Today my dog is 9 years old. I wrote this blog entry two years ago, on September 27, 2000

BRANDY

Brandy and I were brought together by destiny, if you will. When I met her, I was with my play-sister, Angie. We were watching "Beethoven" with my nephews Chris and Angelo. The neighborhood dopefiend came by with this tiny puppy. She was trying to sell her. I took her in my hands - she was so little - and her amber eyes just melted me. She crawled along my arm and buried her face in my side. I told the chick "you ain't getting her back".

All I had was 5 bucks, and I gave it to her. What was I doing? I lived in a studio apartment with a crochety cat and a lazy man. But I hadn't had a dog in my life since my Dalmatian, Pandora, who was with me from age 8 to 18. Angie offered to keep the dog at her house, and the boys promised to take care of her when I wasn't there.

I was sipping on a glass of Hennessey and Coca Cola. The puppy was roughly the same color as the cognac in the bottle and I thought about naming her Hennessey. The boys offered some names, but then Angie said "name her Brandy, like in that song by the Whispers." So Brandy she became. Besides, Angelo couldn't say "Hennessey" anyway.

Brandy was covered with fly-bite sores and was walking on three legs, because she'd been stepped on. She was filthy and had fleas, and her eyes were all crusty. I sent Angie's stepbrother out for some puppy chow and cleaned her up. We were trying to figure out what kind of dog she was. Chris said he knew her mother, she was a stray dog whose owners moved away and left her and she just hung out in the neighborhood (I'm sure these people have had some very bad things happen to them for doing that to their dog). This stray was an all-black Chow mix.

Brandy was a pretty reddish chestnut color, with some black markings on her face and cute little folded over ears. She had a skinny little slip of a tail and tiny white paws. The first day or so that we had her she didn't seem very playful. But once she'd gotten clean and had eaten some food, she started acting like a real puppy. Angie laid newspaper down in the bathroom and made the boys keep her in there most of the time. She's a cat person and only tolerates certain dogs. But because her boys wanted a dog so much, she decided to try to warm up to Brandy.

A few days after I bought Brandy, I took her to the vet to try to figure out how old she was. The vet estimated her age at 5 weeks; counting down from that day, five weeks ago would have been September 27th. That had been Liebschen's birthday.

If you've ever had a German Shepherd in your family, then you know what I mean when I say that Liebschen was my nanny. The minute my parents brought me home from the hospital, Liebschen took it upon herself to be my guardian. She would only let my parents come near me, and a year and a half later she was the same way towards Danny. Liebschen was a beloved part of our family so I considered it a good sign that Brandy's birthday was going to be the same as hers.

A couple weeks later I took Brandy in to get her first puppy shots. Instead of taking her back to Angie's that night, I took her home so I could monitor her. She had a fever and was quite lethargic most of the night. I had her in a little shoebox, and had to lift her head to make her drink some water. In the morning she felt better, and was bouncing around my apartment, trying to get close enough to my cat Misha to get a good smell. My boyfriend was instantly sprung on Brandy. He wouldn't let me take her back to Angie's.

I bought Brandy a crate so I could housetrain her correctly. I bought a bunch of pheremone-treated absorbent pads and had her housetrained in less than a month. But one night when she'd been living with us for about two weeks my boyfriend got tired of hearing her whine because she had to sleep by herself, in the crate next to our bed. Not only did he bring her into our bed, but the next day he taught her how to get onto the bed. She was ruined for life. I haven't gotten her off the bed yet!

Brandy is still that gorgeous, well, brandy color. She doesn't have the black markings on her face anymore; just black "eyeliner", and a thin white streak that runs between her eyes. Her ears stand up straight and make her look a lot like a fox. She has beautiful, thick tufts of hair behind her ears and her ruff is thick and white. Her belly is white, too, and her feet, which are small and dainty. Her little slip of a tail has grown into the most gorgeous chestnut and white plume, that curls over her back and gives her a definitely regal look.

