polyphony.

she's gauzed deep
in her intricate tales of anonymous
protagonists
and broken promises
gathered in the corners of her eyes
and under her fingernails from where
she's scratched out her niche
in the backs
of men stupid enough to fk with her fury
they only teasing her canal cause
aint a man yet long enough to
tap that which be wasting away
in
half hearted
notebook fillers and
heart felt soliloquies
that remind her of masturbating and how it makes her cry because she just wants these dumb niggas to understand her language

and how

her words be few these days
her lungs are too tired to be creative
and she's given up selling her complexity
but she still writes subliminal passages
in between each & every readily accessible line

articulating where shes been and where shes going
consigning her soul and steadily knowing

that it's all but hopeless
letting herbs hit with no protection, & no focus
and she knows its a conflict of interest
but its something about being touched and how

(being blessed with a vivid imagination)

she can make believe these moments of willing surrender
into picket fences and pretty babies and reperations and food on the table
and love
she remembers when it was knuckleheads
on the front stoop of her
brownstone that had foul mouths but
good hearts and
were handsome under their bubble coats and
how these niggas now be
mostly ugly
and the vividness of that past
makes her lose faith fast

but

i see her
and i want to hold her hand
tell her that it's still me that wants to be her boy next door
her best friend between her sheets
of looseleaf on which she been
writing all the wrongs she been handed
and
im scared 'cause
i know shes jaded
and
her skin is dirty from fingerprints of niggas thinkin they made it
and im looking like everybody shes ever hated


somn im working on.

okay.

so, i'm going to sit here and force a complete blog entry out.

interesting things have been going on recently.

first off, my job.

i skipped work on thursday. i was going to be late, and since i had already been sent home because of being three minutes late earlier in the week, i didn't even waste my time continuing the journey to work. i stopped midstride, went back home, and started looking for jobs.

i thought about the ridiculousness of the whole procedure long and hard that night. i cross-referenced the pro-rated paycheck i'd be getting on friday with the amount of energy my job had wrested from me over the exact same week. i'd decided i'd had enough.

so i quit.

i typed up a short but concise letter of resignation and emailed it that night, straight to the company email address, so that my manager, and anyone else who had access to a computer, could read it. i mentioned that i'd be in to pick up my check no later than 1pm that friday, and closed the letter.

as one weight of overwhelming proportions was raised from my shoulders, another fell on me. pretty heavy. see, i need money man. and as much as i've been exclaiming about lucrative job offers and the like, none of them shits have come through. none.

but i was like whatever. i know i can find a job. and until i do that, i'll be at the rest making beats and concocting detailed plans for the Irresistable Take-Over.

(we'll refer to that from now on as the ITO. write this down in your PRRDB, or your Pre-Reqs to Reading Dave's Blog.)

anyway. i go in at 1pm, as promised, and pick up my check. there's a disquieting quiet about the office, coworker Tom speaks to me in that apologetic tone, kind of like wishing i hadn't had to endure what i did there, and Jose stands to hand me my check. he then points outside and follows me to the front door.

you know this man gets me outside and offers my job back, with the option to start my day later?

alright, so this should rule out any question as to whether i did my job well. i was on some above and beyond 40+ hours a week, and for one of the lower salaries i've had since typing and filing my way into an office setting.

i had to accept.

the idea of being broke for any amount of time was fking with me something serious. i'm on a mission, and as secret as it is, it's no secret that most successful missions had some sort of financial backing. i've got equipment to buy. debts to pay. car insurance, man. the list goes on.

BUT.

it will be made known that i've been getting outstanding offers for employment, and should one come through, i'll be accepting.

*sigh*

________________________________________________________


my brother is currently in the process of moving back home. he says it's for a short period of time, but... i mean, come on. you gonna get your isht up to par and then some, on a fedex graveyard shift salary? and try to make beats with me?

________________________________________________________

speaking of beats.

yeah. i'm having fun again. there's trouble a brewing, yo. watch.

________________________________________________________


i'm going to work on getting a website popping. i've been trying to employ the talents of two cats i've come across in my cyber travels. one's fallen off of my map, and i had a falling out with the other a little more than a year ago.

i dunno. i've pretty much settled on my hosting. we'll see.

ive got some other things in the works, so i'll eventually have lots to report.

.kcab alloh

so wait.

that's

three dollars

more than i make now?

hallah!!!

*leads you all in prayer*

decisions.

recv'd a call today, about 10:38 am.

856 number, which i automatically recognize as a jersey number.

i ignore it, since i'm at work. i figure they can leave a msg.

phone rings again, @ 10:39am. same number. now im mentally scanning names i know in jersey. south jersey, really.

voicemail this time. werd. i'll check it at lunch.

phone rings again. i grab it, duck out the office and answer.

i didn't tell you, but yesterday i went on an interview at a temp agency. figured it couldn't hurt. they've got 3 offices, one in delaware, one in philly, and you guessed it, one in cherry hill nj.

"dave i got something, you let me know if you're interested. job at blue cross blue shield, downtown philly, 8 to 4 m-f, starts monday."

$2 more per hour than i'm making now.

fuhks yeah i'm interested.

so uh. what do i do? i wanted to quit this batch and take a break. nah wait. you don't exactly get it.

i need that break.

but this offer isn't necessarily expendable either. decisions, kids.

i'll holla.