Post IX

June 14^th – 22^nd Addendum

I didn’t do a whole lot of writing during this period because I was working my ass off.  My week went like this.  On the 16^th I began working at the treatment center/group home, it was a Thursday.  I found out I would be working Thursday through Monday, with Tuesday and Wednesday off.  I was super glad that they started me working that soon; I also found out that my first check would be for 6 days and I’d be paid on the 1^st of July—everything was right on time.

I also was working at the temp job holding the sign outside.  I couldn’t quit just yet; one I needed the money and two, I felt loyal to them—even though the money sucked, they were the 1^st to employ me, and give me steady funds.  I was also going to the school here and there helping out, and getting the school ready for next year.

So I would wake up at 5:30 and go to the school, work there until it was either 10am or early afternoon (depending on the day) and go to a job, work it, get off, and come back to the shelter.  The shelter was good, because I had a wake up call, the only bad thing was on most days, I didn’t get in until around 1, or 1:15am, and then get up at 5:30. 

But it was cool; I was workin’, and had money to pay bills.  (Did I mention that I had to pay to stay at the shelter??)  Yea, it was called a “working man’s shelter”, so I was paying $56 a week to stay there.  Now some will say that I was butt-ball crazy to be staying at a shelter and paying to stay there, however there is not a hotel that I know of in the city of Denver or Aurora that I could live at for $56 a week—with meals included.  That is the double standard when it comes to how society still views gender issues.  I am not sure if women have to pay (probably not) to stay at a shelter, but for men, we have to pay.  As a man it is still expected that you are a man, and you fend for yourself, the state will help, but it is really up to you to make it happen.  With women, because of children (I guess) they are given more breaks when it comes to “pulling yourself up with your bootstraps”.  Now I’m not trying to gender bash, but in a so-called equal society, a shelter should be free for all, or all should have to pay.  But I guess Obama and the g-o-v’-t  still have to work on that one.

So I was busting tail, getting a check on Fridays from the temp job, (finally got my 1^st two checks on June 17^th).  I had been broke, but somehow I made it.  I wasn’t really keeping up with my journal, because I was learning the system with the new job, meeting the kids, working with them, and trying to rest when I could.  The next journal entry listed is the 22^nd of June, and it’s short, but from there the journey hits a snag, then a needle and thread is presented to me, so here’s the entry from the 22^nd. 

6/22/2011 @ 7:49am

Woke up today feeling very uneasy.  Had a dream last night that really scared me.  It was Vonne (my ex-girl-friend from Atlanta) frying pork chops in the kitchen at the old house (in Omaha, NE).  And my mother was there, she looked good, was moving good, and I think was in good spirits.  Sammi, Vonne’s daughter wanted to come in through the basement garage, but the garage was broken and I could see over the top, like it was jammed down at the bottom.  I told her to go around to the side door.  Then the water man came out, I greeted him at the driveway and had a pleasant conversation, even though the water was supposed to be cut off.  I went back into the kitchen through the side door, and Vonne was gone, and the kitchen was cleaned like no one had been there.  The dream woke me up shortly before 5:30….I was craving a cigarette.  This was a weird dream, and it has kind of put me on edge for the day.  I ask the Most High for much guidance today, as I am not feeling too good about the beginning of the day.

Addendum Cont.

I didn’t know what this dream meant at the time, however, I have theories now, that it’s all passed, and will come back to my theories.  However, the day went cool, the week went fine, and I hadn’t even talked to Vonne—the whole dream was just weird.  It scared me because I hadn’t dreamed of my mother since she passed, and seeing her like well, and walking around was like a good thing, but bad, because she was real sick before she passed.  Also dreaming about the house I’d lost just tore me to pieces.  Even now, roughly a month after it, it’s hard to write about it.  I remember that dream vividly, and I recognize the power of dreams, and I remember the power of that particular one.  It just hit me hard—I think one of the hardest things was that I had it at the shelter, and I damn near fell off the top bunk.

But that was the writing for that small time period.  The next part of the journey will be picked up a few days later, and that’s where the journey gets real interesting.  So stay tuned, the next posting will be dated from the 29^th, but we’ll visit the 25^th-the 29^th, because a lot happens to me in those 4 days….

Post VIII (Addendum)

6/14 Addendum

This will be an inserted posting, not from actual diary entries, (as they are) but something that has been updated from memory, because I didn’t actually write this one down when it happened.

On the 14^th of June, I pulled into the job site where I worked as a sign holder.  I was feeling pretty good, a bit worried about my car, but good nonetheless.  I was still at the shelter, but I had a job, and was waiting to hear back from either the liquor store or the youth girls’ treatment center/group home.

