ChillSpot Online: Our Art is Life

The Beginning

Jered

I’ve been sitting in my car outside her house for an hour, thinking about what had just happened. The windows are up, and I’m sweating like Patrick Ewing, but I just can’t move. I had come over here to propose to her, hell, the ring is sitting in my lap – 2 carat princess cut, crytal clear clarity, set in platinum, not worth a damn.

Full of promise, full of all the love and commitment my commitment-phobic ass could muster, simply tossed away. I never even got the chance to show it to her. I’ll never be the man to ask why – that’s just too weak for me.

Why is what victims ask, why is what fools ask, why is for babies and old people. But if I could ask something, it wouldn’t be why, but what. As in, What the hell just happened?!?! I guess that could count as a why, though, huh? Fuck it, why did this happen to us?

Julia

I can’t wait for my baby to get here.

He’s supposed to be here already, but I think he’s planning to propose to me, so he may be parked around the corner, tryin’ to get the words right in his head, cause my baby know he be overthinking things. I’ve already said yes, many times in fact.

Yes, when he drew my bath, filled it with sensual oils and rose petals. Yes, when he rubbed me down, caressed me so gently that I came twice without so much as a kiss. Yes, when we finally made love, slow and deep and long and strong. Yes, yes, YES!

But no, he’s not here yet. It’s actually quite a letdown. My girls been hyping me up all day, especially during lunch at Mortons downtown, when, over apple martinis I told them how I caught Jered in a moment near Kay Jewelers in the mall.

“Girl, that brotha got the itch to make you his WIFE,” Annette said. I responded, without even batting an eyelash, “Bitch, you’d know, with your three-times divorced ass!” The girls at the table just about spit up those high-priced ass drinks off of THAT one.

“But seriously, girl,” she tried to elaborate, “If you saw him sweating like that, and he didn’t have a good, or even half-assed explanation, he either got a good secret, or a bad one.”

“My man ain’t got no bad secrets, except the ones I let him keep!”

I felt a couple eyes cut my way from that, knowing that every one of my friends done believed that Jered did something with Rachel, the wanna-be actress, TV anchor who had nude photos all over the internet.

The trick had the nerve to be callin it art! Jered would be a damn fool to get caught up with her again. I mean, ain’t one child out-of-wedlock enough? See? That’s why I don’t talk about my personal life with my girls; they don’t do shit but get me all riled up over nothing. All that aside, though. If Jered even had a STRAY THOUGHT about another woman, that I didn’t approve of, I’d make him wish his balls were caught in a vise.

But that’s not an issue, only where this brotha is with my ring!

Not so fast!
The Cleveland freakin’ Browns are above .500 for the first time since 2003, and they actually have a bit of a spine too, which bodes well for the future. They got down 14-0 to a desperate, if overmatched, Rams team, only to storm back (well, as much as a team that finished with 14 penalties can storm anywhere) to win 27-20. The team had clutch moments (minus Braylon’s drop, which could have saved some defensive heriocs by Leigh Bodden) and a bit of composure, that was sorely lacking early in the season. Even the game against the Patriots doesn’t look so bad now (especially after watching that team D-stroy the Redskins today).

Let’s not go screaming playoffs or anything, but my prediction of 5 wins looks rather foolhardy, and this is one time I don’t mind it one bit.

NFL notes
- The Pats looked rather strong, eh? I have no idea what to expect from this team in their contest versus the Colts Sunday. Will they score 70? Maybe. Will they hit Peyton Manning with so many complex coverages till he simply bursts a blood vessel in his head while calling his usual 50 audibles at the line of scrimmage? Will linebacker/TD machine Mike Vrabel throw a TD to Tom Brady this time? Everything is on the table, and I’ll be watching to see if Evil beats Good, as TMQ has discussed.
- The stench you smell is not methane gas, which routinely seems to be seeping from the sewers here, but is coming from the stinkface the Steelers gave the Cincinnati Bengals at Paul Brown Stadium. And the punt? The one that showed the 66,000 or so fans that the Bengals wear lace undies to bed? Well, let’s just say that now we know that THEY know when Victoria’s Secret has the 5 for $25 deal going on.
- Way to go NFL! Sending your foulest franchise to London as ambassadors for the game. They didn’t committ any criminal acts, unless you count impersonating an NFL franchise, of course. The performance they laid on those poor Brits probably made them long for NFL Europa’s return. Let’s just consider it payback for sending Beckham’s overrated bum cross the pond, eh?

Bonus MLB note
As I type, Boston is slowly draining the life out of the Rockies’ title dreams. Funny, but you don’t hear people screaming about 20 out of 21 wins anymore, do you now? My only issue is that is should have been the Indians whuppin some Rockie butt.

