May 11, 2006

Why Do People Like India.Arie?

So I was flippin through AIM profiles today and came across someone quoting that India.Arie song where she talks about how she’s not her hair and all that good stuff.

She’s also not very talented. Whenever people talk to me about India.Arie, they always talk about how she says things that need to be said. We love that. We respect that. However, doesn’t anyone notice that what she says is heavy handed and written with minimal skill? (This applies to Alicia Keys somewhat, too. Couldn’t write her way out of a paper bag.)

I am not my hair! I’m not a girl in a video! I’m a queen!

(First of all, she’s not a queen and neither are you. I ain’t no king and neither is anyone I know. But that’s another post for another day.)

I guess I understand that women are forced to deal with so many negative images of themselves that there’s some measure of empowerment that comes from someone blatantly rejecting that stuff. However, that doesn’t mean that her music is any good. And her voice is, at best, capable.

(This also doesn’t mean that her music’s all bad. I think “Brown Skin” is incredible and I have good things to say about “Ready for Love.” “Video?” Shoot me before you make me listen to it again.)

So without talking about the positive qualities of her music, could someone please tell me what there is about India.Arie that deserves anyone’s attention?

Cuz if that’s all you’ve got, I need a record deal. My first single will be, “Don’t Be Tryin’ to Sell Me That Crack!” Guaranteed to be critically acclaimed by the green tea crowd.

Either way, someone please enlighten me. It’s not just that I don’t dig her stuff. I’m just at a bit of a loss when trying to understand what other people see.

May 10, 2006

Lazy, Shiftless Black Men

When I want to feel my hearbeat accelerate, I read Cynthia Tucker of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. She’s got that knack for raising my blood pressure. In a related aside, one of my daddy’s hobbies is shooting her angry e-mails to which she rarely answers.

Today while going through a few papers, I wound up on this column about lazy, shiftless black men. Try this one on.

After a contractor walked off the job, I was assigned the task of helping my mother find laborers to help complete her new house in my hometown, Monroeville, Ala., a small place with a declining textiles industry. The assignment led me into an alternative universe of black men without jobs or prospects or enthusiasm for hard labor.

My younger sister, an architect, appointed her Mexican-born father-in-law, an experienced carpenter (and American citizen), the new general contractor. I was to find men willing to help him paint, lift, scrape, fill, dig. The pay was hardly exorbitant — $6 an hour. But it seemed reasonable for unskilled labor. So I looked among unemployed high school classmates, members of my mother’s church and men standing on nearby street corners.

The experience brought me face to face with every unappealing behavior that I’d heard attributed to idle black men but dismissed as stereotype. One man worked a couple of days and never came back. One young man worked 30 minutes before he deserted. Others promised to come to work but never did.

Really, Cynthia? You mean to tell me that people aren’t amped up about doing backbreaking labor for less than I made working at The Gap seven years ago? You don’t say?

I have no idea what the going rate for that sort of work is, but I know I’ve got a quite a few friends that perform unskilled labor. They make more than six bones an hour, and a few of those folks do so without a high school diploma.

But that, friends, was her anecdotal evidence that there are more lazy black men than ever. Is that really the best she could come up with?

She later intimates that her mother wouldn’t pay more for the labor because she couldn’t afford to pay more. That sounds to me like she couldn’t afford to have a home built. But that’s just me.

I just want to know how in the world this was enough to use as an example of the ineptitude of black men. Is there anyone here down to do that stuff for six bucks an hour? Am I just being sensitive here?

Here are questions I wanna ask.

1. Isn’t it a bit simple to chastise these “idle” men rather than considering why they’re idle? Economists account for labor market disillusionment and actually see it as rational behavior. I’d be more curious why these cats she discusses are disillusioned rather than automatically doggin’ ‘em for being disillusioned.

2. Would anyone think to write such a thing about any other group? Got a secret for you…there’s a lot of white men sitting on their asses, too.

May 9, 2006

Stadium Arcadium–Does It Kill the Album Concept?

The Red Hot Chili Peppers Stadium Arcadium finally hits stores today, I believe. Since the group was pretty angry that the album was leaked, let’s just say I went and got it at a midnight sale and squeezed a week’s worth of listening to it into twelve hours.