As I got out my car and was searching through the trunk to get my hat, I got a call—the treatment center/group home offered me a job!!  I was tired from the day before and was feeling broke because of the money situation, but I knew I had crossed a bridge.  This job was full time paying twice as much as what I was working for.  Also I would be back in the field of working with youth, and that was/is so important to me.  And the huge bonus about it was I would be getting the hell out that hot ass sun!! (lol)

I remember the HR rep, (whose name escapes me now) was on the phone asking me if I was excited, I was too tired to yell and whoop around, but I did let her know that I was elated and excited.  I was trippin’ because I thought I had messed up the job because I told her that I was homeless--but I guess the honesty worked to my advantage.  So I was good at this point, I could work both jobs with no issue, and I was already thinking: now I can go apartment hunting and get my mind to upward motion.

See the temp. job holding the sign would be ending in July, I would be starting the job at the treatment center/group home in two days, and I was making plans on teaching at the school in the 5 Points area.  My plate was getting full, and all the food on the plate looked delicious!  I only had to wait for the paydays. 

The other thing that I tripped off of was that it was June 14^th, it was exactly 7 days from when I interviewed, and I had interviewed on the 7^th……is it just me or do we see the Most High workin’ through the numbers…I’m just sayin’….Give Thanks!! 

I didn’t quit my temp job, why should I—I had to keep making money and I was getting paid every week. I was blessed, supported by the Most High, and happy in my new grounds…June was peaking for me!!  I had only been in Denver for a little over 4 weeks, and in that time, I didn’t become a world-renown poet, but I made a couple bucks; I became homeless, but kept my head, and was working through it; and now I had two jobs.   I began to feel like I could make it here, I had support here, not only financially but through a strong African-centered community, and I was regaining my mental health.  This day I knew, I would stay in Denver, it was official; Denver had earned a new resident!

Post VII

6/13/2011

Don’t know if it was a full moon, or should have been a Friday the 13^th—but whatever it was, I was doin’ butt ball bad today.  And for Today—I Give Thanks.  I asked the Most High for some finances, and they were given, just not in the form I really needed it—and I still Give Thanks.

Today I learned I put my time in wrong and won’t be paid until Friday—shit!  I was so low on gas, so when I found out about the money, I didn’t even bother going to work—it would have been a waste.  (It would have been like trying to make a round-trip on one way gas).   I made two calls, one to the bank, and the other to the job.  I already had $25 coming from the bank because I thought cashing the check might be an issue.  I knew I needed gas money, however as of right now (6/13/2011 @ 8:57pm) ain’t nothin’ came through.  Therefore, I have requested the last $75 out of my savings account—something has to give by tomorrow in the AM.  Right now, I have $2 to my name, and the gas is one “E”

The good thing about the day though was my ex finally did come through with some money—she paid my phone bill.  That was a blessing because the phone was about to be shut off, at 6pm tonight.  Originally she was going to money-gram me some loot, but the loot went to the phone bill—that’s cool.

Before all that got settled though, I went to the little laundromat to wash some clothes.  They were in bad need of a washing because this past weekend I had gone camping with my brotha, and the 5 Points Conscious Community.  And camping was what a brotha needed.  It was real peace.  I felt stressed at times because I couldn’t contribute financially, but they welcomed me as usual, and gave me that feeling of community and love that a brotha desperately needs.  In any case, as I was waiting for the laundromat to open, I had gone online to check on my hours, and put in my time for the week.  It was then that I noticed that my first weeks’ time was not there. 

*************************************************************************************

(Addendum)

The day was completely frantic, but I made it through.  Like I said earlier, my ex did come through and pay my phone bill, so that was good.  I was beyond broke at the end of the day.  However, the next day some money did drop down from my savings account and into the bank card that I had.  And when I got back to the shelter, the brothas were very supportive and uplifting.  That is the thing about being flat on your back; there are others there who are there with you.

 The only thing that I can really compare it to is being on a slave ship.  If one has ever seen the picture of all the Africans on the ship, there are strapped down flat on their back; above them—more Africans, below them—more African, on the side—more Africans.  It is no wonder that we made it through the middle passage; we had each other, literally surrounded by another African.  That is how the day felt, on a ship filled with shit, but I was surrounded by support, and from that support, I made it through that day.