Death is too good for some
Demesha Sharp … of no relation (that I know of) was killed by a girl with a vendetta. That’s not the part that raises the collective ire of the community though, as kids kill kids all the time now. It’s the fact that the other girl’s mother AND 60-year-old GRANDMOTHER joined in, holding people off with weapons as their daughter stabbed Sharp in the heart. An angry crowd later set fire to the Holliman home, but no one was harmed. These women, and a man who was also involved, face charges in the murder and assaults they were involved in, and justice will likely be swift (or as swift as it can be). And I have no issue with any of it because I see no reason to have mercy on people so vile, so heartless and apathetic that they would believe this to be an acceptable way to squash a beef between GIRLS. To the Holliman family: Hell awaits you with open arms; enjoy the embrace.

There’s bullshit, then there’s male cow feces
NBA commish David “I am God” Stern flatly admitted that many referees in the league have broken the rules against gambling, but instead of hammering them, as he would with players or coaches, he’s simply going to change the rules, so that they CAN gamble, a little bit. This is the same man who thought it wise to change the ball, to a synthetic brand (which looked cheap as hell) from leather, then couldn’t take the heat, so changed it back midseason last year, and has tried to soften the ghetto-edged NBA by banning players from wearing certain clothes and jewelry while on NBA business. So for him to quietly (which is never his style when making proclamations from the sky) announce this change shows he does indeed fear something: and it may just be the lilly-white fan base he so craves, who may also have a soft spot for poker and slots.

“The Healing” feeling
The Strange Fruit Project’s album, the Healing is classic shit, right! These cats bring a throwback sound to hip-hop. Their sound would have been right at home in 1991 or so, with Tribe or the Beatnuts. But that’s not to say their sound is outdated, oh no. It is a compliment paid to sharply-written lyrics, tight beats, clever interludes and the right mix of artists backing them up. “Get Live” featuring Miss Badu, simply flows through your mind, like “Beats, Rhymes and Life” did. And my personal favorite track - “Rise” - is a disjointed groove, with spitfire rhymes from Phonte and Big Pooh of Little Brother so catchy that you’ll listen to it five times per sitting, just cause it feels that good.

Jared and Julia
I’m tossing around the idea of a series of shorts, about a couple going through a rocky point in their relationship. I’ll post my first snippet here, and maybe, if my five readers care, I’ll regularly update it here, taking input as to where it should go … like an interactive novel or something… So here goes…

Jared
I’ve been sitting in my car outside her house for an hour, thinking about what had just happened. The windows are up, and I’m sweating like Patrick Ewing, but I just can’t move. I had come over here to propose to her, hell, the ring is sitting in my lap – 2 carat princess cut, crystal clear clarity, set in platinum, not worth a damn. Full of promise, full of all the love and commitment my commitment-phobic ass could muster, simply tossed away. I never even got the chance to show it to her. I’ll never be the man to ask why – that’s just too weak for me. Why is what victims ask, why is what fools ask, why is for babies and old people. But if I could ask something, it wouldn’t be why, but what. As in, What the hell just happened?!?! I guess that could count as a why, though, huh? Fuck it, why did this happen to us?

Indians, Cleveland
The team known as the 2007 Cleveland Indians died Sunday night at a Boston area hospice. They were 3.

Known as an excitable bunch, they overcame many odds throughout their short lives, but a debilitating genetic disease - chokeritis (also known as Lymph-based Operatic Swallowing Syndrome) - caused the entire team’s throats to constrict in their sleep, and they died peacefully after a three game illness.

The team is preceeded in death by the 2005 Indians, and several 1980s Cleveland Browns teams, who suffered from the same ailment, and the 2007 Cleveland Cavaliers, who were murdered in a now infamous San Antonio execution.

Survived by former Indians Manny Ramirez and CoCo Crisp.

Services will be held at Jacobs Field on Monday, with memorial services to be announced on ESPN at 11 p.m., and again at midnight, with a third service held at 2 a.m. for those on the west coast. In lieu of flowers, donations should be made to the C.C and Fausto Need Some Outs fund, or the Travis Hafner Lil’ Bats club.

I’m with Bron
I’ll never cross the picket line dividing Cleveland fans from sellout converts, but I understand LeBron. Why would you wanna root for some loser ass teams from Cleveland? They lose big, they lose small, they lose historically, they lose typically. They just lose. No matter what sport, no matter the odds, they freakin lose.

LeBron is a winner … maybe not ever with the Cavs, but he relates to winning. So rooting for the Yankees or Cowboys makes sense. It’s chic to root for a Charlie Brown, but what does that bring but heartbreak! And also, why should the place of my birth dictate what teams I root for? What if I was born in Iceland? There ain’t no football teams in Iceland! Should I just avoid the sport?

Seriously. If you root for Cleveland, every 3-4 months you’re mourning another lost season, usually in dramatic fashion.