Some reviews have said it’s their magnum opus, even a step over Blood Sugar Sex Magik. That’s saying a whole lot, but I could see how someone would say that. If you like your RHCP with more melody and pop sensibility, then this record might be better. If you’re a funkateer and like that sound, then BSSM is the way for you to go. Being a funk fan, I still take BSSM over this one. But this one’s fire.

It’s best appreciated as a career retrospective. It’s mammoth in size–approaching 30 tracks–but fairly limited in scope, largely because there ain’t much that Anthony Kiedis can do with his voice or lyrics. But he is a helluva frontman, so he does his job. It doesn’t really cover lots of thematic ground, but it’s a great blend of the sounds of Californication, By The Way and BSSM. If someone has never heard RHCP, you can give them this record (after you beat them profusely for living under a rock) and they can see what those boys have done for the last fifteen years.

The best part–John Fruschiante, one of my all-time favorite guitarists. Why? Because of all the world’s Hendrix disciples, he picked up on the fact that Jimi’s greatest talent was playing these dreamy solos without abandoning the structure of the song. Fruschiante and Hendrix didn’t quite do solos, really. They did thematic extensions of the existing melodies. Sounds a lot less like showing off, and that’s a good thing.

But I say all that to get us into allmusic.com’s review of the record. I don’t agree with much of it–mostly the knock on Rubin, who’s skill is stripping records down and flattening them out enough to make outlandish sounds accessible–but an interesting point was raised.

In fact, like how Blood Sugar was the tipping point when the LPs ceded ground to CDs, Stadium Arcadium could be seen as the point when albums were seen a collection of digital playlists. Yes, it’s pressed up as a two-disc set — including an extravagant but pointless special edition housed in a clunky box that includes a make-yer-own-spinning-top — but this is an album that’s designed for you to mix and match, create your own playlist, rip and burn on your own. It’s designed for you to sequence its 28 songs in some kind of cohesive manner, since the band sure didn’t take the time to do that here; it’s the first major album by a major band that makes as much sense on random as it does in its proper sequencing.

That’s a really interesting point. Is the album dead? If it is, what does that mean?

I’ve long said that the album was pop music’s most important technological advance. Instead of treating songs as one-off entities made to be sold individually, the album allowed artists to indulge interesting sonic and intellectual interests and put them together to make broad yet individual statements. Instead of writing essays, musicians began writing books. They were able to try new things, but also able to put them in frameworks that made them easier to appreciate, analyze and understand. I love the ebbs and flows of a well-sequenced album, and it’s the one thing I missed when I got all digital (and before it became so easy to download albums in their entirety instead of having to get each track individually and then sequence the songs).

The most famous example of a group’s allegiance to the album would probably be “Stairway to Heaven,” which Zeppelin refused to release as a single because they said it couldn’t be appreciated outside the fabric of IV. In a way, they’re right. It hits even harder when it comes behind “The Battle of Evermore,” and the same can be said about how “When the Levee Breaks” hits following “Going to California.”

But when I listen to Stadium Arcadium, I do sorta see what the above reviewer said. I’ve listened to this record in sequence and on random, and it didn’t feel seriously different. It was no more or less enjoyable, but it surely wasn’t different.

Is this where music is going? Are we going to reach the point where the album becomes irrelevant and, in an interesting bit of anachronism, we go back to jumbles of songs? And is that a good thing? That’s going to be something I think about.

For the record, I don’t think this RHCP record is a hodgepodge of stuff, and I don’t find it to be too repetitive. Again, it’s Kiedis. I know I’m not going to get a lot of thematic variance from him. And that’s just fine with me because that’s what he does. I listen to RHCP for that incredible band, and they’re incredible here.

But if the album dies, I’m not sure how I’ll feel about that. No matter what, this has been a great year for music, IMO. Already gotten five albums I’ll be listening to for a while–Tip’s, Juve’s, E-40’s (never thought I’d say that), Ghosface’s, and now this RHCP.

And Kast drops in June!

May 8, 2006

MAIL CALL!!!

Welcome to the “Akeelah and the Bee” mail call. Surprisingly, not one wacko racist popped up in my inbox. I figured this one was sure to get one since some other benign pieces have drawn the ire of fools in various places. None this time, though.

(Go down a couple entries to find the piece. Too tired to be linking.)

What I did get was a really interesting cross-section of folks that appreciated the perspective of the piece. Not just black folks, though. Check this one from Michael.