My dog loves tennis balls, running in open fields, and belly rubs. She loves men and kids, but has no patience for babies or toddlers, or for other dogs. She believes that she was put on earth to chase all cats and squirrels. She kills possums. She swims like a water spaniel and herds like a border collie. She's the stuck up chick at the dog park that all the other dogs want to play with. But Brandy, diva that she is, won't give them the time of day. She's smart as a whip, and damn near quick as one, too. She's fiercely loyal and jealous. And today, she's seven years old.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Samantha
July 16, 1999

I don't remember how I met Samantha. Seems like I always knew her, but my first memory of her is from the seventh grade. We were 13, and I already knew her somehow. Maybe we just knew OF each other, and had never spoken before. Samantha, AKA Candie, opened the door to Mr Regello's geography class and poked her head in.

"Psst! Ay!" She said to someone she knew. This was more interesting than Mr Regello. I don't remember who she was talking to, but she was trying to get whoever it was to go somewhere with her. I watched her while she stood there talking. I was intrigued by her because she was bold, loud, and pretty, and kind of wild and popular, and she was a blonde girl like me.

Samantha looked around at the people in the class and saw me watching her.

"Hi Amanda!" she said.
I said "Hi!", glad to be included in her conversation.
"Come with me" she insisted, "c'mon, tell Mr Regello you got to go".

Mr Regello was completely oblivious to what was going on at the door to his class. Sometimes he would be in front of his maps, his back turned to the class, and some of the boys would step out of the window and onto the cafeteria roof. He never caught them.

I remember saying "huh?" and asking Samantha what she wanted me to say. I think I ended up telling Mr Regello I had to go to the nurse or something. It was almost lunchtime and for thirty minutes Samantha & I wandered around McChesney. She had me look in a classroom to see if a boy she liked was there that day. We showed each other where our lockers were, and discovered that we both had the same counselor, Mr Pascoa. He looked like Poncerelli. I had lunch at her table that day.

Soon we were thick as thieves. Candie and Mandy. She was full of schemes. I would go along with some of them, but she kept trying to get me to cut school. I was too scared. But she wore me down.

One morning she was at the bus stop when I got to school. She grabbed my elbow and started walking me towards the far entrance. "You ain't goin to school today" she hissed in my ear. I looked at her and I guess I looked scared, because she laughed.
"C'mon, Mandy, please? These girls from Bret Harte are supposed to be comin up here to fight me. I don't wanna be around here today".

Samantha was always fighting or finna fight somebody. She had a smart mouth and was like a bulldog when it came to backing down from a challenge. I totally believed her.

We walked down 13th Ave to MacArthur, and then ran across the freeway overpass, looking over our shoulders every few feet. We turned on E 34th and stood panting. She was grinning. I was too.

"Ditch your books" she told me.
"What?"
"Ditch your books! Put 'em under that bush". She pointed to a juniper in someone's front yard. I tucked my binder and my math book out of sight. Then Samantha led me down three or four streets until we came to a blue house.
"My friend lives here. His mama is out of town so we can kick it". I just went along with whatever Samantha suggested. I was way out of my element.

She knocked on the door and a boy our age answered it.
"Hey Candie, what's up? C'mon in y'all." Inside there were two other boys. I knew one of them by sight, but I'd never spoken to him. I'd never seen the the other two.

They were Cedric, Del and Michael. I knew who Del was, because he went to our school. Cedric and Michael went to Roosevelt. We all sat down on the couches in the living room and Samantha pulled out a pack of Newports. She lit it and offered me one. I looked at her like she was crazy. "Just try it", she teased.

I tried it. It was hella nasty, but I took it like a man. And coughed a lot. One of the boys, Cedric, was sitting next to me. He showed me how to inhale. I didn't like it. Then Del took a joint out of his cigarette pack and lit it. It was passed around. Samantha told me in a low voice, "You better hit that. Don't be a punk". So I hit it. I hit it each time it came around. We were listening to KSOL 107.7. I remember hearing One Nation Under a Groove and Shake Your Pants that day. And Kenny Loggins, This Is It.

