Excuse the brevity and scattered nature of what you’re about to read. It’s late/early. The sun has not yet come up.  These are the moments I must salvage to be creative - I’m up editing a documentary and planning for the website and my plan was to also edit the three (count them: 3) new baby blogs that were all unfinished because the baby has been sick.

This being our fist baby and our first sickness we work in our strengths. My wife does everything and l look worried and ask what can I do.

Since I don’t have the body full of milk and the hairier face I am the legs of the family. The “could you get me the…”  guy  I’m also the “oh and don’t forget the…” guy and more often the  “did you remember to…” dude.

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my comic strip Drapetomania got picked up by a really hip cool happening new site - http://www.blackpower.com/. check it out check it out check it out.

(drapetomania definition)

 It’s been a long time since i’ve posted a mix in NotRadio. I’ve been in the lab working on the new season … and oh yeah. we had a kid.regular updates will return in february. until then i’ll probably be dropping teasers like this one. stevie wonder meets jay-z with a splash of Gregorian chant.missed you guys. thanks for the comments. happy holidays and see you next year!

the following are excerpts and  selections from my 7 month old son’s first manuscript, entitled “the early months: a retrospective on my first year.”
- note to self: mommy nipple nutritious daddy nipple not so much
- I need to find out who is hitting me in the head and pulling my hair when I’m trying to sleep. 9 to 1 my money is on the other guy in bed.
- I’m studying them. I take time when I’m nursing to get a feel for the food filled one that I have lovingly nicknamed TOBY. As for the hairy faced one, I used my poop as a Rorschach test to observe his reaction. My analysis is that he seems a bit eager to please and heavy handed …dude you’re not washing a car they are called towelettes have some class, point your pinky up when you wipe.
- My Umi has yet to tell me to “shine my light on the world”
- I really need to get over these past life issues. These poor people think I’m crying for no reason.
- My feet taste delicious, I really think I’ve found my vice
- These cheeks are garnering me too much attention they are like cleavage on my face. Perhaps if I try to stick my entire fist in my mouth folks will lose interest.
- Note about the one called “Daddy” : This guy is funny …the way he shakes those keys is hilarious like Dane Cook but with more of a point to his jokes.
- I keep trying to tell people what I’m thinking but it all comes out as screams and grunts. My secondary plans to code it in my feces have been thwarted. Every time I put together a message they just fold it up and toss it.
- Today I have seen the face of god and his name is “chicken dance elmo” [Read more]

Hey …so
Its been a while
You know
Not since I’ve blogged but a while since …I mean
It happens
There’s this younger dude in my bed with a lot more hair than me that boldly looks up at me smiling with my wife’s breast in his mouth. Some times he doesn’t even eat he just lets it run down his neck. Really. What a JERK. He turned my wife’s tits into teats.
You never think that someone you’ve known for less time than your sneakers can make you change how you act with your wife.
We don’t kiss the same. I’ve always thought my wife was cute but never have I ever kissed her 40 times in one spot on her cheek while humming. Now it’s a force of habit. It’s happened to her too, like when she has to specify who she’s talking to when she walks in a room and says some one looks “cute” or when she says “hey baby”
That one is hard.
Speaking of which. It’s night time and tonight we are in grown up mode (all parents and people who raised us please stop reading here, all you need to know is that we sleep in separate beds with a clock and lamp between us and we wear full head to toe 3 piece pajamas with a hat…every one else read on)
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Its late on a  Friday night at the Oyin warehouse, deep in the cut of east Baltimore. Our building sits at the crossroads of gentrification and the HOOD as popularized on tv and movies. We are literally on the other side of the tracks as a train runs directly behind our building.

I’ve been very conscious  of what music I get into my child’s rhythm and I recently realized I haven’t really listened to Gnarls Barkley’s new album. I mean I’ve played it but I really haven’t sat with it. So I make the decision that that’s the sound track to our ride home tonight. He’s up and in a particularly laughy  mood.

I put it on random. The first song was WOULD BE KILLER.

We lock the gate and drive off…  almost immediately I see the most brilliant sparkling lights in the rear view

They are coming from a very unassuming minivan

I drive on for like half a block before I realize it was me they wanted.

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The unheard conversation between 2 trees. Conceived Pierre Bennu  of www.exittheapple.com for the credit sequence of the the show “Eco-Bling” at www.esthergrace.com. Press the pic  and enjoy!

Click the pic to see the new video.

click the pic and enjoy: ) this is from the good people at the site www.thegreatschlep.com

Today, my baby snatched my glasses off, grabbed my beard and screamed/laughed half an inch from my face. First thought that went into my mind was, oh my God, what if he’s a jerk? Maybe he is a jerk. Maybe, I’m the father of jerk.

Or maybe he’s a drunkard. Clearly he likes to drink and hasn’t stopped a day in his short life.

Last time I changed him he peed on me then smiled … maybe he’s a freak?
Maybe he likes to be naked in front of guys.
Maybe he’s gay. …And that’s fine…
Oh no - now do I sound like I’m belittling his life choice?
Now he’s going to be a poet & I’m going to be the subject of all his awful poetry: “If he/she can’t use the comb don’t bring her/him home.”
Oh damn now he’s racist and a hairist.
Maybe he’ll fall in love with a dark Indian with straight hair that actually can’t use the comb. Or perhaps she has no arms…oh wait what if she’s bald because of chemo?
God, now I hate me. He brings over his armless bald Indian girlfriend recovering from cancer to meet the parents and what do I do. I judge.
Even I want to write a poem about how much I hate me.
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