Dear Bomani,

Congratulations, and thank you, for a *tremendously* well-written article. I’ve posted the link on my personal blog, so some friends can have the opportunity to read it and pass it along. I just hope that ESPN won’t bury it in the Insider archives for all time, because it’s a disservice in this case.

As a very bright Caucasian child growing up in suburbia, I really had no context for understanding the travails of intelligent black children in a non-suburban setting. Although I lived a kind of isolation because of my intelligence, it took me a long while to understand that in many cases, self-believed isolation is something of a rite of adolescence and finding one’s way in the world.

In any event, having a window into a culture that paralleled my own is a welcome discovery. I’m glad to learn a little more and to have your insights, and it’s refreshing to know that “acting white” is more anecdotal than real. It gives me a bit more hope and understanding than I had yesterday. Keep up the good work!

Next is Jose from Ann Arbor, who also writes for the paper at the U of M.

Your review especially hit close to home when you wrote, “As years went on, I saw what was going on. A lot of the people who I thought didn’t like me didn’t like me not because I was smart but because I spent too much time telling them I was smart. Nobody likes a show-off.”

I had the same problem when I was in middle school. The teasing got so bad that my mother had to call one of my 6th grade teachers to ask her why the kids were being so mean. Fortunately my teacher was honest with my mother and told her why I was being teased so much: I was being a show-off. Not only did I spend too much time making sure everyone knew I was smart, I also made sure they knew I was Puerto Rican. But not until after having a conversation with my mother did I finally learned that very life lesson and since then my life has been considerably better.If it hadn’t been for that moment in my life, I probably wouldn’t be where I am today. Currently, I am a junior at the University of Michigan and I am an aspiring sports journalist.

So, I want to thank you, not only for a fine review, but for also reminding me of why I want to go into journalism: to be able to make a difference in someone’s life through my words, even if it is just one reader.

(That ending was very kind of him, btw.)

Check this from Hardell, who I’m sure would rap as MC Hardazzell.

As someone who grew up in much of the same fashion, I
have to commend your article. If anything you have
given me reason to see a movie that I would have
merely dismissed. Its nice to know that an experience
that is so rarely mentioned yet so frequently shared
is finally being immortalized. Thank You for bringing
this to my intention

The following two are the most interesting. They’ll introduce themselves.

I’m Doug Atchison, the writer/director of AKEELAH AND THE BEE. Thank you
for your thoughtful words about a movie that has taken me more than 10 years
to bring to the screen. First, I appreciate you identifying my film as a
“sports movie” which is exactly how I designed it. Hopefully it will be
portrayed more like this in the media. And I also want to thank you for
your thoughtful analysis of the way in which I portrayed Akeelah and her
peers. I put much effort into trying to tell this story accurately and
compassionately, and your words make me feel I achieved my goal.

May many others be inspired to go see AKEELAH because of your review.

And another. This is from Danny Llewellyn

I’m one of the producers on Akeelah and the Bee. I just read your article on ESPN.com, our director forwarded it to me. I’m thrilled to hear you liked our movie, though that’s not the sole reason I’m writing to you. I just wanted to tell you how rewarding it was to read such a thoughtful analysis of our film. Your ability to further expound perspective by articulating your own life experiences made it all the more enlightening. We’ve had some modest praise for our film so far, but never have I felt compelled to write to someone to thank them for understanding why we made this movie. Your article changed that. Thank you.

If you haven’t seen it, I again recommend you check it out. I had more than a few people tell me they saw it after my recommendation and were pleased that they did. I’m no movie critic, but I really think this is a great one.

May 5, 2006

25 Strong No Limit Records

Sorry this didn’t come earlier, but my computer keeps being overrun by the Blue Screen of Death. I’m really sick of that.

Anyway, I find No Limit Records is the butt of many jokes about the mid-’90s. I mean, there were plenty of good reasons to do that. Lots of bad records, but that’s the be expected when artists are turning out 26-track albums every nine months or so.

However, there was some serious heat put out by that label, so I’m going to try to name 25 of those songs. There’s a good chance I’ll have to stop sooner, though.

Important caveat–only doing records made on No Limit. No stuff from Mystikal’s first record, but definitely the good stuff from when Snoop was on the Tank (Bitch Please, namely). So let’s roll.

Make Em Say Uhhh. I hear this was a big hit across the country. I have to say it like that because I lived in Atlanta during ‘97, so everything No Limit was a hit. This was an unequivocal banger, though. The song that finally made people admit that some of the stuff off the Tank was hot. However, dunking on an 8-foot rim in the video was embarrassing, especially considering that P is actually pretty tall.

