)"you deserve better than that." Cause number 1 and worse is only a phone call away.

She knows you wouldn't do that to her. And as far-fetched as it sounds, she knows she deserves better. And she's still dealing with someone else and not you. The reiteration of those facts is just redundant. And say it does work, and she deals with you because of those two things. Is that how you want your relationship to start, by saving? Cause if that's the case, then get some extra capes and tights cause your going to be saving this girl alot.
If you can't have her simply on the strength of your own merits, then it's time to cash in your hope chips buddy. Everything isn't fair in love and war. Remember, the destination is important, but so is the road you took to get there.

I)
When I hear a woman is "sexually liberated", I just think she's a freak. All the additional rap about finding your sexual identity, being emancipated from the notions conceived by men and placed on women like the shackles of slavery all sounds like bullshit, cause it is bullshit, and I take it a sign of disrespect. If you told me that you had a rough childhood, looking for love in all the wrong places, then i can understand. i really do. but to give it a slick name and ride it out?

Do I look stupid? Do I have a "Dumb Nigger: Will Fall for Anything" shirt on?

I start looking around the room at things that I have put my mouth near, and hope you didn't do the same. Then I think, "man, I hope I don't end up with something like this as a wife. Or a mother to my kids." And then I follow that up with a prayer for the same.

there there.

Every so often, I look at the obituararies in the newspaper. I always pause when i see "198x-200x". Always. I look and I stare at the notice because no matter what the X is, that person is around my age, and is no longer here. You see alot of those dates when you look at the war casualties.



I went out on a scotch adventure with one of my homeboys. We were talking about relationships, specifically his relationship with his girlfriend He told me that love is a blessing, no matter what form it comes in. When you have it, cherish it. If you think you can have it with someone, take the shot. God doesn't send you too many true chances at having it.



"With people who give a lot of themselves to the world, they need that one person who gives to them. And it’s more important than anyone realizes. I know we're supposed to get all we need from God, and I do, but it means something else when a person, as flawed, frail and weak as I am makes the sacrifice to give to me."

I wrote that to a friend of mine awhile ago, about myself. What I now realize is that everyone gives alot of themselves to the world. Everyone needs that kind of sacrifice from someone. It's the definition of love.

_______________________________________________________________________________________



I woke up this morning thinking about those three things. One after the other, over and over again. I knew they were linked, but I couldn't see how, because seeing how they were linked would make me look at myself a little differently. It would change what I once thought was a fact of life as it related to me. Those three ideas, in a distilled form look like this:



1) People die all the time, way before they or anyone else thought it was time for them to do so.
2) You don't get many chances at true love.
3) We need to be loved by someone other than a person we are related to, or God. Because it means more.

It's the truth. No matter how it sounds, it's all true. You don't have to look far for the confirmation. We all know someone whose death made us question our own mortality. We all know how elusive rocking-chair love can seem. And we all know it different it feels to have someone, for absolutely no good, logical reason give us a piece of themselves, a piece no one else has. That no matter the weather, they will never swap us out.

For a long, long time, I thought I was entitled to the last one. Number 3. Entitled to it because I tried to be a good son, brother, friend, cousin, man, person. Entitled to it because I like to write, and have a true deep appreciation for good food, music and scotch. Because I like to write. Because I was too good for the psuedo social networks of facebook and myspace. Because I'm loyal and love god. I think alot of people spend their lives thinking that number 3 is going to be there for them when they decide because they deserve it, for a number of reasons. Sure, their reasons will be different than mine, but I think we all have reasons nonetheless.

All of those things about me are true. But all it means is just that. Those things make up who I am. It makes me no more entitled to Number 3 than being named Michael Singleton.
Because of Number 1 and Number 2.

I can die whenever. There is a plan for my life, but I have no idea what it is. By getting close to the one who made me, I can know what road I should follow, but I will never have any idea of when that road will end. None of us do. God doesn't not promise you old age. God does promise you that one day, you will die.
You will not meet many people in this life that you will actually get to know. Even fewer will become your friends, even fewer still will become your friends for a lifetime. Now add the fact that this person will be of the opposite sex. And you have to be attracted to them. What are the odds of many of those coming down the pipe?