Post VI

6-8-11

Give Praise and Blessings to the Most High, for it is That Spirit, who has brought me this far.  Yesterday was a good day, and so was today.  Yesterday (6/7/11) was my day for interviews.  I had one with Argaunaut Liquor store, and a second with treatment center/group Home for Girls.  I got up early, and abandoned my routine to prepare for my day.  I had ironed a shirt and khaki’s, and brought out the tie to boot, so I was up, ready, and in good spirits.

So the first interview was with the liquor store.  I was so over-prepared, that I was about 45 minutes early.  However, it was to my advantage.  I got to the store, went in and asked for the manager who I was supposed to interview with.  He was kind of busy, but I only waited a few minutes.  We had a on the spot kind of interview because I got to the point and let him know that I had a second interview right after that one.  I informed him I was currently working at a temp agency, and that the other job I was interviewing for was an evening/night weekend type position.  He said we might be able to work out a part time schedule, because he was looking for someone to be able to work evenings.  I let him know that I would have two days off; currently Fridays and Saturdays, however in the future, hopefully it would be a Monday, and Tuesdays.  He seemed real cool, with the situation, and told me to get back with him when I had something more concrete to tell him.  I felt that was cool because I would need a second job, with whatever situation I had.  So the exchange only lasted about 15 minutes, and I hit the road earlier than expected, but that was good.

For the second interview, I go out 25 South to Aurora, and Give Thanks to the Most High because my radiator held out; I’d put some water in it so that when it leaked it would still have fluid.  So I get to my exit and go the wrong way, but it was cool, because I had some extra time.  Long story short, I get to the treatment center/group home about 30 minutes early.  That proved to be a good thing because they had me write an essay about my strengths and weaknesses.  So I did that, and the lady comes and gets me.  I’m feeling confident and nervous at the same time, but my spirit was full!

So we chat as bit, I’m being pretty open and friendly.  She lays into the questions, and the first answer must have hit her pretty strong because she didn’t do a lot of writing, but just sort of looked at me as I talked and explained my answer.  It was cool, and I was doing well until I got real honest with her and told her about my current situation.  Now I don’t think she had an issue with me being homeless or anything like that, but she felt that I was flaky for leaving Omaha, and coming to Denver with no job, family, or support system.  She said that she has kids and wouldn’t be able to do something like that—hopefully she can understand that I’m a man with no kids, and I enjoy the journey of life because my belief in The Most High is strong.  She did say that she would do a background check; I told her about the DUI and the weed possessions—that’s being very honest….there’s nothing else besides the hospital, and that didn’t really involve the cops.  I also called her today and gave her Ms. Stark’s extension; so hopefully, the Most High will bless me with this continuation in working with “troubled” youth.

As I left Aurora, I felt good, I didn’t have anywhere to go, but I felt good.  It was beginning to get warm and I needed a place to park my car.  It took me a minute, but I decided to go to the park I had found in the Five Points area.  

 Now this is how beautiful the Most High works.  As I get to the intersection of the park, I see this brotha I met a few weeks back at the Block Party, and he’s got this line of like 40 kids with him.  I didn’t know what was going on, but I had decided that I was going to help that brotha with those kids.  I parked and followed them to the middle of the park, where I come to find out, the community of people I had met and been connecting with, had a school in the area, and it was the school’s field day.  So there were volunteer parents out there, tons of kids, the teachers, and the principal.  It was a beautiful, beautiful event.  I see the brotha who introduced me to the community, and I felt welcomed, and began to pitch in where I could.  The funny thing was I had been looking for the school and wanting to get some information on it, and boom—I landed in their lap.  I got a good chance throughout the afternoon and evening to chop it up with the principal who is an amazing brotha, a big brotha, and amazing—made me proud to be a Black Man again.  So I helped cook and serve, watched some of the events and got to meet some of the parents, community people, kids, and all that—I had such a great time! 

The even more amazing thing was I got a chance to go to the school this morning and do some more interaction.  It’s the last week of school, and I’m a bit late, but now I know, for the next couple of days, I got a new schedule—get up, and be at that school at 7am.  So I’m feeling really blessed right now.  My day has been full, my spirit blessed.  I’ve been invited to go camping this weekend.  I am a little bit nervous about it, because it seems like a family kind of thing, and I’m like an odd-ball out, but I'm going to stick my neck on out there and get it done.  I get paid on Friday, my bills here at the shelter are taken care of ….I got a half tank of gas to last one more day and a morning, and from there I just have to be in go mode.  But it will feel nice to like get away, be with some like-minded folks and spend some time.  So I’m looking forward to the continued adventure of life—Giving Thanks to the Most High, praising The Spirit that has brought me here, trying to be a good student and follow the path that is before me.

