I Don't Even Feel Like It, But...

In re-dedicating myself to this blog (yeah, this one that you're currently reading. Hi.) I have self imposed a 1 post weekly, minimum requirement. Really, I should post more. More than likely, I probably will. But I have to, at the very least make myself accountable for 1 post a week, no matter what. No matter what's going on or how busy or sick or in love I am. And it doesn't matter what it's about, as long as it's something. Okay? Okay.

Well, today I don't even feel like posting. And it's not even because I'm just too daggone lazy. I'm actually really busy and more important than me meeting my 1 post a week requirement is that I memorize like 137 new poems this week. Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration. Five. But five poems is a lot! When is the last time you memorized that many poems? That's what I thought. So it might as well be 261. [insert hair flip here]

All of this memorization is in preparation for a duo of northern Cali shows that I am doing with a few of my fellow Boom Girls, Tamara Blue, Simply Kat, Judy Holiday, and Jimetta Rose. If I can get all these poems in my head (which I will, once I finish this post), they're going to be amazing shows. If you live in or near Stockton or Oakland you should definitely make it a point to be present at Pierced Ear Poetry Slam (Oct. 20th) and/or Golden State Slam (Oct. 23rd), as both venues celebrate their anniversaries and give a stage to a fly collective of women. Doesn't that sound like fun? Of course it does. And a night of high quality entertainment, such as the kind we're about to provide can be obtained for the low price of a $10 ticket at the door! Isn't that a bargain? Of course it is!

Listen. I'm about to go wad these pages of poems up into ear canal sized cannons and shoot them into my ears so that a river of poignant words can flow from my mouth at these shows. In the meantime, don't forget that I have an actual website that you can visit to learn about all of my poetry doings and writings. Feel free to help yourself to the open buffet of detailed info for the October Boom Girls shows, below.

October 20th

Pierced Ear Poetry Slam

Hosted by The Saint

Plea for Peace Center

630 E. Webster Ave.

Stockton, CA 95202

7:30pm

$8 in Advance, $10 at the Door

October 23rd

Golden State Slam

Hosted by Nercity and Jelal

Grand Lake Coffee House

440 Grand

Oakland, CA 94510

7pm

$8 in Advance, $10 at the Door

Seriously Folks...

'Member when I used to do all that great blogging back in the day? Yeah. I'mma do that again. Starting now. Seriously, folks.

Okay, listen... Don't look at me like that.

I been busy! I'm sorry, okay? I promise to make it up to you with lots of introspection, observation, verbatim text message, copy and pasted email conversations, and tomfoolery. Just watch. You'll see.

Okay, so let's start. "What has that maniac, Nikki been up to?" you may have been wondering. Well, I lost my job, ended a 5 year long on and off relationship with my best friend, rode some planes, got swept off my feet, fell in love, coached a slam team, went to Nationals, hosted a weekly open mic, continued the daily task of staying fly till I die, raised a black girl to the ripe old age of 12 years old, had a girl steal my house key, and got proposed to. Currently, I is gettin' married, lookin' for a job, growing my hair into a glorious, awe-inspiring mane, tryin' to get my stolen house key back, and writing, writing, writing. Oh, and serving the Lord with gladness. This here blog is going to be a part of that "writing, writing, writing" I just mentioned. It's gonna be so good. Mmmh, mmmh, mmmh!

Banner near Harvard Square in Cambridge Massachusetts, advertising the 2011 National Poetry Slam

So, now that we're back to being friends and you don't hate me for abandoning you anymore, I'mma letcha know... I'm old. I've been observing this lil' trend in blogging where everybody is tumbling all over the place. Listen. I ain't got time. I don't know nothin' 'bout none of that. I'mma stay put right here and push these blog entries out of my nether regions the old fashion way. 'Kay? I tweet. I Facebook on occasion. That's about all you're gonna get out of me.