We smoked a lot of weed and cigarettes. We drank red Kool Aid. Everyone was laughing a lot. Cedric had his arm around me and was asking me a hundred questions that sounded hella funny to me. I laughed at him and he asked me if I had a boyfriend. I said "no". He asked me if I knew how to french kiss. I said "no". He told me he would show me. Samantha was all hugged up with Del so I didn't really feel like I should turn his offer down. Michael had already punked out and was laying down in his room.

I'd kissed two boys before, but they were those closed mouth kisses where you pucker up your lips and rub your mouths together for a long time. Cedric put his arms around me and closed his eyes and started kissing me. I kept my eyes open. He licked my lips with his tongue and I laughed. He laughed too but pulled me back again and this time I let him play with my lips. It was really nice. I kept watching him the whole time. Taking notes. I opened my mouth and he stuck his tongue in, and it was the oddest sensation I'd ever had. Someone else was licking their tongue in my mouth. Up until that moment the very idea of it had always been kind of gross. But I started to dig it.

He rubbed my chest but the only reason I wore a bra was because I was 13. I had to have a bra. Even though I didn't have anything to put in it. We kissed for a long time. Eventually Michael came out the room and announced that he had the munchies.

Everyone else did too, so we left out the blue house and walked back up towards McChesney. It was lunchtime at Oakland High, and there were groups of big kids walking up and down the street, hanging out in front of the corner store (Only 2 Students Allowed At A Time!) or the Cable Car.

Greasy burritos and salty chips and blue soda. That's what Samantha & I always got at the Cable Car. But that had always been after school, and here it was lunchtime, when we were usually in the cafeteria being loud and cliquey, and we were in the Cable Car with Oakland High kids.

I was in awe of them. The girls were so cool and pretty, and the boys were so nasty. But cute. We got our food and ate it outside in front of the diner. Cedric gave me his number and kept talking about kicking it. Del and Michael were throwing jalapenos at each other. Samantha was talking to some Oakland High kids she knew. And then Stoney rolled up on us.

Stoney was the big ass security guard who wandered around the grounds of McChesney, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. He had a jheri curl. He was loud and fast and if you got caught doing something, he'd march your ass down to the office loud-talking you so anyone you passed knew exactly what you'd done.

Stoney walked up on us and Samantha took off running. I stood there stuck on stupid. Del walked hella fast around the corner of the Cable Car. Cedric and Michael just watched us get busted. They went to Roosevelt, they didn't care. Stoney ran past Samantha and stopped in front of her. She stopped and hung her head. I was still on pause.

We were taken to the office. Stoney clowned us the whole time.
"Standin out there messin with boys, y'all should be ashamed." I heard kids giggling and kept my eyes on the floor.

We were suspended. I didn't tell my mom about the smoking or the kissing, but what she knew was bad enough: I'd cut school and gotten suspended. She kicked my ass. I was on restriction for hella long, and warned to stay away from Samantha. I didn't.

Samantha got me in trouble, scrapes, adventures and dramas. Over and over, she'd come up with some plan or another. Pretty soon I started adding ideas. We cut school all the time. We turned square kids out. We smoked cigarettes and weed and kissed boys and one day I drank some Pink Champale. It was nasty. We got in fights and got our asses kicked and beat some girls up and ran & jumped fences to get away from fights. We got caught by Stoney and, one time, Mr Pascoa was coming into school late and saw us walking down 14th Ave. We were suspended that time too.

I don't recommend badness to any kid. I hope my son doesn't read this until he's got a degree or two. But Samantha and I built our friendship on juvenile delinquency, and some of my fondest memories are of some scandless shit.

Yeah. She turned me out.

The 40 Goin Norty
December 14, 2001

Tonight I rode the 40L bus out to East Oakland to get my son from my mom's. It brought back memories, for real. I rode the 40 for years and years. The route's changed a bit over the years - back in the day it would continue eastbound after Foothill becomes MacArthur at 73rd Avenue, but now it turns south on 73rd and then east at, I think, Bancroft.

It's a long line, from San Leandro through East Oakland, downtown, North Oakland, to downtown Berkeley via Telegraph Ave. The 40L makes limited stops, every third or fourth one through the East Side. It was the first bus I ever rode by myself, when I was seven. When I was in the Oakland Children's Chorus I caught the 40 out to Beebe Memorial church on the North Side twice a week, on Wednesdays after school and on Saturdays.