Akickdoe!. Featuring UGK. You’ll find that No Limit/UGK collabos were always winners. This from C-Murder’s surprisingly good record, Life or Death.

The Man RIght Chea. Good cut from Mystikal. Big problem–sounds too much like “Here I Go,” but isn’t nearly as good.

No Limit Soldiers. One major part of the No Limit branding formula was to lead each album off with a song proclaiming loyalty to the Tank. This was probably the best one. Sad part–Itaught myself to play the beat on a piano. I don’t play piano.

You Don’t Wanna Go to War With a Soldier. See the above formula, but from Mia X’s strong Unlady Like. Too bad I can’t remember too many other songs off that one. And I wasn’t wild about “The Party Don’t Stop,” so I ain’t puttin’ it on this list.

Where You From. That goddam Skull Duggery. This is a classic, and anyone that doesn’t agree is lying.

Fuck Dem Niggaz. Originally on Snoop’s No Limit Top Dogg, but so good that P put it on C-Murder’s second record when the label began to flounder. Featured the drastically underrated Magic. Speaking of Magic…

Freaky. Magic gave us a really, really good sex record with this one.

Hot Boys and Hot Girls. Featuring many of the usual suspects, but people forget Mac’s blazin’ verse on this one. Don’t expect another one for a long time. I’m pretty sure he’s still in jail for a murder that there’s serious evidence that he didn’t commit.

Bitch Please. Another from No Limit Top Dogg. People don’t think of it as a No Limit record because it was produced by Dre and features Xzibit, but it showed that P did have some savvy. After pumping Snoop into his assembly line, he realized that he couldn’t market Snoop the same way. He let Snoop put out a Snoop record instead of a No Limit joint, and this was the song that showed that P had a better handle on things than most of us realized.

How You Do Dat. Well, this isn’t really a No Limit record. The story goes that Young Bleed already recorded and, I believe, released this song when P came calling and wanted to put it on the soundtrack to “I’m Bout It.” Bleed said he’d only do so if he got a one album deal. He got the deal, went gold and was never heard from again. How far did he fall? I got a snippet tape from his second album when I was in college, and the cat that gave it to me looked really familiar. After thinking, I realized who handed it to me–Young Bleed.

Pick a song from Mr. Serv-On. It’s been forever since I heard his record, so I can’t say a song in particular. However, the record was off the chains. For real.

Freak Hoes. Another that could have made the list of songs I’m ashamed for liking. However, it makes the girls bounce they asses and touch they knees with they elbows.

It Ain’t My Fault. It’s taking everything in me to acknowledge that Silkk Da Shocker did anything good. But htis one is good, and he was on it. Not sure he had a lick to do with making it good, but he’s on the song.

Ice Cream Man. NOT!!!! Biter alert!!! Ask the Luniz about this one. What up, Dame!

Hoody Hoo. NOT!!! Biter alert!!! Ask OutKast about this one. The biting was so bad that Big Boi called P out on stage at the Birthday Bash in Atlanta about that. I argue that was the day the No Limit empire officially crumbled into the sea.

The Mercedes Album Cover. They put a picture of her bending over with her ass facing the camera in every album they had for about two years. The record SUCKED. However, anyone that remembers No Limit remembers this album.

Shake it Like a Dog. Kane and Abel’s best cut, perhaps the most Un-cut video before Ludacris’ “P-Poppin.” The song actually wasn’t released on No Limit, but I’m pretty sure it was recorded during that time.

For the N.O. From the tragically slept on Fiend.

Ain’t No Limit. Okay, stuff off Mystikal’s Unpredictable is hard to put on this list because it wasn’t produced by Beats by the Pound (it was an album done as a joint venture between No Limit and Jive). However, nobody can front on “A-I-N-T-N-O-L-I-M-I-T!…”

Swamp Nigga. For real, TRU 2 Da Game was off the chains. Interestingly, it was sold as a double but was shorter than many No Limit single discs.

‘Bout It ‘95. That synthesizer on “‘Bout It” was legendarily added when KLC’s daughter played around with his equipment, prompting him to spank her…but go back and work with what she’d done. It’s incredible. And it’s better than the version done on Ice Cream Man. But gracious, why did Cam’Ron decide to even though this? He just messed it up. He just messed it up.