However, I digress. What I really wanted to say is that I'm about as happy as a preggo Beyonce and I'm really excited to be blogging and sharing my life with you again.

On another note, one of the reasons that I felt that it was important that I return to blogging was because of the many social and political happenings of the past few months. There is always some mess poppin' off. I am by no means an expert in the fields of political science, economics, government, or sociology, but I do often have opinions, some of which might be interesting to folks other than my friends and people that I talk to on a regular basis. I spend a lot of time wondering if I'm the only person who feels or thinks a particular way about what I hear and read, and writing is a really productive way to process all of the information and [attempt to] make sense of the world.

For that reason, I find it very fitting that I am re-dedicating myself to my blog on the night before the scheduled execution of Troy Davis. If you don't know who this young man is, please take a moment to familiarize yourself with his case, develop an opinion, and perhaps find ways to be vocal about what is going on. It only takes a minute to sign a petition or make a phone call. You can contact the Chatham County's District Attorney's office at the following numbers:

Telephone: 912-652-7308 Fax: 912-652-7328

Hopefully, I'll be boasting about victory in my next blog post. In the mean time, let's all call, petition, tweet, email, pray, and make some noise to save this man's life.

Red Stories

Back in the very end of the old year (also known as 2010, also more specifically known as December) the amazing poet/painter/storyteller/photographer, Jaha Zainabu asked me if I would be a part of her poetry reading, Red Stories. I turned into a super nova, imploded, and then became a black hole. That meant, "Yes, please, and thank you," which I'm really glad she understood.

A short time after that, Kevin Sandbloom was also asked to be a part of the night, and momentarily, I ceased to exist. When I returned to... existing, I felt nothing but gratitude and elation. Jaha is a force and Kevin has the best vibrato west of the Mississippi. And I get to be 1/3 of this trifecta of kick-ass. Please, don't be jealous.

Since that time, I've been recovering from my physical state of black hole-ness, regaining my ability to speak so I can do my poems ('cause you know black holes can't talk), and generally looking forward to being a part of Red Stories. Thanks to the swift passage of time, I don't have to look forward for too much longer. Red Stories is less than a week away! This is the part where you get excited, too. Here are the details so that you can join us for what promises to be a fun, moving, memorable night of poetry and music:

Jaha Zainabu Presents RED STORIES

featuring Kevin Sandbloom and Nikki Blak

Saturday, January 29 · 6:00pm - 8:30pm

3351 W. 43rd St., Los Angeles, CA 90008

$20 ($30 for couples... isn't that clever?)

Ummm... What Happened to February?

You may or may not have noticed that I didn't post not a one single solitary blog entry for the entire month of February. And you might be wondering, "What's up with that?!?" You might even be saying, "That's some ole bull, Nikki!"

Well to the last statement, I shall just respond with my crazy side-eye look, which will let you know that you need to hush up, 'cause I ain't got time for all that foolishness. What do you think I was doin' all February? Being historically black, of course... Oh, and watching American Idol. Besides, if you really cared about where I was all that time and what I was doing, you would have been following me on Twitter or calling all of my phone numbers all hours of the night, like Judy Holiday.

Anyway the past is the past and we can't get it back, so let's talk about new shit, like what I'm currently doing. I'm glad you asked. I'm working on my website, which will be coming so soon, it won't be able to pull out in time and you might get pregnant. Also, I've been planted at my desk all night, every night for the past few weeks editing my book and getting it all put together. I had a minor cover crisis, which has just been resolved as of a few hours ago, so the book is going to print this week. YAY! Besides that, I've got a gang of features that include a panel discussion at Loyola Marymount University about Women and Power, a set in Hollywood, and a feature in the Bay Area in early April. Feel free to contact me if you want more info. Also, feel free to contact me about the proper address to send gifts to, cause my Birthday is on Friday... And I'm not even playing about the gifts.