Post V (6/5/11 Weekend Con't/ People's Fair & Drumming Circle& pics)

 This is a continuation from Post IV, so if you get confused, just read the previous post!

Saturday (6/4/11)

A whole new day.  Today was the day for the Peoples Fair, and another opportunity to sell some cd’s.  Mary from Bayard had invited me, which again was a big Blessing. 

Now check this.  I was at the laundry matt early in the morning because they wake us at 5:30 and we gotta be gone by like 8 or something.  So I’m at the matt hecka early washin’ a load, burnin’ cds, and transposin’ a poem from audio to paper, because my memory is shot.  Anyway, I step outside to smoke a square and rehearse a few pieces in the parking lot.  I’m in my zone reciting this new piece I had found and been working on.  And there’s this cat, Ivan/Tragic who is there smoking a square as well.  Now what trips me out is that he’s listening, but I don’t even know he is.  I butchered the end of the poem, but he says, “that was deep as hell man, I ain’t heard no shit like that in a minuete.”   So we get to choppin’ it up and he tells me his story about how he is an ex-banger/dealer who now does motivational speaking.  Tragic is a good dude from what I gathered.  I got his number and will probably hit him up sometime this week to see what the business is.  It just tripped me out, because I never got a compliment like that off some humbug shit—Denver is nuts, I love it!!

So I got all my cd’s ready and headed to the fair.  Now the fair was cool, found Mary and the booth with no problem, hell Mary even bought me lunch—it’s a reason she’s named Mary…lol.  But anyway, the fair was packed, and once again, I was feeling nervous as hell.  See Mary had invited me to perform and do my thing, which was a blessing, but there was no mic, we were sandwiched between two stages, people would either be amazed, pay me no mind, or have me arrested….lol.  So I chill for a good bit, then tell Mary I’m going to go for a walk to calm myself.  I now know what a panic attack is all about…that stuff is scary when you’re sober.  I take a walk, talk to some people, smoke a square, get a bit of confidence about me, and head back to the table.  I tell Mary, I think it’s time to do some poetry—she supports me fully, I Love Me Some Mary!!!!!

I stepped to the front of the booth, and began to spit Acapella, during a quiet time between two stages.  People looked at me at first like I was crazy, but I persisted on.  (Hell, that ain’t the first time someone looked at me crazy—and I doubt it’ll be the last….lol)  So I kept performing, but people lost interest about a quarter of the way through.  It was cool though, I didn’t get any sales, but I did it.  I was brave enough to try it.  I kinda knew from walking around that it was the wrong environment, but I’m gaining my good craziness back—and that felt great!!  The other great thing that happened Saturday was, I went down to one of the music stages, and got a flyer from this guitarist.  Now dude was a artist so I hit him with my story and let him know that I got cd’s and the white brotha bought one.  That was PEACE!!!  It got me feeling good and stuff, so I did get some hope.  He said he would call me about maybe doing a show or something, but I haven’t heard from him, but its cool though—I give Thanks to The Most High for that!!!

I ended up leaving the fair, and hooking up with my God-send, her daughter, and her friends daughter.  We walked and talked  all up and down 16^th Street Mall.  We saw the musicians, got to know each other, and the Queen got herself and her daughter’s friend a journal.  It was a peace evening, a peace walk, and a peace time.

Now Saturday night I was pretty depressed and bummed out, but coming back to the shelter man, the brothas here uplifted me at dinner.  I have hooked up with some elder brothers who have been down some roads and been helpin' me out.  So when they saw me Saturday night, they just looked me out, and lifted my spirits.  So I was able to put the bad things in perspective and put stuff behind me.  I went to bed feeling pretty good about myself.

Sunday(6/5/11)

Now today was the last day of the People’s Fair, which to me was a bit of a bust financially, but other than that, it was a cool spot, good people (Mary, LaShawn, and the Bayard folks) and good music; plus it was free, so the Fair is all peace in my book.  So the plan for today was go to McDonald's to help one of the brothas out here, then hit the fair, then hit the 16^th Street Mall (to play sax, and maybe get some donations as a street artist) then go to the drumming circle at 5 points. 

