© Dan-Sean Mankind 2010

Gargoyle on the facade of Grace Church in NYC.

I’ll say it and I’m not ashamed to either: I listened to Chris Brown’s new album Graffiti and bought it in support of the man’s art.  I’m a music lover and I have an ear for quality and for crap and you have to give credit where credit is due — the sh*t is FIRE!!

Alright, before you start slinging the domestic violence mud or question my solidarity to womanhood, girl power and the like, let me ask you a question:  When will the punishment fit the crime?  In no way am I defending his actions and being a woman who has been through a particularly vile domestic violence situation. I am empathetic to the pain and anguish his former flame endured, but at the same time I understand that a crime has a punishment and after the punishment is doled out, time is served and repentance and rehabilitation is evident — BOTH parties deserve the chance to start over.

I have fond memories of being a teaching artist in the public schools when Chris Brown’s first hit Run It exploded on the charts.  It was inspiring to watch my 5-10 year old students beam with excitement and anticipation for our dance & theater assemblies with choreographed dance steps to this song.  Watching parents approvingly bob their heads to the innocence of their kids dancing and singing every lyric word for word as if Chris was able to hear them through the speakers and nod his head in solidarity.  He was a babe and so were they.

Fast forward a few years and troublesome decisions on the way to manhood — grown up troubles follow.

Should a man ever put his hands on a woman? HELL NO. But people tend to conveinently forget the other side of that puzzle — a woman must never stoop to do the same.    I’m a news junkie and couldn’t help but watch the Chris Brown/Rihanna saga and shake my head in sadness of a dream defferred.  The potential heir to Michael Jackson’s legacy — youthful exhuberance, actual talent and personality rolled together in one package — gone like a magic trick and the media harpies greedily feasted over his fall and hoisted her up as the poster child for a second chance.  What about him?

We lap up hypocracy like ice cream hoisting honors upon her and leave him to the wolves when it takes two to create a situation as foul as theirs.  Two misguided young adults equally deservant of redemption.

I am the first to complain that that most popular music on the radio is crap — auto-tuned to death, talentless nobodies created by the studio machine, so the first chance to listen to actual creativity is a breath of fresh air.  Graffitti is definatley that.

Before you dismiss Chris Brown’s latest project as a waste, close your eyes and listen to the MUSIC.  It’s radio-worthy, fun and on top of that. . . it’s good!   Give the man a chance to prove himself as an entertainer and hope that this experience has started a personal evolution worth watching and rooting for.

Before you cast your stone, take a look in the mirror.

Chris, Take your time to shine —

By the time I woke up I was deep into a section of Brooklyn I had no business being in. Unaware of the stop I hopped off the train and decided to go above ground. I thought to catch a cab but quickly realized I had no money in my pocket. That blows. There was no ATM in sight. No bodega offering a bootleg ATM that would charge you $5 to remove $20. So instead of getting the train in the opposite direction I decided to walk.

The smart person I am, I charged my phone before I left the bar. Quickly, I clicked on the Google Maps app and found the best way to get to Atlantic Ave Station. I haven’t been to downtown Brooklyn in a while — not much has changed.

At 3am in the morning the platform was full of people.

Like a zealous New Yorker, I peered down the subway tunnel to see if an arriving train was anywhere in sight. It was not. Taking in my surroundings, I notice a woman kneeling down next to the edge of the platform. I wasn’t sure if she was fatigued from a long night or looking for something in her bag.

She then proceeded to get on all fours, maybe hoping that someone would show her where the wild goose goes. I wasn’t too sure, but I thought it was a great moment to pull out the camera.

You cannot pull out a camera on a subway platform without being noticed. Folks started moving towards me, curious about what motivated my shutterbug moment. We all stared at this woman getting close to the edge.

I’m not sure what was going through her mind. Maybe she thought her life was on the wrong track and needed to inspect it before getting back on the train. Or maybe it was so far off track that she thought to assume the position because her life is f*cked.

I only wonder if she had friends to help her through what would be later learned was a drunken stupor.

Am I the only one who forgot to vote today? I left out the house and wasn’t reminded to vote until I went through the turnstile. Unlike last year, there wasn’t much advertising done in the neighborhood.

After turning on the TV for the weather, you would think that someone would have mentioned something about voting this morning – that wasn’t the case. And now that I’m at work I’m contemplating leaving early to cast my vote.

But here is the deal: I really don’t know who I should vote for. Mike Bloomberg is running, again. Some people don’t care too much for him considering he had to change the law so he can vote again. And then you have Bill Thompson. I’m aware of this dude, but before the election, didn’t care who he was.

Bloomberg hasn’t done a bad job, all things considered. I’m sure some people would like a fresh start and may side with Thompson.

I still am unsure how to cast my vote.