I caught the 40 from 51st Ave and Foothill down to the pool at Fremont High, where I learned to swim. We caught the 40 to 27th Street and Telegraph to shop at Sears and the Wherehouse. I rode the 40 to transfer to the 18, which took me to McChesney Junior High and later to Oakland High. The 40 was the bus I rode to get to summer school at Castlemont, and in the 12th grade I rode the 40 to 23rd Ave and walked a couple blocks to the Oakland Emiliano Zapata Street Academy. Most importantly, the 40 goin Norty was the bus that took us to Berkeley, where we'd cut school and hang out in People's Park or buy pizza at Blondie's and cause as much trouble as we could think up.

Man, the 40 used to be a crazy ride. Sometimes you could get a contact on the 40. I got in fights on the 40. Usually there'd be a fool or two somewhere along the line, and that'd provide plenty of entertainment. In the late 80's I lived up by 106th Ave and I worked downtown, on Franklin Street. Sometimes it took that damn 40 an hour and a half to get downtown. Then they started the 40L with the limited stops, and I was hella happy. I used to catch the bus home in front of the Tribune building, before the 40 started turning left at 11th instead of 13th. Often I'd sit at the bench and smoke a half a joint waiting for the bus. I enjoyed being high and trippin off the crazy mofos on the bus.

I haven't smelled smoke, weed or Newport, on a bus in years. If people still fight on the bus I don't see it. Maybe it's just cause I'm older now, and I don't see the secret crazy society of the young anymore. But the 40, the 57 and the 82, all buses that used to be pretty rowdy, are quite mellow these days.

Tonight's ride was cramped, and there was an unfortunate man who smelled pretty awful. Even though it was freezing there were windows open, and most of us around him covered our noses. Fortunately for me, he got off the bus soon after I got on. At Eastmont (can't call it The Mall anymore, cause a mall it ain't) there's a new metro center for the buses, and I got off there and caught the 57 six blocks down MacArthur towards my mom's house. Jayden had been sick, and was with my mom the past two and a half days. As interesting as it was riding the 40L again, wasn't no way in hell I was gonna ride an hour on the bus with my baby. So I dropped a twomp and took a cab all the way back home, to my nice little hurray-I-escaped-the-ghetto apartment.

And if anyone, anyone at all, out there in blogland knows what the "AC Mob" was, you are certifiably O Town Old Skool and u should send me an email.

April 6, 2001

Aspirations ambitions
falling to the wayside
picked up by no one
faith restored by nothing.

futility looms
failure threatens
giving up won't work.
but still...


if you can't depend on yourself
then there's no one else
and if no one's around at all
you're really alone.


how do you pull yourself
up out of the depths?
I mean from a really deep place.


can you do it alone,
is what I want to know.


can you do it even if
there's no one around?
even if not one person
calls
or comes by
to see that you're okay?


or, since no one can be bothered,
do you just accept
that shit is really bad
and feel sorry for yourself?


what do you do
when you hate who you are
and how you are
and no one is telling you
that you shouldn't?
that you're worth giving a fuck about?

I love this blog. I love the colors, and the way it looks. I heart Blogger and Blogspot, too. But I can't upload images (for free), and the free commenting out there is too inconsistent. I've been given the gift of free hosting and I'm pretty satisfied with the tweaking I've done to the new Possibly Interesting, so go ahead and update your links. And thanks for reading.

The man that I'm seeing is very nice and very sweet, but I can't be his girlfriend. We're having a lot of fun but there's too much of myself I would have to compromise to be his woman, and I'm not down with that.

I met another man last week. He took me out to lunch. Unfortunately, I didn't realize when I met him that he's totally thugged out. And dumb as dirt. Thank goodness he decided not to call me again - even though he complimented me shamelessly on my eyes, my feet, my hair and the way I walk - because I'd hate to have to tell him to lose my number.

That other man, my friend who asked me out a few weeks ago, is okay with me keeping his offer open. He's kind, decent, and attractive; but we see each other every day and that's a bit close for comfort right now. I would hate it if things didn't work out romantically and it affected our day-to-day contact.