The day started off well, got up got dressed, was running a bit late, but it was peace.  brotha out.  However, when I got there, he had already headed out—dern, sorry for him, but I had to keep it movin’.  It was around 7am when I got back to the shelter and saw my elder brother who was heading to a church to get some breakfast.  I wasn’t doing anything and had some time to kill so I walked with him (Hezikyha, I believe is his name) up to the church.  Now the great thing about this brotha, is that he is like me—he got a drinking problem.  The other great thing, is that he realizes it and is working hard as hell to stop.  Yesterday he went to a AA meeting, which was great, and today was like day 1 sober—he made it all the way through.  We walked and talked, saw some other brothas we knew from the shelter walking the opposite direction, and stopped and spoke.  My lil’ African brotha from Ethopia—Manny, was one, we finally exchanged numbers, then Hezikyha and I kept it moving.  We got to the church, ate, and then bounced.  I told him my next stop was the Fair, and he said he’d come down there with me. 

It was around 9ish, when I grabbed my sax and we headed down to the fair.  Now my elder brotha, is also a character, got the gift of gab like Jesus must have had.  We get to the fair grounds and he’s asking the event people about the hiring for clean up jobs.  It felt like we were talking a foreign language to the folks because they just didn’t get it, but we motivated on.  We were walking by this stage, where this gospel jazz band was getting ready to perform.  Now my elder brother being the kind of person he is, put me on out there, because the band was composed mainly of horns (trumpet, saxes, trombone and flute.)  Now this other elder brother Frederick who plays sax says, “lemme hear what you got man”.  So I’m all like, I don’t really play….blah, blah blah, but between Frederick and Hezikyha, I was made to pull out my sax and toot what little skills I got.  I don’t think Frederick was impressed or nothing, but the brotha gave me the opportunit1y and his number, so I’ll hit him up just to see.  We stayed to listen, and I mean those brothers got down!!  Brother Frederick said they didn’t do well because their heads wasn’t into it, but if you heard the performance they gave, the brothers were AWESOME!!!

After that we headed to the Bayard booth to see Mary and LaShawn.  Things were peace at the booth.  Hezikyha didn’t stay long, he introduced himself to Mary and stuff, but later he motivated on to continue his day.  I hung around at the Fair a little bit longer than originally planned, partly because I was scared to go down to 16^th street mall and toot the horn for pay.

See my God-send had suggested on Saturday, that I go to the mall and try spittin’ with some brothers who were drumming.  I actually ran into a brotha I met a few weeks earlier, at the mall on Saturday, and he put me up on game.  So when Sunday came, I was down for whatever.  Now when I left the fair and was headed down to the mall, I didn’t hear musicians like I had the day before.  However I was looking for a good spot.  I was told that I couldn’t stay in a spot for longer than an hour.  So I eventually found a spot, didn’t see any police, pulled out the horn and started to toot.  Man,  my opinion of my sound was that I did a terrible job….but I did it.  I actually had three people come by and hit me off.  I was scared and nervous as hell, but I did it.  I only stayed and played for about a hour, but I think I made just enough to get a pack of squares.  So yea, 16^th st mall, I will definitely be back.  I didn’t do any poetry, but the sax will be getting better, I plan on that.  I may not ever be a great street performer, or make enough to live off of it, but I feel comfortable enough to keep trying.  I saw some of the brothers I met here at the shelter, and they are so very encouraging, that is a wonderful thing.  I am humbled and honored that the Most High has put it on them to bless me in that way.  I know that all things are possible through the power of the Most High!!

So I packed up the sax and began to walk back up the mall.  I stopped to write some poetry, smoke a square and peep this performer who was made up to be a statue.  She was taking donations, and performing, but it was all makeup and standing—impersonation of a statue—it was dope, and she was getting mad donations!!  But a part of me thinks that we do this not really for the donations, we do it for our art man.  I also met a brotha who be-boxed for a quarter…he hit me with a dope beat-box, and I hit him with some change—gotta support hip hop.  I hit the statue impersonator with something too.  So yea 16^th St. Mall is cool….I just gotta keep my eyes open for the cops, so they won’t mess with me, brotha don’t wanna get a ticket.

As I was heading out, I hooked up with another shelter brother who plays piano.  See Denver has these pianos up and down the mall that anyone can stop and play.  So we stopped by this white guy that was playing, and chatted with him for a bit.  Now the white boy was good, my brotha from the shelter is good too, but not like the white boy….i don’t’ think.  Anyway, a couple came by and we had a niiiicccceee little conversation.  It was fun at this point, my fear, and anxiety was gone, I did what I had to do, and wanted to do—I was peace.  So I chatted it up for a bit, then headed to 5 Points for the drumming circle.