No place else in the country is like that. Chicago has the Cubs, but they also had the Bulls, Bears and White Sox. Arizona has the Cardinals, but also has the D’Backs, who won a Series recently.

If you’re a fan of Cleveland sports teams, your best hope is to buy a video game, juice up the teams, change the settings to easy, and tee off on the opposition, cause that’s the only way to guarantee wins. Otherwise, pick up some black from your nearest team shop. It will surely come in handy.

Uh, but they can really run fast!

DNA expert James Watson is reaping a bit of bad press for comments that … well, just read:

LONDON — The American scientist at the center of a media storm over comments suggesting that black people were not as intelligent as whites said Thursday he never meant to imply that the African continent was genetically inferior, adding that he was mortified over the attention his words had drawn.
James Watson, who won the Nobel Prize for co-discovering the molecular structure of DNA, has been sharply criticized in Britain for reportedly saying tests showed Africans did not have the same level of intelligence as whites.
In its profile of Watson, The Sunday Times Magazine quoted him as saying he was “inherently gloomy about the prospect of Africa” because “all our social policies are based on the fact that their intelligence is the same as ours — whereas all the testing says not really.”

I don’t know what people are thinking when they suddenly decide to go all Michael Richards, but this man’s expertise is DNA! You think that he’d know better than to make judgments such as this based on any test, even (and especially) if the test he’s discussing is his own.

But Watson isn’t unfamiliar with saying dumb shit. Read on …

Watson has caused controversy in the past, reportedly saying that a woman should have the right to abort her unborn child if tests could determine it would be homosexual.

He also suggested a link between skin color and sex drive, proposing a theory that black people have higher libidos.

So black people are dumber, and we just love to screw, huh? I wonder if his “research” has determined that blacks also have a predisposition to bad credit.

The apple fell from the tree, down the hill, around the bend and …
George Steinbrenner’s heir apparents, Hank and Hal, have already flopped in their first big decision as head honchos of the New York Yankees. Well-liked home-bred coach Joe Torre, who led the team back from a awful 21-29 open to the season, only to see them get smashed by (ha, ha!) the Cleveland Indians, got railroaded out of town.

The leadership group offered Torre a new 1-year deal at a 23 percent pay cut. If that wasn’t enough, they added “performance-based” contract incentives, something that seems absurd for a coach who has led the team to the playoffs 12 straight years. This being NY, of course, the World Series is all the elistist Yankee owners can stomach. So Torre is a failure, by that logic, by not having led the team to a win in seven seasons. Some of the failings of the team may be Torre’s fault, but he did not deserve to be handled like some out-of-town bum; led into town blindfolded, then beaten and ridiculed, all so some weakminded fools can wipe their hands of guilt. No, my poor Yankee leaders … you have done a no-good thing, and you will reap the ill tidings your actions deserve.

Update
Recall how I wanted to see several summer blockbusters, but saw only one? I’m slowly catching up, having now seen the “Fantastic Four” sequel and “Transformers.”

In a few words, the “Fantastic Four” was light on plot, light on the Silver Surfer and light on comedy. “Transformers” was heavy on coolness (it’s the real voice of Optimus Prime!), heavy on comedy (seeing the autobots hiding around the Witwicky house was hilarious), and actually tugs at a few emotions along the way. The only near tiebreaker is that “Four” had Jessica Alba and “Transformers” had Megan Fox. Actually, that’s a loss for “Four” because if Alba’s stunningness can’t defeat this newbie, the chances for “Four” of being watchable go into the crapper.

“I ain’t dead yet, well now I am!”
Joey Bishop, the last living member of the famed Rat Pack from 50 years ago has died at age 89. He outlived Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr. and Peter Lawford. According to the story, Bishop was the comedic talent behind the group.
Comedian Sandy Hackett said “He’d come up with something funny and they’d go, That was great, Joey,’ and then the next night one of them would use it and he’d have to come up with another joke.”

The teams came onto the field, and the rout was on …
The Boston Red Sox touched Indians pitcher Fausto Carmona for 7 earned runs in three innings. At the time I write this, the game is 10-1 Sox. Hopefully the team will give me reason to update it …

Remember me?
It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get a scroll out to you all, but here it is. And here I am. Still alive. Still Ryu. Still pissed, cause there’s more killin to do. Rachel is gone. Her sister tried me again, but this time she did not get spared of my blade. The only thing that saved her was the ounce of pathos within me. I left her laying there with Rachel, who had fallen into Doku’s now spritual hands. I would have my revenge on him later, as much as one can hope to kill a phantasm. In return for defeating him - AGAIN - he cursed me with Fiendish essence. All that means is that I’m blue, and REALLY ANGRY. I currently stand at the gates of all evil, with the Dark Dragon blade within sight.
I’ve had to defeat many enemies, and have expended much of my own life essence in the process, but the vengeance within me serves as my fuel, and with that, I will conquer this latest foe: A huge angelic creature with horns and blue orbs feeding its thirst for my death.
After this, there is one chapter left, but first, these minions must die. Then I can finally face my ultimate enemy: The evil King of Vigoor!