You are not entitled to true love. You may deserve it, but sad to say no matter how much you believe that, life is not listening. There is no guarantee that you will have it, even if you are blessed to enter the winter of your life. I don't say this to depress you, but to sober you up. Smelling salts of sorts. When you have a chance at it, take it. Now, this isn't to say that you throw yourself under the bus with every oppositely charged individual to whom you are attracted to and who shows reciprocal interest. I don't know with whom you should try with. But I do know that inside, you know. You know who would be worth it. Sometimes it's immediate, sometimes it takes a leap of faith. But if it all ends up at happy, does it matter how it started?

I think about the end of my life, well, the end that i want. Sitting out on the wraparound porch, rocking chair, looking out at the Singleton homestead. Thinking about the life I have led. My thoughts of my success, my loves, my cherished moments eventually lead me to my regrets, my dissapointments, my failures. I fix my stare into the distance, hoping that if I keep still, the oncoming storm won't find me. Keep my eyes still, and the flood behind my eyes will be contained.

but you can't stop what's coming. 

Only one voice can steady me during this oncoming storm. Only one touch can help me lean into the wind, stand the rain and the not fear the thunder. Only one person, by my side.

i'm here. always have, always been. it's getting dark, but i'm here.

That's worth trying for.

an outlaw and a runaway.

"there's always sombody knows where you're at knows where and why. for the most part.

are you talkin about god?

no. i'm talkin about you.

she ate. well, she said you'd be in fix if you didn't know where you was at.

i don't know. would you?

i don't know.

suppose you was someplace that you didn't know where it was. the real thing you wouldn't know was where someplace else was. or how far it was. it wouldn't change nothin about where you was at.

she thought about that. i try not to think about stuff like that, she said.

you think when you get to california you'll kind of start over.

them's my intentions.

i think maybe that's the point. there's a road goin to california and there's one comin back. but the best way would be just to show up there.

show up there.

yeah.

you mean and not know how you got there?

yeah.

i don't know how you'd do that.

i don't either.

that's the point.

She looked at him. I guess I aint sure what the point is, she said.

the point is there aint no point.

no. I mean what you said. about knowing where you are.

he looked at her. after a while he said: it's not about knowin where you are. it's about thinking you got there without takin anything with you. your notions about starting over. or anybody's. you don't start over. that's what it's about. ever step you take is forever. you can't make it go away. none of it. you understand what i'm sayin?

i think so.

i know you dont but let me try it one more time. you think when you wake up in the mornin yesterday dont count. but yesterday is all that does count. what else is there? your life is made out of the days its made out of. nothin else. you might think you could run away and change your name and I don't know what all. start over. and then one morning you wake up and look up at the ceilin and guess who's layin there?

She nodded.

you understand what I'm sayin?

i understand that. i been there before."

-no country for old men

that oberlin sh*t.

(i will apologize beforehand for this. i'm not doing this to put anyone outthere, hence why i didn't use any names. sorry to make you into a story. i'm lying, i'm not sorry, but know its not done with malicious intent. well, maybe some. yes i am a bastard. yes i am.)

i wrote a friend of mine an e-mail, where i asked her a question:

"are father's stronger than the childless man?". simple enough i thought. nothing much to read into, or so i thought.

the response: "define father."

okay, wasn't quite expecting that. i exhaled

(here we go)

and even though didn't want to, i started to type out my definition of father. but before i could finish, i got another e-mail.