Now the drumming circle at 5 Points is peace, because it reminds me a lot of Auburn Ave., in Atlanta.  All my peoples were there, and they’re nice, welcoming, and have food—praise the Most High.  The last time I attended the circle, I played bones mostly and pinged a bit on the xylophone.  However, today, I jumped on it, grabbed a drum and did my thing.  This was the 1^st time I’d ever drummed before in my life.  It was fun fun fun!!!!  My hand hurts a bit, but I think I drummed better than I played the sax….lol. But as always the circle was good….reconnected with some kings and queens from the community, so it was peace as always—GIVE THANKS TO THE MOST HIGH FOR THE COMMUNITY!!!   And they had the beans….Now when I went last week, that was the 1^st experience I had with the beans, and they were bomb…this week no different….BOMB. 

And the drumming circle was dope.  The energy that I got from the circle was amazing.  The different rhythms, and connections, and ….. I can’t put it into words….you just need to come through 5 Points on a Sunday after 2pm and drum with us.

Its 12:25….and I’m getting sleepy.  This weekend was a roller-coaster….I climbed, I fell, and climbed again.  I give thanks for the weekend, it’s peaks, valleys, twists, turns and loops.  The Most High has watched over me with great kindness and caring.  I will continue to walk the path that The Most High has given to me, I will continue to Give Thanks, and spread the joy, knowledge, and understanding that the Most High provides me with. 

In ending, I Give Thanks, and will continue as long as the Most High provides breath….Give Thanks.

Drumming Circle Pics

Yes we get the kids in the drumming circle..it's all about family

See this is my definition of community, who says the brotha's don't work with the kids...c'mon people, we got positive blackness in Denver!!!

Post IV (Job, Life, Issue, Art from Ashes, & Pics!)

So around the 27th of May, things were bad, but they were on an up-swing.  I was living in a shelter, but I had also met and connected with this great Afrocentric community who was spiritually supporting me greatly.  My car was running ok, did not have any issues with police, or my car breaking down.  I had done two open mics, one profitable, the other a loss with the slam.  So poetically things were not looking good, but life-wise, things were ok.  I was going to Bayaud in the mornings with my laptop and applying for jobs.  On the 27th of May, which was a Friday, I got a call and job offer.  It wasn't much money, but it was more than nothing, so I had to take it.  I would be holding a sign for a sale that was happening in a strip mall...so I was homeless holding a sign for money.  It was ironic as hell, but I had to do what I had to do, lol

I was making mad connections.  Mary, the lady who was working with me at Bayaud was great and including me in a lot of stuff.  The people at the temp agency and job were cool too. (Shout out to Go-Lite clothing--my temp employer...lol!)  I was also working on getting better jobs, so my cellphone stayed by me like my skin.  And I was sticking close to my new community-family at 5 Points.  So this entry is dated 6/5, and it's long, so I'll break it down into separate posts, and lookout because there will be pictures!!...yaaaa

                                                                                                                                                                                                   6/5/11

Give Thanks to the Most High, for it is only through That Spirit, that all things are possible.  Today, was a good day.  The end of last week was pretty damn hard, a part of me might even say it was shitty, but I’ll stick with hard for now.  Wednesday and Thursday, got to me pretty tough.  Its hell when you’re  homeless, and the only job you have is literally holding a sign on the side of the road, for someone else…now that is the definition of ironic. 

Now Friday (6/3/11) was a kinda 50/50 day.  On one hand, I had my morning routine, of going to McDonald's down the street around 7am  (they wake us up at 5:30), then I head to Bayaurd, around 8am, talked to Mary, and then headed up the road 15 miles to the job site.  I was a little late, but they didn’t trip.  I was doing my routine, when I got a call from a lady at Vista.  Now Vista is a program similar to AmeriCorps, so I thought cool—this might work out to be in my favor. 

As the lady explained the program in detail, I got more excited, and at the same time, more disappointed.  Now I knew that the salary was only 420/every other week, what I did not know was I would be having “indirect” contact with the youth I was serving.  What this meant was that I would be assisting in creating programming for the youth, but I would not be “directly” delivering it.  Now that sounds all well and good, and I can deal with that aspect, but as I thought about it, that’s a higher level position.  So in my viewpoint, it should be paying a little bit more.  Then I thought about it a little bit more, and what didn’t make sense to me was, how could I help create programming for people I had never met.  I am used to tailor making programming for certain type students.  I adjusted my poetry workshop twice for different type students—one in a group home, the others in a maximum security prison.  Next I learned that they would not allow me to have a second job.  Now that stung, it stung like hell, because when I was in AmeriCorps, I worked two 10 hour shifts at IKON on Saturday and Sunday.  It was the only way I was making it through.  Next I considered the money.  It dawned on me—shit, I forgot about the garnishment that the IRS has on my wages from any job.  After the taxes and the garnishment, I would probably only come out with about 200 every other week, about 400 a month—that I couldn’t do, that is like the darn impossible.  So I had to pass on the job. 

