"I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all." ~Richard Wright, American Hunger, 1977

"I write when I dream and I dream when I write."

~Khadija Craddock

Saturday, January 26, 2013


Three Levels of Fun

Okay I have been behind on my post so please forgive me. I've been very busy the past few weeks. I do have something I would like to share.

It was a Thursday evening Jan 24th, my best friend Shonda birthday. My twin and I took her out to Webster Hall (yes we share a bff). Even the drive from Newark to New York was eventful. For starters my chest hurt 90% of the way there thanks to my sister's road rage and maniacal driving. I think the anticipation of riding a roller coaster (you know when you're in line with plenty of time to contemplate rather you want to risk your life on this metal snake) is less intense than riding in a car with my Khalilah especially when she is hungry, roarrrr she's like a beast when she's hungry. Less not forget when we actually got into the city; I really thought I was going to die then. Sure this might make me sound like an old prude but her driving scares me.

After a mad dash to Webster Hall from our parking spot, because of course I wasn't paying 6$ for coat check (Yes I am frugal a complete 180 after being a shopaholic but kids will do that to you lol) and it was frigid outside, we made it. It was a nice diverse crowd with multi-levels of diverse music. We patronized all three floors numerous times. You see our favorite music to dance to is reggae; not just one floor played reggae and when they did it was for about five minutes. So up and down the stairs we went chasing that reggae. That's not to say we didn't stay longer than five minutes on one floor; we did enjoy dancing to the hiphop, pop, house, and the techno. The house/techno room on the main floor was not meant for one to stay in for more than five to ten minutes at a time, unless you wanted to have a seizure from the intense and excessive strobe lights, laser lights, and fog. To be in that room longer is to be on drugs; most of them were (not judging or condoning; it was entertaining). Which brings me to this, whilst in the rest room checking my lipstick and hair, a girl approached me. With her blinking necklace, white shirt and leggings, she decide to rub her hands up and down my pink clad arm. I was wearing a pink blazer that apparently she enjoyed as much as the "E" would allow.

I met many interesting people that was cool to talk to to. One cute young man that was really digging my style and hair, didn't believe I was 30 with two kids; who wouldn't enjoy that. Yes I do look young and yes when I'm teaching at the high schools students confuse me for one of them; especially the boys. Hopefully when I'm 50+ I still look young like my mother. I digress way too much. I met a man who thought he knew me; he did look familiar, but to follow us to different rooms asking me to recite poetry was annoying. That's not to say he wasn't a cool person or nice, because he was, and at some point we even had fun dancing with him in the techno/house room, but once again he couldn't stop asking me to recite poetry. Then he tried to grind on me when reggae was playing. Okay now I really sound old here, which I am not, but I am very conservative and I enjoy dancing on my own with my friends rather than have some strange man humping me. (Hypocrite alert) However, I will make the except for a hot guy but it will be rated pg grinding, otherwise I like the freedom of dancing on my own, which I can do rather good not to brag. I can't make money from it or anything but for the club it's pretty good. Anyway, once the poetry seeker asked to exchange numbers I had to turn him down, I felt bad about it for some reason it's not I owe him anything and I'm spoken for.

At one point while on the top level a fight broke out and I was once again showing my age. The crowd started pushing desperately trying to escape the fight, in my mind I just didn't want to be around if they start shooting. So I literary grabbed my bff and my twin by the arm and pulled stream rolled the crowd as I pushed my way through to get out. What would you do if you saw someone pick up a table and throw it. I had to many dreams of being shot in the head to stick around for the outcome of that fight. So that had my heart pumping.

The later it got the more the people started to stink. In the lower level a boy's hair smelled like cheese. On the main floor in the lobby a tall slim fellow approached me and just when he attempted to make his moves that I was ready to reject, he farted, it was silent but I smelled it. I was disgusted but it made for a good laugh for my friends and I. Again in the lower level we were getting down to some reggae and this big booty girl decides to join us in our little line dance. Shonda and I were already leery of her because she and her  androgynous female friend were grinding on unsuspecting girls that weren't lesbians. Khalilah didn't know this because she was lost in the music. Suddenly the big booty girl jumps in front of me trying to throw her butt on me I jumped back and threw my hands up disgusted at her advances. Then , her androgynous friend ask me, "Why you not getting on that". I was too stunned for words so I just turned away and left the situation all together. While we were chasing the reggae Shonda fell down the last two steps on the lower level because her platform booties weren't zipped in the back. Despite the insanity and the occasional booty and cheese smell,  I had a blast dancing with my friends and the crowd. So that is my Three Levels of fun. I hope you enjoyed the brew.Have any ingredients you would like to add; feel free to leave a comment.

Stay tuned for the next batch of Brew...