I SHOULDA HAD AN ABORTION: Tha Year in Review

2009 took it's sweet time gettin' on up outta here, didn't it? Well, I'm glad that bitch is gone, cause we 'bout to get it in in 2010! *giggles*

And apparently, that's exactly what I been doin', cause here we are, a week into tha year, and I'm just now doin' a blog entry. Shameful, really, but whatever. I got a life, people! And furthermore, you gotta understand that I gotta take time out between entries to replenish my reservoir of foolishness. That's how you get tha very best fuckery from me... but I digress...



Despite some tragedies and scandals, I guess tha past year wasn't really bad at all, especially on a personal tip. I kept myself a job, wrote some poems n' thangs, continued to Boom on these hoes (while simultaneously stunting. That shit ain't easy!), and generally lived my life like it was golden. Highlights of tha year included my friend Tamara's wedding, celebrating Naomi's 10th Birthday at tha Mos Def and Erykah Badu show on Labor Day Weekend, and in October, marking tha one year anniversary of my marriage to my apartment.

So, this is like tha best story about my husband -- I mean, my apartment... It was Halloween of 2008. I had been in my place for all of 31 days and my brother, Chas was here. I have a front and a back door and of course, my back door is in my kitchen (well, not really "of course"... I mean, I guess it could be somewhere else... but traditionally, that's where back doors are.) My desk and computer and whole work station area is also in my kitchen, so inevitably, that's where I spend most of my time. We had been having a bit of a heat wave (or is that really just normal for L.A in October? *confused face*), so all of tha windows and my back door was open and Chas and I were sitting in tha kitchen talking and then, all of a sudden, we hear this woman GOING OFF.

She was sobbing and yelling and just actin' an all around fool. I imagine she prolly rolled around on tha floor at some point, that's how much she was cuttin' up. Well, apparently, she was "arguing" with her man (I put that in quotation marks, cause really it takes two people to argue and we never heard him say anything). She was like, "YOU DON'T LOVE MEEEEEEEEE!!!! YOU NEVER LOVED ME!!!" and of course, Chas and I, bein' tha maniacs that we are, turned down tha music and went over to tha window and back door so we could really hear all tha juicy mess. So, she's goin' on and on and on, just actin a muthafuckin' fool, and then she was like, "I SHOULDA HAD AN ABORTIOOOOOOOON! I SHOULDA HAD AN ABORTIOOOOOON! [insert inaudible sobs here]"

Chas and I looked at each other like "OH SHIT!"

Bwahahahahahahaahahahahahaha!

Forreal, lady? Is that whut you shoulda done? Wow.

I certainly hope tha child she "should've aborted" was a little baby and didn't know what was goin' on and not like 17 in tha other room on tha PS3, like "Whut tha fuck???"

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

So, now that's our inside joke. When some shit don't go tha way we want it to or we're just generally unhappy, we throw our heads back like tha characters in Charlie Brown, fake sob, and shout, "I SHOULDA HAD AN ABORTION!" It's fun for tha whole family.



That story had absolutely nothing to do with tha New Year or anything else for that matter... I just felt like sharing.

Nikki, in Real Life

Sometimes I do poems. Here's tha proof...

Tha Great Tree Masacre of '09

If ever there was a time to quote Joni Mitchell, I'm pretty sure this is it.

They took all the trees
Put em in a tree museum
And they charged the people
A dollar and a half just to see em

However, let me say, I kno whut I've got before it's gone and don't you try to come take it away or I might hav to get rowdy.

This morning, I was abruptly snatched up outta my sleep by a sound that can only be described as a violent, motorized grinding. No, actually it sounded like my apartment was being eaten by a big ass blender. Better yet, it sounded like tha whole World was being consumed by a tornado of chainsaws -- concrete, buildings, trees and all. Well, I was right about tha trees and sort or right about tha chainsaws. When I went to my living room window and looked out, I could see tha Inglewood City worker men cutting away at this huge tree in front of my building. Okay. Trimming. It happens. Good city. Trim your trees. At 7:30 in tha morning, tho? Is that really necessary? Whutever. I went to get ready for work.