I've been crushing on yet another man for quite some time. Crushes are good. They're safe, for me, because I rarely act on them. And this particular man has a significant other, which means I won't ever reveal my crush. I'd never do that to his woman, whom I've never met but admire anyway. All I'll ever do is enjoy knowing him and feel a secret little rush of pleasure when he turns his attention in my direction.

Jayden told me the other day that he wants me to have a husband. I told him I want me to, too, but it takes a long time to find someone you want to marry. He asked me if I wanted to marry -----, and I said no, he's just a very good friend. Jayden said I should marry him because he "plays with me and gives me quarters for the games".

If only it were that simple.

Jayden: "Mama, next time, we're gonna go to the jooey factory, because they have the shiiiiiiiiiny gold rings, the ones that fit your ears".

Me: "You want to buy me some earrings, honey?"

Jayden: "Yeah, because you're a nice mama and you need some shiiiiiiiiny gold".

Me: "Well, Jayden, you know earrings cost a lot of money".

Jayden: "Oh, yes, but I have a job, Mama".

Me: "Oh, you do? What kind of job do you have?"

Jayden: "I'm a race car driver! And I never crash. So I can buy all the jooey in the jooey factory for you".

What marketing genius thought up this name? Probably someone who believes anorexia is a lifestyle, not a killer disease. Sick. And irresponsible.

I have a (irrational?) fear of meningitis. This is as bad, or worse. I'm mostly afraid that Jayden will catch it, because kids are always more at risk of dying from serious diseases. And I'd given the whole West Nile story little attention - I'd been in the it's-far-away-so-I-ain't-trippin mindset. No more denial, I guess. Yikes.

Michele posted an entry about a group in upstate NY that is planning a protest at "ground zero" on 9/11/01 against "illegal immigration" because migrant workers are "destroying" their community. I was going to link to the entry and the article, but it looks like aliens have taken over her page. I sure hope no one's hacked her site, that would be some fucked up stanky shit.
Update: her post, and the bigots she wrote about.

My first search referral for the new blog is "not just knee deep". I'm the 1st & 2nd results! I'm just tickled about that, I must say.

Yesterday was sort of a non-productive day. Actually, I'm lying, because I hung out with Gwen & she gave me a crash intro to CSS. And a bunch of resources to learn more. And we (really, she with me looking over her shoulder) moved things around and made some tables and got the new blog starting to look the way I want it to.

For the most part we sat around and smoked and talked and noshed and enjoyed each other's company. No kids, no boyfriend, just us grrls hanging around the house. I did my nails and checked out one of her Giant Robot mags. I adore Giant Robot. They have all the kEwLiEsT
stuff. It's a good thing I don't live in SoCal or I'd spend way too much scrilla there.

We had coffee in kids' mugs with lots of milk and she even keeps Equal in her kitchen. Later we walked downtown to handle some bidness and we wanted to get something to eat. We had a Burger King budget but sure didn't want no BK. I was trying to think of a cheap place to go, and then remembered the Hawaiian Walk In over on 15th. Gwen said she'd seen it but never tried it, so the Walk In it was. On the way there we passed a tiny, dark little shop with vintage clothes hanging in front.

How could we resist? They had some rockin coats and prom dresses and every kind of polyester pant you could hope for. A nice West African man came out of the back and greeted us, then left us alone to browse. In the back of the store there's what we figured was a shrine, with a framed picture of Michael Jackson wearing his Thriller-era face, and a record album by some African female singer. The store has tons of old shoes, most of them way too small for my feet, but I did see a well-worn pair of purple Doc Martens that looked big enough.

We oohed and aahed over stuff and Gwen tried on a really cute pink jacket that I think she should've bought, but since we weren't buying, and since we were really hungry, we cut the browsing short and went down the block to eat.