So all this happened around my lunch hour.  Now also during this time, I was texting with the God-send/Queen my Oklahoma pat’na had put me in contact with.  She reminded me of First Friday in the Arts District and I could probably hustle some cd’s.  The only issue was I didn’t get off until 7, and the function would be crackin’ around 6.  So I had to make a decision.  The crazy part was that I actually was debating whether to stay on that corner and make money for the company, or take a chance, and hustle for myself.  It took me about 2 minuets to say fuck it, and jet from that corner.  I did tell the people a half ass truth—told them I had a show I forgot about—it wasn’t exactly a lie. 

So I leave about 5:30ish close to 6—and wouldn’t you know it, I get caught in traffic.  Now I was nervous, because it was warm, I wasn’t moving and was praying to The Most High that the radiator wouldn’t over-heat.  Praise to the Most High, I made it down to First Friday with no overheating—Praise to the about a week ago.  So it was mad cool!!!  Now I get there, and there’s like hella people there, which is great, but the bad thing was it was a visual art show—great paintings, bad spot for a poet.  L  But I did get to meet my God-send in person which was hella cool, because she looks great!!  Also she reminded me that Art from the Ashes might be doing an open mic for First Fridays which would be da bomb; and since it was only a few blocks up, I headed there with a bag of cd’s full of hope, but feeling shy as sin. 

So I get over to Art from the Ashes and wouldn’t you know, they had a band setting up.  Now this was bomb, because I had already made some contacts there about a week ago when I went in to perform my way to a independent contractor position.  So the mic was really open for their youth, but they said it would be cool if I performed.  They told me the band was going to perform first and then they’d do the open mic, so it was peace.  I muddled about inside where there was like some upscale developer doing a show with some wine, beer, and snootie-tootie types.  However, there was a visual artist also there, who was mad cool and she had a spread of cheese, dips, chips, and lemonade available for free—so I was in heaven!  I spoke with her and found out that she does therapy paintings for youth…which again, is bomb.  I wish I remembered the lady’s name; I’ll have to go back and update the blog.  So I bounce between her and outside, where there are some Art from the Ashes people setting up, playing, chillin’ and what-not.  I told them I would be back, and decided to go back around the corner until they got ready to do the open mic and stuff.  Plus I was feeling really nervous for some reason around all these cool, artist-poet types.

So I hit the corner and go back to the studio where my God-send is.  They got the DJ going, and the place is deep.  I decide to go outside to find Woogie, the dj, who like co-runs the studio and artist space.  He’s outside with this brotha, a Native chick, and her boyfriend.  Now Woogie, is a straight character, a good brotha, with the gift for gab, and he’s on one tellin’ this story and gettin’ these people hyped.  So I get the introductions—the brotha, that’s there, is a hip hop producer, the Native chick helps runs this pro-weed, education video site, and her boyfriend, I believe helped her with it, along with some other people.  Now at this point, I’m kinda trippin’ because I am like in complete shy mode, and I’m not tellin’ anyone that I’m a poet or have cd’s or nothing.  So I enter into the conversation and ask the folks what they do and what-not.  So of course I’m sittin’ by the cute Native chick and ask her, do they ever feature poets, or spoken word artist on her channel.  And she says yea, but the artist has to pay for the air time.  (I’m thinkin’ wow, that sounds like an Atlanta hustle, but it’s cool, I already know that game.)  So the Native chick asks me to spit, since I’m a poet, and I was more than happy to oblige, because that’s what I been wanting to do all night—showcase the skills to a captive audience.  So I hit them with Verse, and they dug the shit!!  A brotha was pretty relieved…..lol.  So I let her know I had cd’s and whatnot, but since she was in the same industry, I didn’t make a sale, but it was cool.  I also told them I was about to split because I was going to perform down the street.  They said they would come through since it was so close, we all exchanged numbers, and I hit the corner again to go down to Art from the Ashes. 

