What do you weigh – five-hundred? Love. It. Six-five? You’re really very big, and the pleasure of your, imagined company, your slow, flirty humor — it works. Quite nicely. Sounds like you’re really paying attention when you say my name three times the way you say it when you come fix things in my apartment. But I know you’re full of shit.
In “reality” your weight’s a non-issue. You’ve compensated for the “short-coming,” as people do. Hilarity is how I’ve compensated for mine.
So, as I’m sketching it, you sit on the sofa while I smear your ass from different angles. From your position, you can gaze at the mark on my back that I got from my surgery, and I call you names when I twist to see your face — a beast — a fat fucker – maybe I’m the ‘fat fucker’ whatever — names Lil’ Kim calls Biggie on that track when she accuses him of eating different foods, and they break the bed down. Then I might flip around and face you, bite, smell you…
You’re inappropriate, but somehow you’ve gotten your cue from me. I am the lonely middle-aged broad in the ‘penthouse’? Why should I be embarrassed that I enjoyed your company when you tried to fix my DVD player? Maybe you are a clever abuser of vulnerability, but remember this Big Daddy — if I do you, I’ll know exactly what I’m doing, because I’ve got you by twenty years, and I didn’t get this old for nothing.
[This is the Jamaican crab that I wasn’t able to scan into my walking-sideways-like- a-crab post the other day. I got my scanner to work today, so there he is, suitably inserted in this post, also having something to do with being sideways.]
My post about moving sideways like a crab made me think of Paul Wall’s video, Sittin’ Sidewayz. (I think it means sitting sideways in the car?) I do love that video. It went through my head while I typed that post. You know how the brain works. I wanted to insert it in the post but thought then that it would distract people from the monumental message I was trying to convey. Plus, he speaks of sitting sideways, I’m talking about walking sideways – people would get confused.
Someone posted a picture of Paul Wall on fb – that helped with this video renting space in my head.
I love the background sample in this song — it’s so ghetto. I find the repetitiveness of these kinds of samples insular yet transporting in an odd way — exactly how homies in the hood would describe it of course. Hereitis:
Warning: the content below, as relayed by my 86 year old friend M, may be considered offensive.
“The dozens ain’t my game but the way I f**k your ma is a goddamned shame.”
“I took your father in my car, and I beat your ma. Now you know who you are my son, my son.”
I’ve written about M before. We’re friends. He visits the botanical garden where I work. He was in WWII. I had asked if he had PTSD from the war, from killing people. M’s Jewish. He says to me, “I tried to kill as many of those motherfuckers as I could!” I asked him to stop right there because he was getting me hot. Some of you may have heard me say that I have been turned on by a 90 year old man. This is him, though he’s really 86. I like extremes so I round it off. He has soft hands and likes to touch my face – don’t say il! He has good genes. He’s spry, cute, funny as hell, he exercises, and still has sex. He says it wipes him out for days after however. He comes to the botanical garden where I work with different women – cute, 70 something year olds with nice shapes. I don’t get jealous. I just hope they’re not jealous of me, because he comes to see me in the gallery to tell me different things.
He told me those lyrics above yesterday. I said, “That’s hip hop M!” “Yeah well, where do you think hip hop came from?” He says. He went to school in the South Bronx in the 1940s. The school he went to was half black and white. I was surprised, although I did see a dead relative’s year book with half black and white people from back then. Wow. M had black friends. He told me stories yesterday from the days of yore, and how he learned those lyrics up there. He used to get into a lot of fights too. I am totally crushing on M.