The Hawaiian Walk In is a bare-bones hole-in-the-wall that makes delicious Hawaiian food. We had the chicken katsu, which is chicken breasts battered in something that's almost like the confectioners' corn flakes they use in Butterfinger bars. It's deep fried until it's crunchy, and they cut it into strips before serving. Their plates come with two scoops of rice and one of macaroni salad. And their macaroni salad is The Best I've Ever Tasted. Big elbow macaroni, shredded carrots, and the creamiest dressing. Mmm. I always order one scoop of rice and two of macaroni. Gwen followed my lead, and I'm pretty sure she enjoyed it 'cause she polished it off. But neither one of us could finish our chicken - we ate a bunch of it & we both still had enough to take home & feed our kids with.

Go give the Hawaiian Walk In some business - they've got some good food that won't leave you broke (or hungry).

I hate pricking my fingers. So I don't do it every day. I'm supposed to, two or three times daily. It sucks. I hope this is available soon, and I sure as hell hope that wristwatch ain't buttugly...something glam and sparkly, of course, would be perfect.

You may have noticed that I've got something else going on in the blogiverse (all thanks & praise go to my lovely host). I'm doing simultaneous posting until I can get the template figured out & make it look like mine. In the meantime, you can keep reading me here, or you can update your links now if you like. You won't miss anything either way, I promise.

My first Nam Nam post is up!

100% pure, unadulterated fluff:

I am Chocolate Flavoured. I am sweet and a little bit naughty. I am one of the few clinically proven aphrodisiacs. Sometimes I can seem a little hard, but show warmth and I soon melt. What Flavour Are You?

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



What Was Your Past Life?

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




What Snack Food are YOU?

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


You are Carl Sandburg
You see the world in a different way than your peers and are able to find beauty in the most unusual places!

Take the Which Poet are You? Quiz - brought to you out of boredom and pretension!

Collage:

Grace is something not present in many people. Hurting feelings, misconstruing words, jumping the gun, can all sever lines of communication; some people can make things right just by the grace of their words/actions. It's a delight when you come across someone like that.

Some men look 20x better after they take that damn doo-rag off their head.

A whine-less morning can tint your entire day rosy.

There are very few places where I always feel at peace; one is the little Japanese garden tucked into the horticultural gardens at Lake Merritt. While there today I saw a turtle sitting on some leaves in the middle of the pond, but no koi. The water was cloudy, and no fish. What does that mean? I was disappointed.

Autumn is coming, and Autumn is good. It's the best time of the year, really. It's the time of year that I chose to make my entrance into the world, and it's the time of year I feel my best. It's also the most productive - creatively speaking - time of year for me.

I don't drink nearly as many sugar-free caramel lattes as I would like to.

I'd just had emergency surgery to repair a hernia on August 31st. I came home on September 7th. I had a big piece of plastic covering the hole in my abdomen and lots of painkillers. Jayden and Brandy were at my mom's; I was alone all day and I couldn't move much at all. I spent most of those first days home sitting on my big lounge chair, propped up with pillows. I talked on the phone and watched TV or read. I was in terrible pain; it hurt to move, and I had a plastic drainage bulb hanging from my gut which irritated and annoyed me. I was in a daze much of the time, from the pain and the strong narcotics.

The morning of the 11th I woke up around 5:30, after only a few hours of sleep. It was Jayden's first day at Head Start, and my brother was going to pick him up from my mom's and take him to school. I was slightly depressed that I couldn't be there to meet his teachers and see him off, but I was also excited about this new step he was taking.

It took me almost a half hour to make it to the bathroom and then to the kitchen for some breakfast. Once I'd settled back down on the lounge chair I turned on the TV, expecting to see the KTVU morning anchors and get my news fix on.

Instead, there was a CNN feed from Manhattan, showing the twin towers of the World Trade Center on fire.

"Oh fuck!" I thought. Another bombing. I watched in horror as CNN played minutes-old footage of planes crashing into the buildings. My entire body went cold, from my scalp down. I called my mother.

"Mommy! Turn on the TV!" I yelled, like millions of people that morning.

MORE...

The three day weekend turned out to be uncomfortably hot, but enjoyable just the same. Saturday we stayed mostly in the house, with the fans on. Sunday was the same - it was just too hot to go outside, and I didn't want to risk getting a sunburn on my face like I did at Temescal last week. I couldn't do a damn thing all day. After dark I gathered our laundry together and we went to the wash house.