So I get back to Art from the Ashes and this short lady is performing,  I thought she was a kid at first, but listening to her piece, found out she’s 22.  Cool.  I’m listening to some good poetry, and ask the host would it be cool if I performed, he said yea, it’s cool.  So there’s like a small crowd, but they’re into it, so I’m cool.  Before I go on, this youth, don’t know how old he was, or remember his name, but he gets up there…..and BOY, HE SPIT HIS SOUL!!  The cat was hot, no joke….and I dig all types of poetry, but this brotha was mad nice.  Found out later that he was visiting from New Mexico, and he comes to Denver every now and then.  So I get up and spit….was hella nervous, and feelin’ shy, so I didn’t even let the small crowd know I had cds…yea, dummy move but cool.  I hit them with Verse because the people from the art studio wasn’t there, and I felt like doing that one.  I felt like the crowd felt that one….it was good!  I had finally done what I was suppose to do.  I got a couple compliments and told one person I had cd’s, but they didn’t get one; told me maybe next time….it was cool, I’m not trippin’.  But the good thing that happened was I chopped it up with the youngsta from New Mexico, and we connected on that old grizzly poet, young choppa poet kinda level, and that was PEACE.  Later I did see the Native chick and her boyfriend, they missed me, but it was cool, I was able to bring some people through “indirectly”….lol  So the host was dope, and he performed some great pieces as well.  So like the open mic had wound down, but the band had geared up and was inviting people to spit while they played.  They were trying like hell to pull me up, but I mean these cats were spittin’ like a hip hop cyper, and my poetry stuff, sometimes, just don’t measure up, so I played the backround.  Then  one of the Art from the Ashes cats pulled out a trumpet….that was it….I hit that mic.  I did Writer’s Block, kinda butchered it, but did it anyway….it was fun and cool.  The only thing was, I was broke, didn’t sell any cd’s and was getting’ down on myself.

This is where things got a bit crazy on the night.  So I’m tired, it’s past curfew for the shelter, and I’m worried that I may have to spend the night in the car—even though I didn’t smoke or drink—givin’ myself 30 days to clear the mind, body, and spirit.  I give thanks to my peoples from Art from the Ashes, and head back to the studio to tell my God-send and Woogie goodnight.  Now by this time the streets are FULL.  There’s cars everywhere, people all in the street, people performing in the street….it’s like a mini-festival, with maximum people.  And I’m buggin’ out, one because my shyness hit me in the head for the night, and I didn’t even ask people if they wanted a cd, second it’s like late as hell, and the  curfew thing got me going, third I wanted to stay and get some courage about myself, and fouth, I was hopin’ that my car would be able to get me home—radiator issue.  I get back to the studio, which is full, of course, tell Woogie, I gotta jet (there was a slight chance that if I stayed I could of gotten on the mic, but whateva), then I give Thanks and Blessings to my God-send and head out the door. 

Now at this time I’m gettin’ frazzled.  During the whole time, I’d been texting my ex (I know, I know mistake, but I’m learnin’)…..anyway…..she had been wishin’ me well, sendin’ me positive energy, the whole nine.  So she textes me, and ask if I made contacts—I said some good ones.  I get another text and she asks, did I sell any cd’s—I’m like no.  Now some people who know me, and I mean really know me, that my biggest stressor is Money…if I ain’t got it, I’m stressed the hell out….and at that point I was stressed the hell out!!  Therefore, by her askin’ me if I had sold anything just increased my stress, because I knew I could have done better, but didn’t.  So I’m driving back, stressed, half ass lost, almost out of squares, and on the verge of flippin’ the hell out, and throwin’ that damn cell phone out the window.  By the time I get back to the area where the shelter is, I’m in full blown stressed mode.  Folks are downtown drinkin’, partying, having a good time, etc.  I’m watchin’, stressed, ready to pop my top, but giving Thanks to the Most High for delivering me safely back to the spot with a faulty radiator—Give Thanks Most High!  So I park the car and walk down to the 7/11 because I feel it would be safer to walk.  All the while I’m textin’ my ex, and tellin’ her all this crazy shit because that’s where I was at that moment.  She’s like tellin’ me all the wrong stuff, and getting’ stressed out over me and my bullshit. 

I get into 7/11 and see that they have shots—I came in for a pack of squares, but they had shots—I got a pack of squares, and left, in a hurry.

We argue so much I just say fuck it, and stopped answering her texts and looking at them—I was hotter than a fire-cracker on the 4^th of July.  I get back to the shelter, and Thank the Most High, they didn’t trip.  I was cool on the night—no consequence, no problem—Most High blessed me again.  Mad stressed out, I smoke a few squares, give Thanks to the Most High, and crash out—I was done.

Pics from 1st Friday @ Art from the Ashes:

By the way, if you know any of these people, please let them know that I have posted their likeness....lol