Break Em Off Something. Yeah, this is the winner. The beat kills. P’s first bar is part of the Southern canon. Pimp C rips it. And my goodness, Bun B. “You can call on the cavalry/reinforcements/and the local PD/they gettin somewhere if they see me/my nigga, that’s how these G’s be/we three/Me, C and Master P/sippin on gin and kiwi…” Whoo!

Stoppin at 23. Harder than I thought, but there was a lot good from No Limit. There was just more bad. That wouldn’t have been a problem if P would have put out albums of traditional length instead of just putting so much stuff on there HOPING that one song would make someone buy the album.

But that’s the list. Interesting mail call on Monday.

May 4, 2006

Important Note on that Piece

After reading the edited version, I want to make sure something wasn’t misrepresented–not everyone I went to school with growing up was black. More white folks than black, actually, but there were lots of black folks. When I mentioned the folks that were happy for me, I wanted to make sure to specify those were black people. But I can see how someone would read that and think that I went to school with nothing but black people, and that’s not true. I didn’t lie to you, but that was ambiguously phrased. For that, I apologize.

And lots of white people would be happy for me, too. Just wanted to make sure that was clear.

May 4, 2006

Akeelah and Bomani

Business…here’s my look at “Akeelah and the Bee.”

Comment as you see fit.

May 3, 2006

Mentoring, Continued Somberly

Business…around 7:20 EDT, I’ll be on the radio with Roger Brown on Soul 730 in Dallas. No online feed, from what I can tell, but tune in if you’re in that area. Or tell your folks, especially if they happen to be one of the many relatives I have in the Metroplex whose numbers I can’t find.

Moving on, I left off a mentor on the list yesterday. That would have been Mr. Kirby, who owned the barbershop where I used to hang out when I was growing up. Like most folks, the barbershop was my introduction to public discourse and debate, and Kirby was always cool enough to let me participate even though I was about ten years old or so. And he even pretended to listen. In return, I wowed the people there with my skills at Jeopardy! It was a fair trade.

In fact, my first job was at Kirby’s. I told him I wanted to try to make some extra bread shining shoes in the shop, and he was okay with it. He was more than okay with it, in fact. He even brought in a shoe shine stand he had in his house for me, even though he knew damn well nobody wanted to pay for that. Occasionally someone would, and Mr. Kirby made sure I wasn’t messing up. As did the cats in the shop. You know how it goes–everybody in the shop knew how to do everything better than whoever was doing whatever. Just part of life.

He also used to chip me a buck of two for any errand I’d run, whether it was sweeping the floor or bringing him something to eat. He was also nice enough not to count his change. Good looks on that…even though I never got him. I don’t think I did, at least.

But that cat was always really good to me. For a while, I’d wondered how he was doing. After I graduated from high school, I didn’t make it back out to where I went to school very much and hoped to do so this year and catch up with him and a few other people.

Unfortunately, my father sent me an e-mail yesterday and let me know that Mr. Kirby passed away a few weeks ago. I’d always worried about that in the back of my mind. When you’re a kid, everyone’s old, so it’s hard to gauge just how old people really are. Even now, it seems strange to me that he was old enough to pass, even though everyone’s old enough to pass.

Til the other side, Mr. Kirby.

One good thing, though–I wrote a piece a few years ago about how the barbershop affected my life and really prepared me for the work I do now. If I recall, my parents made sure someone sent the piece his way and he got a chance to peep it.

Moral of that story–better tell your folks what they mean to you. Shit’s really that fleeting.

As for that piece, it’s evaporated from the Internet since BV eradicated the Africana archives. Here’s a PDF of the my unedited copy. Note–written about five or six years ago. Not genius, but you can feel what I’m saying.

May 2, 2006

Mentoring

Mentoring is a tricky thing. Most of us are lucky if we have someone that’s down to help us grow as people and professionals. But we’re only lucky if that person does that for us, not for themselves. Martin Luther King once said that, “without love, benevolence becomes egotism.”

And that’s real as steel.

There are a few younger cats–and a couple older ones, too–that look to me for help and advice on handling their careers. What I feel best about, though, is that those cats also ask me questions about life. I could be wrong, but they appear to respect my opinion on the world and understand that I’ll only tell them things to help them out. I’ve got a nephew, godson and lots of other folks in my circle that I help out with various things. I would tell them the same things I tell young writers that hit me up because I have nothing to gain from helping them than helping them. Doesn’t really make me feel good about myself to do that. I just know a lot of people have gone out of their ways to help me, and I’d be wrong not to do that for other people.

