Black Writers Reunion & Conference
Dallas, Texas
July 15-16, 2006
Supa chronicles her life on Earth, and occasionaly spouts her musings via this blog. If you're offended by a potty mouth, go away. Supa curses an awful fucking lot. Welcome!
Supa Sister's Bio
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"Great things are going to grow out of all this"
3/31/2009
“I’m right on the edge…I don’t know what comes next.”
~ Steve, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
So, since the whole global financial market collapsed and we have a black President-Elect and OJ got sent upstate and Bush had a pair of Iraqi Buster Browns thrown at him, Supa decided to take a pause from this free-fall outta civilization and reflect on some of her personal shit. Yes!
Okay. So, according to her latest attempt at some form of fleeting dysfunctional female-to-male human bonding (a summer romance), Supa has now been dubiously labeled as a (wait for it) Disaster on Heels. Knowing full well that she falls neatly into the Beautiful Mess category, but whatever - he does acknowledge my stiletto game proper. And fuck him. Supa does not take personality flaw advice from a man with four children and an ex-wife and a sorta kinda current live-in girlfriend from
And molestation of a grown male, is like, a victimless crime.
Yes. Real sloppy start; granted. Even for me.
But it was radiant and ninety-eight degrees in LaLa land, the earth moved and birds sang and I began reading Anais Nin; he was exotic and new and forbidden and there, and I was freshly bikini waxed in a slinky summer dress, slingbacks and a thong, flossing a new Arabic tattoo; and forgive me for feeling ultimately fucking sexy. And thus he growled the words which propelled our short lived, shifty romance into full throttle: (He: “Damn, I must be some kind of lucky bastard,” when Supa accidently spilled the secrets in her bra). And off we went, sprinting toward the No, I’m Way More Fucked Up Than YOU finish line. Good times.
What can I say? It was summertime. My hormones were later proven to be unbalanced. He was cute. I was bored, on the prowl, inspired, determined to solidify my MILF status, who knows. I let him read (gasp!) some fresh writing material. He sat me down and tried to convince me why I was brilliant. (beware, the treachery of vanity.) We philosophized about everything from nihilism to Nietzsche. We each felt up the other in inappropriate, public places. Like the Mickey to my Mallory, we were wild and unstoppable. We were vibing so hard and yet he was so curiously/deliciously hesitant to join me in this sink-or-swim, emotional equivalent to chicken - which got Supa really excited. Or real determined.
Push/pull/back/forth/yin/yang/estrogen/testosterone. When the raw biological intensity reached its fever pitch, Supa allegedly trumped him by declaring, “Why can’t you just be my willing lover until I find out who I really want to be with, I mean, is that so WRONG?” (Supa, while violently reaching for his crotch) He then literally, how we say in this crumbling contemporary society - punked out.
Falling on his knees (as if I priestess and he confessor), he then tragically explained how he was a just momma’s boy (he’s 41 years old), and no good at these games with Alpha Females, he always loses (what the hell), how he had apparently bitten off more than he could now chew, and that my presence was pressing so hard (pun intended) against his existence that he didn’t like the constant horny disorganized state in which it left him.
The Got Me on My Knees Layla shtick. How original.
So since Supa was all good and heated and had the female equivalent of, how you say, Blue Balls..she stared blankly at fool, then immediately poked out her bottom lip, gathered her toys, and told him to not call her when he was ready to come outside and play.
What mutherfucka, what.
And here’s the kicker. We never actually consummated. Just engaged in a bunch of impulsive, drawn out, erotic and entirely senseless suckling and fondling, necking and petting. Which turns out to be the converse polar opposite of getting laid; when you’re coming off some kind of healthy, self-imposed year of celibacy type thing.
And don’t worry, we agreed his punishment was that I was allowed to blog about it all, as long as I didn’t reveal a solid timeline or drop hints about our haunts. Or call him a dramatic cunt. He goes by codename: The Culprit.
I left him with a bit of sage advice: Dude. Don’t ever finger fuck a poet’s feelings. Stroke them well, or you become fodder.
I told you I was trouble/you know, I'm no good.... Amy Wino
So now.
I scribble and lounge in my loft after-hours; the constant companions at my side (incense, books, quotes, pooch, wine) and the incessant pondering begins. #1: Fuck him. Right? Besides, I think I kinda might be in love with somebody else, anyway. Maybe. #2. I’ve gotta get a treadmill. #3. Shall I read the Bible or watch the rest of Bad Girls Club? #4. What am I gonna wear to work tomorrow? #5. What is an Alpha Female, exactly? #6. And shouldn’t that make one more eligible for successful pairing with an Alpha Male? #7. What is an Alpha Male, exactly?
Okay. I will release you from the insanity which goes on inside my brain now….
“Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air…” ~RWE
Sigh. Well, at the very least, one could say at the moment:
Looks like Supa’s got her swagga back.
(Karen: Chile, look at me. Actin' UP)
…to be continued….
Labels: haps, ramblings, stuff, the writing life
Labels: beautiful struggles, haps
Some some some I some I murder
Some I some I let go.....
Labels: ramblings, stuff, tunes
Labels: books, stuff, the writing life
8. What's up with this fetish I have: the male species and sexy accents? Whether it be Portuguese, British, Punjabi, Inglewood, Welsh, Australian, Compton-ian, Italian, Russian, East Los Angelese, Brooklyn, et al? (Not German. Or Dutch.)
9. Who else believes aggravated battery is the appropriate punishment for lazy ass folk who get on an elevator to ride one floor up or down, in like a 20 story highrise? Just me?
10. How come alcoholic beverages taste so good?
11. When September rolls around, who else starts wondering what the world would be like if Pac was still in it?
12. Will I ever get over my irrational Clive Owen crush? Considering I’m newly (and obsessively) infatuated with Bruce Wayne/Bat Man/The Dark Knight/Christian Bale? (He had me at The Machinist)
13. Why is it nowadays when I’m enjoying some bass-banging, inane, totally ignorant rap music in the whip, I turn the volume waaay down at red lights & stop signs - so no one else can hear what I’m listening to?
14. Does Supa still love hip-hop?
15. Should I be concerned that my dog appears to be lesbian?
16. And that while playing on the sofa, she attempts to include me(more specifically: my arm or leg) in three-way humping sessions between her girl stuffed rabbit animal, herself, and me?
17. What happened to the days when having a mediocre case of obsessive-compulsive disorder was explained away with cute little savory quips such as: “creative,” “special,” “organized,” "different," “quirky,” “eccentric,” “given to harmless fits of agitation,” “anal retentive,” or simply “control freak?”
18. What happened to the “Love Jones” movie sequel?
19. And where the hell is Larenz’ fine ass?
20. Is it evolved, pimpalicious (thanks D), or disturbing to have a get-together at a posh bar and invite three of your ex-boyfriends to come hang? And they all show up?
21. And they chat and drink together, while you’re wilding out on the dance floor sandwiched between two random dudes; and you wink at said ex's while throwing up the peace sign?
22. Who else is considering a move to Canada if this November shit doesn’t work out right?
23. Can you say “American Psycho?”
24. Who else cringed while watching (and reading) this fool’s amazing, disgusting, sadistic fall from grace?
25. And who else now thinks four, five times before sending those raunchy text messages to the co-worker you’re (halfway thinking about) fucking?
26. How grateful would you be if today, you lost everything – and then tomorrow, got it all back?
~ Supa, out.
PS- Sorry for the junky formatting, either blogger or my new laptop is triipppin'
Labels: bullshiznit, ramblings, stuff
"this right here is some bullshit...."