Even if you’ve only known me for ten minutes, let alone ten years, you will understand that i live the nomadic lifestyle–vagabond, wanderluster, constant-jaunter, etc. I love being on the move; i dislike staid or static existence. New experiences, new lands, new people are what get me going in the morning–even more so than coffee—and i LOVE coffee. Over the past year and a half, i’ve been introduced and bonded with a tertiary family: the Nomadness Travel Tribe, most commonly referred to as The Tribe. We are a global collective of world travelers, of nomads, of folks with the wanderlust affliction–we do not stay still for more than…
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You are not a label
I don’t mind labels. I actually like them. A label is just a sticker. It can be removed. It can be moved around. It can stay on indefinitely. Labels and categories are only measures of identification. They make things easier to sort through, to know what might occur. A label is not a scarlet letter branded into your flesh, an Auschwitz tattoo pricked into your arm. People get riled up, proclaiming, “I hate labels!” or “Don’t put me in a category.” Bro, you’re a human being, there’s no singular definition. You’re not pigeonholed or limited to just one label for the rest of your life, sister. Only time…
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disambiguation: black is a color; Black is culture, history, music
I’ve been sitting on this piece for quite some time. It’s witnessed two Black History Months pass by, actually. After the resurgence of racial upheaval and tensions (e.g. Trayvon Martin), racist ideologies and commentary spewed forth, tipped over by yesterday’s Gawker post regarding the outrage of the Hunger Games’ casting of Black folks for—get this—Black characters, a piece indicative of a large slice of mainstream America, its pop culture and racist attitudes, i figured it was about time i published this. Let’s put this out there from the jump: black is a color; Black is an embodiment of culture, of history, of music—a people. Black people: we are…
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Love to travel? Love me? Support Nomad•ness Travel Tribe Kickstarter
I love to travel. Being the ever curious one, a veritable sponge, i’ve had the bug since i was a child—always wanting to see the sites and distant lands i read about, whether fantasical or real, didn’t matter. As a kid i wasn’t presented with the opportunity to travel outside of the Tri-State often. Before i was 19 the farthest i traveled that i can recall was to DC. I believe i went once to North Carolina with my god mother, but i vaguely remember it, i may even be making it up. I didn’t get on my first plane until i was 23—i went to Lexington, Kentucky…
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marriage, oh boy; or is it, oh girl? ::shrugs::
It’s funny the way life works: growing up i learned about marriage through broken relationships, innumerable constant failed attempts—one after another—with every pairing i witnessed my family’s and friends’ of the family, and not to downplay the backdrop of the vast populace around me, or on the tube or covering magazines or spread eagle on billboards, attempts at society’s golden hallmark when it comes to courting and pairing up, procreating and rearing. The participating folks never hesitated to think about what their actions, what their example would do/still does in the eyes of the to-come or the babies growing, following footsteps laid in sand turned to concrete or…
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of muses, of lovers, friends and others
In case yet said along parchment rooftops cursive or ruled awnings bold: Women are God’s gifts laid upon Earth’s mantled soul. Born in whispers A muse is more than mere influences. Existing in a word Living off sentences Birthing paragraphs silent Raising chapters alone Destroyer of books Standing atop volumes Queen of sounds Empress of visions Goddess of gods Breaker of hearts. She is The ultimate lover. ~m.j Conceived as prose, transformed into verse, the above consciousness streamed via pen dripping sloppily jotted chicken scratch soon becoming livelihoods, usually uttered using different words over libations to best friends female—my internal love glowing in need of…
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