So who are the people that helped me get here? Quite a few, actually. I’ll list them here and the things they’ve done to help me get to this little place I’m in. The big thing I hope younger folks can take from that is recognizing certain things to look for when hearing an older head talk. Ain’t all them cats out to do good for people. Many stroke their egos while they claim to be building yours.

So listen close when they talk.

The Parental Unit. I don’t even know where to start on this one. The biggest thing I learned–it is possible to be successful without compromising your principles. But the biggest thing–I saw how the house always seemed to have a former or present student hanging around. Those folks would just be glad to be around the parents, and the parents were glad to be around them. They were selfless in helping them, and the love they got back showed how important that was to people.

But how did they help me, aside from three hots and a nice roof? They managed to make sure I handled my business without pressuring me with their considerable reputations. In fact, I didn’t know how big people thought they were until I got older. They just wanted me to get better at things because getting better helped me. That’s beautiful.

The Big Brother. Here’s the coolest thing about my brother–he’s straight with me all the time. If something’s good, he’ll say it. If not, he’ll say it. If good with bad parts and vice versa, he’ll say it. Even if I don’t agree with what he says, I always listen because I know it’s sincere. It is from him that I learned a very important part of this world–game.

Mrs. Turlington. I actually need to find out if she’s still alive and, if so, thank her. She taught my 5th grade English class. The most demanding teacher I’ve ever had. Super old-school, which drove me batty when I was 9. And man, I wouldn’t be doing this were it not for her. Came out of her class with a fantastic foundation for writing, and I really need to thank her for that.

Coach Hendrix. Did a little too much screaming, but that’s what basketball coaches do. And even though I never turned into much of a basketball players, I sure as hell know the game. And that’s come in handy in my line of work.

Mrs. Moore. I’d say a lot, but she reads this. I ain’t about to blow her head up.

R-Dub. If you read this page frequently, you know how I feel about the Dub. He put me down with ESPN.com and I didn’t even ask him to. But most importantly, he actually took the time to read my earlier pieces, tell me what to fix, and really helped make me better. I have no idea where he got the time for that, but it really took me a long way.

Hughes and Hasan. In the black folks office in Claremont. Met them in Cali, my first try at adulthood. And they told me how I needed to kick it. Still live by that stuff, too. Good looks, fellas.

Dr. Jenkins and Mrs. Morgan. College professors that took the time to put their arms around me when things got bad in college. Didn’t have a lot of people able to do that and get through to me, but they did. They’re the reason I don’t live at the bottom of a bottle.

Sandy Darity y Familia. In my academic life, I had the privilege of studying under a foremost authority on the economic issues I found important. Most important–he treated me like family. But he also schooled me on the academic hustle, introduced me to good looking women, and helped me deal with some intermittent issues that have come up since I got here. That’s a good man, married to a woman that he has no business with. And he knows that, making him an even smarter man.

Ralph Byrns. Kept me sane in graduate school when I could feel my soul slipping away. The amazing thing was that of all the people I met at Carolina, I was most similar to a 60+-year old white man from West Texas that wrote a textbook with the father of one of the South Park creators. Learned a lot from him.

And it wasn’t just me. Post up in front of Gardner Hall and you’ll see him doing that for a million different people.

Editors, damn near all of you. Particularly Kate Tuttle, Phillippe Wamba (RIP), Gary Dauphin, Ken Gibbs, Zakia Carter, David Cole and Michael Knisley. Each made me a much, much better writer. They did that largely for themselves–their jobs depended on me doing good work–but I remain cool with those I no longer work with and love working with those I still write for. I don’t think other people feel that way, but that might be because they don’t like being edited. Tricky one that is.

You know, I’m realizing this is a really long list. I’m a really lucky sumbitch, lemme tell ya. If you got folks that look out for you like that, appreciate it. Most people aren’t that fortunate. Just take notes when they talk and say thank you when they’re finished. And do the same thing the next time they talk.

But if they ain’t got you at heart, leave ‘em be. Just being older means nothing when it comes to being a mentor.

May 1, 2006

New Piece

Business….here’s that piece I mentioned on Duke and Durham. Warning–it’s about 3,000 words.

And if you get the chance, go see “Akeelah and the Bee.” Really, really good movie, one that I think a lot of people need to see.