1. When we first start off with his songs I think that he won’t be able to get through any songs, so I can see how he will end up lip syncing through the entire concert. He appears a little out of it — I cannot see him doing this for 50 shows, let alone 10.
2. At some point they go through the audition process and show how much Michael was involved in picking the principal dancers.
3. By the time we get to Human Nature Michael appears a lot more emotional. My friend thought that Michael might have forgotten the lines. I believe he is remembering something and is working through the pain of his own thoughts. Either way, it was the one time during the movie that I felt like I wanted to shed a tear. It was just a powerful moment — I could only imagine what he was feeling at that moment.
4. I Can’t Stop Loving You is one song I’ve always appreciated. I like Siedah Garrett and how she meshed with Michael. However, the backup singer, Judith Hill, who is paired with Michael leaves much to be desired. I’m sure she must be nervous and all but she needs to get over all that. Sing the damn song, shine.
5. You’ll laugh more than a few times during this movie. There is a point where Michael is talking to one of the musicians and dude tells MJ that a sound check is needed. Dude tells Michael that he wants it to sound the way he think Michael needs to hear it. Michael responds back with words that amount to “I want it to sound the way it was written to sound.” (not exact quote, but you have to see it to understand) Michael Jackson’s humor is in full swing, along with his talent.
6. It is clear that Michael knows what he wants in a show. When he points that finger with the tape on it in a particular direction or makes a movement in a particular way you better move, and you better know it’s for you. But by all means, please know that he is making that movement and giving you direction, “with love.” L-O-V-E
7. Words like ‘sizzle’ and ‘simmer’ take on a whole knew meaning. The director tried to correct Mike on a movement and Michael said that he wanted the moment to sizzle. He directed the band to take time and let the moment simmer. He commands the stage and rehearsals in such a way that you can only give him what he wants, creatively. It was great to see this side of him.
8. Michael comes off funny, caring, emotional — human.
9. No Moonwalk. What gives?

I need to cut this post short. It basically comes down to this… Michael Jackson, is a lot much older and a little more stiff than he used to be. However, the magic that he has always brought to the stage was still there. His passion for his craft, the genius that created the music, and the love of performing was clear and well represented. THIS IS IT is a concert I would have never seen in an arena, but if you ever liked to see Michael Jackson perform this movie isn’t to be missed.

He is so very French.  I’ve been a Francophile for as long as I can remember.  I love the sophistication of the sounds, how the words curl off my tongue and kiss my lips from the inside out – just mind blowing.  The only question left to answer was if he was just as loveable in person.  We agreed to meet on a snowy afternoon in Central Park.  If it was good, we could make snow angels; if it was bad, I could walk away with my pride intact and a butt-load of words for Mr. SUN-shine.

I came out of the train station and hurried over to the statue hoping that a pleasant surprise awaited me –

Hmmm, he’s probably not a mime; and if he was. . .  NEXT

Is he the one hawking the hot dogs? Or the one selling the over replicated photographs or did I just get stood up?  Hmmm – that mime is starting to look appetizing with his cute silver painted self. . .

My phone rings!

Him: I can see you

Okay (long breathe) – this is sounding like some true to life stalker type shit.  If I continue talking to him, I run the risk of being scooped up by a wacko –

But, I figured that if he was a friend of SUN-shine, he can’t be all that bad.

Me: Okay, how is it I can’t see you, but you can see me
Him: walk towards the corner and I’ll be waiting there
Me: Okay this sounds like some James Bond Type shit

Him: Maybe it is…

I walk toward the corner, still talking to him on the phone and a black car pulls up in front of me and he says “get in” – so I did.

Leaned back in all black, both the car and him — the neon lights sputtering from the stereo, he had to sweetest smile i’d ever seen.  Like the Cheshire grin, waiting to bust.  I was blown away by his innocence — more of a gentleness that lived inside his body.

We exchanges pleasantries and commented about the music on the radio and smiled.  He talked to me about working around surgical trays all day long and I told him a bit about me, more than I usually would – more than comfortable enough to make snow angels with him.

Month after month, I grew to get use to seeing him on Tuesdays and Fridays; talking to him about life, the struggles of raising his daughter from afar, the struggles of elder care, being the primary go-between doctors or supermarkets or any other need or want in his mother & grandmother’s life leaving only a sliver of time to smile for himself.  I found myself fighting an uphill battle.  As much as he seemed to want to see me, the heavier his burden became.  Phone calls became replaced with text messages – not so bad, at least he’s still communicating…

The thought of running for second behind mother and grandmother – if you put them together as a collective package, it wasn’t so bad.  Then he hit me with the daughter reality and as loving as I have the capacity to be, that’s a lot of women to have to satisfy.

I’m a chick! I finally admitted this to myself the other day when I looked at my painted toes in oohs and aahs — smiles ear to ear.  Us women, as much as we are nurturers and lovers, we need to be loved too — to feel wanted and valued. So at the pace I was running — with 30 pounds of baggage to have to rustle through to find the real him — he’d be old and gray before he would even have the time to look my way.  I want love like everybody else, but he isn’t worth that type of wait.

So the answer to the riddle — What comes after Bronze?

Patience.

P.S. and a good dildo. . . (LOL)

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