"even before you answer my other email. i must say i dont like that question. i've pondered. i have no clue where you're going with that question but i feel as if it shouldn't matter whose stronger."

what?
see...that's that oberlin shit.

my first crack at higher education came at oberlin college. beautiful campus, hyper-intelligent students, dedicated staff. i learned a lot about a lot at that place. a lot about people. about how people take things, and themselves, far too seriously. back home, i could say something, and i know i would get a normal response.
my pops died. i told my man ronald. he replied:

"damn. that's fu*ked up."

see? see how simple that was? how something so complex didn't necessarily require a complex response. just a honest one. that's what i was used to, that's what i grew up with. that's what i respect. oh how did all that change when i went to oberlin. now everything was a debate. everything was thoroughly examined. everything was scrutinized and mulled over, everything became a damn dissertation. i walked into a extentialist nightmare's nightmare. it was like talking to a film student about magnolia, or a english major about that dumb ass poem about the red wagon.

what you mean by 'black'? when you say 'man', what are you implying? when you said that her name was 'pretty', were you making the inference that she identified as a woman?

if it wasn't that, then it was people taking offense to everything in the world. i remember one time this white girl made these flyers to promote a party she was having at little dance hall on campus. on the flyer, there was an old time drawing of a man dancing with a girl, i think. the man looked chinese to me. to everyone else, he was a minstrel. they made a big deal about that. they had a damn sit-in.

basically you couldn't say anything with either someone breaking the shit down like a lego castle, or getting indignantly pissed about it. and people were so proud to be this way. of course, nobody said it outright, but they thought of themselves as intellectuals, progressive. liberal. cognizant. people aren't supposed to be that way outright. you need balance. think about life, but don't drown life in the sea of your thoughts, realization, pondering and the like. you think your way out of enjoying what life has offered you because your thinking about being offended, or offended by your thoughts. nothing meaningful ever gets done. and i mean rocking chair meaningful. sitting in a rocking chair, knocking on heavens door, and you can think about it, and it still means something good to you. whether it be a action, or a conversation.

(you will have played the game of life and lost.)
you have taken the human element out of living. the simplicity of being human, one of the foundations being simple, normal conversation. on the inside, we love it. we need it. look at the movie that won the oscar for best picture this year. no country for old men.

simple conversation. read the book. plain talk. yeah, the characters were "complex", but so is everyone whom god gave breath.

the question i asked my friend, about stronger daddies came from me and my homeboys talking about "daddy strength". how when you get grown, you get a little stronger, esp. when you need to put the big hand on one of these young boys that will come eventually visit your future daughter. shake his hand, and let him know that your daddy out here. that was it. nothing more, nothing less. i didn't want to define father, or to be asked to define father. i didn't want my question jammed on with no explanation. i didn't want that oberlin shit. but that's what i got.

if i have been guilty of it, i am truly sorry. never again.

play your position. tragedy complete.

if you have ovaries, be a woman. testes? be a man. if not ruin and calmamity will soon follow.
the reality of it is that there are plenty of things as a man i could do. may even want to do. but cannot do. its the charge of sacrifice you make when you take the title. you should not be able to do whatever your hearts desire. it is the reason why god gave you parents. guides to help you do what you should, not want always want you want, and not definately doing everything you could do.

well, i can hear...i'm grown. i can do what i want, as long as its not hurting anyone. aight, it may not have drawn blood, maimed or disfigured, but depending on your actions, you could be hurting plenty, the ranks often filled with those whom you love.

you ever seen smokin' aces? saw that .5O cal snatching the soul out of people through the window? yeah, thats you, no army gun.

i remember talking to a young woman. she told me that she should be able to do whatever she wants sexually, as long as she's safe.
actually she said this: "when i want some dick, i get some dick."

to her i said this:

what would your daddy say? how would that make him feel? how would he look at you?