I've got a friend I met there, yes that's right, a friend. The neck kisser. I've gotten kisses a few other places lately. I must say, it's awfully nice to be "involved" with a man again. Sunday nite we managed to finagle some together time and I'm a happy girl.

Monday, Labor Day, was my sister in law's 34th. We hung out at my brother's and ate BBQ and caught up. Mala's mama and brothers were there, along with my mom, Mala's younger brother Monti's friend, two of Mala's girlfriends, and coolest of all, I got to meet a cousin I never knew. Daniel is actually the nephew of my cousin's wife, but hey, that's family. He grew up in Chicago, like damn near all of my family, and just started school at Berkeley. He's a history major, I believe. A very cool guy who I hope to see/hang out with again soon.

Danny manned the grill, as usual, and made his delicious beef/pork/other stuff burgers. Mala and Mama Datta hooked up some beans, homemade biscuits (to DIE for) and the sweetest corn on the cob I've had in a while (no sugar in the water, even). There was a yummy chocolate brownie cake which I of course didn't taste, but everyone else praised it. We watched the A's kick ass and Mala's older brother Kevin took pictures with his sharp new digital camera, when he wasn't trying to figure out how it worked. I took some pix too, but my camera's cheap and it usually takes horrible pictures; and I left it there, so I don't know yet if they came out looking like anything. Jayden had brought a brand spankin new pack of sidewalk chalk and he and Danny drew on the front steps. Danny wrote "HOT" and Jayden wrote it too...although he wrote "OHO" on the right side of one step, and "T" on the left. I was tickled nonetheless.

I dig my brother and his friends, Mala's family and friends, I dig my family. We all have lots of cool ideas/opinions/experiences/jokes to bring to the table and Jayden always provides some comic/cute relief.

I had planned on checking out Art and Soul Oakland yesterday, but I'd gotten the invite to Danny & Mala's last week so of course that nixed the festival. Next year, for sure. George shared his jaunt with us...where's yours? I wanna see how much fun you had there, k?

Jayden started his last year of preschool today. Most of the kids in his "big kid" class are his friends from last year, plus a few new ones & minus a few old ones. I'd intended on staying until nap time, but it was pretty hectic and the teachers suggested a day when everyone's been settled into the new room.

He's a big boy now. He knows so much. Jayden can read words like "go", "stop", "dog", and of course, his name. I keep saying he'll be reading soon, but really, he already is. He understands that words tell the stories in books, and he runs his finger from left to right under the text as he "reads" what he thinks the words say. I have him spell random words in his books as we read, and he completely gets it. He stalls over lowercase d and b, and gets confused by lowercase a when it's got that - what? I don't think it's a serif, is it? that hook over the round part. Other than that, he's got the letter recognition down. He even understands question marks and exclamatian points. He can count correctly up to around 15, and with a flub or two can get to 30. He can count the objects in a group and often does it unprompted. And my baby has mad grammar skills - even though I've gotten heat for saying things like "finna" and "I ain't got no" around him, he speaks pretty damn good English. He says "well" instead of "good" when appropriate, and his tenses are rarely misused. I'm a proud mama.

Around about the end of 1988 I was staying in deep East Oakland, in the 100's. Me and a few other 20 and 21 year old chicks lived in a tore-up one bedroom apartment right on the ho stroll. There was all kinds of excitement right outside our door, but there were too many of us inside. We got on each other's nerves a lot.

We hit the streets to get some breathing space. One or two, or all of us, would hop the 40 goin' norty, to Berkeley, or to downtown Oakland to get on the A bus to The City and the Palladium. Or we'd catch the T to the Alameda Naval Air Station and turn out the Enlisted Men's club.

One night Angie and I were on the 40 bus, Berkeley bound, and we'd only gotten as far as Eastmont Mall when we saw commotion out the window. Blocks and blocks of cars, full of gangsterish brothers, boomin systems thumpin Too $hort and Rodney O. They were mostly going south towards Bancroft, and we could see more such goings on in the distance.

Fuck Berkeley, we decided. Something major was up.

MORE...