- Ryu Out

Cleveland in the spotlight
Don’t get this confused, it’s not a ode to sport. In fact, it’s just one writer’s opinion on why sports matters to him. Two of my hometown teams won, one in spectacular fashion. The Cleveland Indians, despite having both 19 game winners - C.C. Sabathia and Fausto Carmona - implode against the Red Sox - got a win Saturday by scoring a record seven runs in the top of the 11th, thanks in large part to the efforts of Eric Gagne, who has gone from shutdown closer, to situational reliever, to big bust within a couple seasons.

The Browns, yeah those Browns, won another one of their wild ones, 41-31 over the Miami Dolphins, in a game that wasn’t as close as the score indicates. They led 24-3, leading coach Romeo Crennel to speak of fighting against “overconfidence.” The word overconfidence and the Browns?!?! Talk about oxymoronic! This team, mostly made up of the same sad saps from last year’s pitiful 4 win season, now have 3 wins, 2 within the division, and look like they can close out some games.

The Cavs, well, nothing really to report yet, but that LeBron has not injured himself. Anything else doesn’t really matter much…

College craziness
I don’t rank college football too highly on sports I follow as a general rule. But loving football as much as I do, I can’t help but pay attention to THIS particular season, where USC, LSU, Oklahoma, Cal, Michigan and about 15 or so other title hopefuls have lost at least one game thus far, leading the University of South Florida (who have had their program up for only 11 years!) to the No. 2 position in the initial BCS rankings. That’s amazing. The University of Kentucky, Cincinnati, and Kansas - all known as basketball powers, are a combined 18-2 at this point, while Nebraska, Notre Dame and the U (aka the University of Miami) are 9-12, and no one’s talking about any of them in any way other than “Blockbuster Bowl Game invitee” and maybe not even that, in Notre Dame’s case.

See a nigger, flee a nigger
Why you wanna be a nigger?
Easier to be, you figure?
Banging women, catchin’ cases
Cummin in those chicken’s faces
Dodgin the law, smackin a jaw,
Hiding out in different places
Why you wanna be a nigger, living how a nigger live?

Niggas think banging raw is something to be proud of,
Niggas think prison time make em hard,
Niggas think that shit is something to speak loud of,
I think nigga is just another word for retard.

Niggas always insist on doing shit backward,
Get a girl pregnant THEN fight for their rights.
Working things out ain’t a nigga’s forte,
That’s why niggas always up late at nights.

Catch a nigga selling dope, see him bleedin’ in the street
Hear that nigga cry for help, rewind and watch the game repeat.
See a nigga in his suit, hear his momma scream and cry,
See her raisin holy hell, askin “why my baby die?”

Niggas think responsibility is a 50 cent word,
Cain’t afford that on welfare.
When a nigga die, it’s all on the news …
But why don’t nobody really care?

I love me some niggas, because niggas are me,
But that don’t condone what they do,
So why is that so hard to see?

I love the word nigga
It reminds me where I’m from,
But by doing such a thing
It reminds me why we’re dumb.

See a nigga in the mirror, what you’re seeing is yourself.
Wanna try to flee a nigga, better get some help.

When I wrote this I had just finished watching another black man get arrested for murdering another black person on TV. I started thinking about all the cats from my hood who enjoyed, actually relished being thuggish, ruthless and, basically, the stereotype of what a nigger is considered to be. I wanted to be imflammatory, but also try to kick a little truth. I wanted to overuse the word, I wanted to say it in such a way as to seer it into the minds of people reading, while bringing to light the absurdity of the life of black men who choose this path.

It’s not a bad thing, folks, just make note that I’ve finally figured out how to categorize my entries. So, for all you people who just want to read From the Edge or want to go back and read my older (I like to think of them as more seasoned) work, simply click on the link marked From the Edge over to the right under the category header and viola! All you get is From the Edge. Same goes for Sports ,Poetry and the Chronicles. Here at the chillspot we’re doing everything we can to make you, our readers happy. Or something like that.

Feeling drained,
debrained,
like nothing matters,
nothing counts,
recount how I got here,
A little too much work,
A little too little play,
no way this is gonna work like this,
remember when a single kiss
could break my mood,
serve as my spiritual food,
but now my belly goes empty;
starved for the energy I give away too freely -
No one in my life seems to want to come see me -
only want to absorb my power,
Leave me stuck off in the cut;
Leave me stuck off in this rut -
Leave me alone forever, but
I’m much to clever to allow never
to enwrap me in complacency
or the stark inevitability of what could be
if being me, I was left in the impossibility
of not rising from the blackened sun
that killed the work that had been done.