"my father is very proud of me." yeah, let me tell you something. that's bullshit. maybe if it doesn't know that you said the words "dicked down" out of your mouth. maybe. but if he knows that your out here catching penis like the plague, he is far from proud.

he feels like a failure. i know i would. his one hope is that through it all, he can love and provide you to womanhood. and no matter how you explain it, women don't carry themselves like that.

damn feeling like a failure, he has failed. and your not hurting who?

men, i would be remiss to leave you out. i saw a young man acting a savage. running through this young woman's life snatching anything that wasn't nailed down. her money, her mind, her body. and he was so proud. so proud. provider and protector turned maligner and molester. another failed father. you would hope that men see their mother in the women in their lives. that the some semblance of respect you show for the woman whom birthed you would transfer to the woman who could potentially birth the legacy of you both. guess she wasn't as lucky. 

men don't behave in that manner.

its not even that deep all of the time, you know? its also about the simple day to day actions that are being discarded. chivarly. support. nuturing. the whole nine.

inevitable oberlin question/comment:(voiced as if a black harvard professor with a white wife was speakng) "so what does it mean to 'be a man'? or to 'be a woman?', because gender roles were defined in the early creatatous period" "i think you are taking ...blah, blah who gives a shit. you know what it means to be both. you may go against it, but you know. if you don't, then nothing i am going to say is going to bring you back from the lands afar that you have traveled to. i don't have a map that detailed. no get back champ. settle up out there.

play your position. a tragedy in two parts.

You know why teams in general, are successful? Because they all have a position on the team. Everybody has a clear defined role, a role that they accept, and then they perform within the realm of that position. If they do that, then more likely than not, they are successful as a team. We've all been playing pickup ball at some point, and this 6'8 240 goofy bastard takes the inbound pass, and walks it down the court. He plays the perimeter, hoists threes, and call imaginary plays through a series of hand gestures. It's ugly, its frustrating, and more importantly, it's senseless. All in your mind your yelling "Get your big ass on the block and post something up! Punk ass nigga." He can do more on the block to help ya'll win.It's not arbitrary, he's tall. He's closer to the basket. He clogs up the lane. He deters shots. He has the skill set to be effective in the post.

In life, we all have positions to play, men and women, and problems begin when those positions are not played.

Let me say this first. Fellas, we dropped the rock. We stepped down from role of leadership and provision, and both of those abhor a vaccum. Someone has to fill the role of Captain in order for this ship to sail to the land of milk and honey. Women filled the role. I don't know when it happened, I am not a sociologist or a historian, and in this instance, I don't have to try. It happened, I do know that much. Men started thinking it was acceptable to not help raise his children, provide for his family, protect his loved ones. I mean, dudes stopped paying for meals man. Not even a pump fake to the pocket. Doors weren't opened, parents weren't met...rules weren't followed. In short, we shirked our responsibilities as men. I know. I see it even now. I speak up to it to every man I know, peer, old or young. I live my life as an example of how I was taught to be a man. I'm not perfect, but I'm trying hard, and I'm making sure every man around me is trying as well. And shit, we're lightweight succeeding. There still work to be done, but we're on the rails, going down the track.

But...women. Damn.

Men and women are created equal. I do believe that. But not equal to do every thing.

If i was sick, super down bad, and most girls who were around me who had love for singleton, their natural inclination would be to nurse me back to health. Take care of me. Nuture me. That maternal instinct. Instinct. No one has to teach you instinct, that came on your bill of sale fresh out of heaven, and out your momma's womb. It's in you, and aint no earthly person put it there. If we went out to eat, and we were walking on the street, my natural inclination is to protect you. Scan the street for threats, walk on the street side so I can get clipped by the reckless driver. Give you my jacket if its cold. It comes naturally to me. I gotta get you home in the same shape I got you, no worse for wear.

It's how we're built. If my cousin came and seen me throwing up cause my stomach was on tilt, he would look at me, shake his head, and ask can get me something. That dude would not be putting cold cloths on my forhead, and spoonfeeding me medicine. Wouldn't even occur to him. (and lets thank the sweet lord for that). You, as a woman, really aint cut out to do everything I can do. And neither am I cut out to do everything you can do. Nor do I desire to. When men do, well. You ever seen Project Runway? But because we dropped the reins, and now ya'll picked them up...ya'll are loving it.

You looked around at what men had, and chased it to have it, with no thought on whether you should have it. Playing all out of position. And us both, men and women, playing whatever position our hearts desired has gotten us here.