After finishing part of my morning ritual, I wandered back over to my living room window to see whut looked like some sort of giant grotesque stone hand, protruding from tha ground, clawing at tha sky. Clearly, a lot more than "trimming" had occurred. Every bit of this poor tree's foliage was gone and all that was left was trunk and branches. Ugly. I didn't want them to leave that monstrosity in front of my window, but it didn't entirely occur to me that they were going to completely cut a perfectly good tree down. Why would anybody do that? Duh.

Well, folks, I returned home from work to see that that's exactly whut they did. But they didn't stop at tha tree directly in front of my apartment. They kept going all tha way down tha block. Three big beautiful trees had been reduced to stumps and roots.



In tha middle of summer Inglewood? Really? And exactly whut purpose did this tree masacre serve? Does my neighborhood look better now? Can tha people that reside on my block now do something that we couldn't do before? Who's gonna breathe a sigh of relief or sleep more soundly tonight because finally, all those bothersome trees are gone?

Dumb. Asses.

Meanwhile, I've called several times to request that a stop sign be placed at tha deadly ass intersection at tha end of my block. Do I hav my stop sign, yet? Take a guess.



Great verbiage such as "livid", "angry", and even "pissed tha fuck off", don't do a good job of describing how mad I am. I can't quite articulate how vigorously I would like to slap tha individual(s) who came up with tha brilliant idea to chop down these trees and leave my street naked and scarred. And how much money in labor and machinery did they spend in tha destruction and disposal of these trees? But they can't come and put up a couple of stop signs to prevent me or someone else from dying at tha corner a few yards away?

Tha war path is whut I'm on... and you kno I'm familiar with and hav no problems goin down that road. I'm about to giv tha City of Inglewood THEE BUSINESS. Watch.

Granted, city personnel is often good for very little. However, if they can answer their phones (which they are successful at, most times), and if they can check their voicemail, then I'm pretty sure I'm about to get some results, cause they're about to get tired of hearing my voice. I'm calling everyday (sometimes several times a day, depending on how I crazy I feel) until I gets my muthafuckin stop sign. And I won't stop till I get it.

If, God forbid, I were to die tomorrow, I would call tha Inglewood City Public Works Hotline from my grave. I'm like tha Terminator. I'm like Bad Boy in tha 90's. And furthermore, "This mind, this body, and this voice cannot be stifled", word to Fiona Apple.

For now, I've titled this situation that I'm about to temporarily obsess over "Operation Avenge tha Trees". It might very well turn into an adventure. Needless to say, I'll keep ya'll updated as my sanity wears away and the fuckery escalates. It will.

Don't Judge Me!

I know, I know, I KNOW! I fell off...again. I'm sorry! I been busy! I'll reserve all tha details about whut happened with my poem a day and whut tha hell I been doin', while I was missing in action for basically all of tha month of May for another blog post. None of that is important now. There are two WAY more pressing issues.

#1



Erykah Badu at tha 2009 UCLA Jazz Festival in shiny black pants...



I was there. Yes, she did wear a hoodie with a hat on top. Yes, there was a black, satin sleeping cap under tha hoodie. Yes, she poured out a little liquor for tha homies that ain't with us. Yes, she did whut tha fuck she wanted, too.

Here's thing #2

...literally...it's a thing.



I DEFY YOU to look at this video for any length of time and tell me that this isn't at least one of tha top 5 gayest things you've ever seen with your own eyes. Tha only way this could become slightly more homo is if his clone came out and started dancing with him. And then if they had sex. This, folks, is tha reason why I blog.

Oh, and before I go...lemme go on ahead and give him tha Nigga Please Award. I'm pretty sure he deserves it.

Don't Act Brand New

This is for tha people that be tryin to act like I never have a daggone show anywhere and/or like I don't tell them where I'm about to be. If you miss it, it's on you, cause I told ya.