When VooDo Won't Do

Inspiring me to do a little Bite-Me-Map, Liane Kupferberg Carter said it well in her short story, "A Room of My Own", published in this month's issue of Skirt Magazine.

"Writing was my refuge. Writing pinned the chaos to the page; it made it containable and manageable."

Right now so many of my friends are going though what seems to me to be a "re-birthin." Changes are out there, forcin'um out of the comfort of the familiar and sendin'um, one contraction at a time into another phase of life.

While I never birthed anything but a few ideas and some strange art, I do have a vague memory of the process. It's not comfortable and the birth canal is tricky to navigate. But bottom line is, there is only one way out so keep your hands and feet close and just keep "go'in to the light."

These days, I'm just a shadow boxer and it's hard because, there's not much I can actually do, but let'um know I have their back. Earlier today I wrote Lushious and told her to just imagine a great big bugger (how does one spell that crusty thing that falls from the nose) on the lip of the person givin her grief. Look'um right in the face and see it there...while that won't do a darn thing to change the situation, it will put a smile on her face and we all know that those who pretend to be superior, hate it when you smile like that. It'll also help to lightly brush your own nose a time or two, folks always fall for that one. My favorite was when I used to motion to my Nemitoad, "Miss Thang" and then brush at the corner of my lip; and then she'd mirror me and say, "Do I have somthin' on my lip?" Then I'd say, "Yeah, bullshit." Worked every time! Now she didn't write my checks or anything, but it gave us a good laugh and got her off her high horse so we could continue with the work that had to be done.

Changes are hard, especially when the whole picture is so confusin', but I firmly believe that Miss Universe don't play. So to my friends havin' to put up with BS right now, it's time to pin the bugger on the "Donkey" and know that karma is a thing in the makin'.

Just Send'um Outside

That Mojo Cake Baby gits around. I was thinkin I could try and track the Mojo as it moves about the neighborhood. This is surely a photo throwdown to you VeraLee. I caught that child outside playin' in the snow covered Mandingoes, probably tryin' to cool her butt off after bein cooked in that King Cake the other night.
Where...will (s)he turn up next?

Is your Mojo workin?

VeraLee and I don’t “wish” for a parkin spot or, “hope” we find a four-ply cashmere sweater while junkin, we expect our pure intention assisted by Miss Universe is enough to get the job done. It’s our Mojo. We discussed this the other day while on a Two-Bit Teena Second-hand tour.

We figure our job is to actively look and listen, cause Miss Universe never fails. There are days she is slower to answer than others, but we figure that’s an answer too, and then there are days when we laugh cause she reminds us to “be careful what you set your intentions on cause you may not know where to put it if you got it.”

Bein’ a Mojonista means bein careful…and slow to anger, nobody want’s to be responsible for spewin bad Mojonese in a moment of “unfitness.”
I don’t like the word “lucky” mostly cause of the undertoad which is ”Unlucky”. Veralee and I think that basically you have to take an an active part in makin your own fortune.

Now I realize I have spoken for her here, but she is in a reflective state this week and is livin in her head, not commitin to paper or action. She’s washin out some bad mojo I fear, but promises to come back stronger and wiser next week.