Asalto Navideño in Da 'Hood

Hola mi Gente,
The following is based on true events. I have taken some liberty with the timeline and characters, but it’s all true. LOL

Collard Greens and Pasteles

Jamal Shabazz: Friends, Brooklyn, ca 1980

In terms of the revolution, I believe that the revolution will be a revolution of dispossessed people in this country: that's the Mexican American, the Puerto Rican American, the American Indian, and black people.
-- H. Rap Brown

My best friend when I was growing up was Al. We were inseparable. We were born on the same day, one minute apart. He was born on a Monday morning June 6, 1955 at 3:28 AM and I was born a minute later. Al was a dark-skinned African-American with fine features. He played trumpet and I played trombone and percussion. We wanted to become Latin Jazz musicians and Al came from a family of musicians. We were night and day, yin and yang, if you saw one, you were certain the other was somewhere nearby.

And we were trouble: mischievous Geminis to the core.

Al had 15 brothers and sisters and they all lived in this huge 23-room house in the Brooklyn neighborhood known as Bushwick (gentrification has rechristianed the neighborhood “East Williamsburg”). I know it had 23 rooms because I counted. Mrs. Pearl, Al’s mother, would tire of throwing me out of her house. She used to refer to Puerto Ricans as, “All you mira-miras.” I think she got that from constantly hearing Puerto Ricans exclaim, “¡Oye mira, mira!” on the streets of what was then a diverse, but mostly Puerto Rican and African American  neighborhood. She would chase me out of her house, but would send out her sons to look for me if I stayed away too long and then scolded me for staying away. Of course, she would throw me out the door and I would climb through a window. Al got his looks from his mother, she was a very dark-skinned, fine featured, woman with long, fine hair, still beautiful in her fifties and a hard life. Her house was run like a conglomerate, with varying levels of management. I was totally fascinated.

She didn’t like Puerto Ricans and let me know it, but I think she loved the heck out of me. She would call me “Black” as a joke because I was so light-skinned. The name stuck, I was known as “Black,” as in “Yo, Black,” in her house. However, she always made sure she let me know she couldn’t abide by those noisy “Mira-mira Po’ Reekans” as she referred to us.

Therefore, it didn’t surprise me when she was initially outraged when my family decided to show up on her doorstep one Christmas Eve in observance of the Puerto Rican tradition of the paranda. She set a glare at me and underneath her breath said, “Nigga, what the fuck are all them mira-miras doing out there at my front door?” My family also had its share of musicians, my uncle having led a salsa band for decades. My stepfather was also something of a musician and my mother, much to my embarrassment, though she can’t sing to save her life, never turned down an opportunity to showcase it. But there they were, on Mrs. Pearl’s doorstep singing some whacked out PR Christmas song with Al, her favorite son, at the head of all that mess, playing trumpet.

For Puerto Ricans, the celebration of Christmas is more of an assault than a normal celebration. You see, la paranda goes like this: an initial small group will get together and march en masse to each doorway. They come complete with instruments, real and makeshift. Puerto Ricans consider pots and pans, for example, instruments. As are beer bottles (full or empty) or anything else that makes a percussive sound. There are, of course, the real instruments, guitars, congas, cowbells. For Puerto Ricans, anything -- any kind of instrument -- is considered game. If you played an accordion and had one handy, you would be “encouraged” to tag along, instrument and all.

So, there they were my whole clan accompanied what looked like the rest of the Puerto Rican community, banging on pots and pans, congas, bongos, and guitars, with my mother in rare form, screeching at the top of her voice. Now here’s the real kicker: The paranda tradition holds that as you go from door to door, each household gets “hit” (el as alto -- literally “assault”). Once outside your door, Puerto Ricans will not leave until you feed them and get them drunk and then you have to join them to the next house.

“Edward,” Mrs. Pearl said (you know you’re in trouble when grownups use your full, real name), “Tell them muthafuckas and my son to get the fuck out of my door before I call the police.” This is where I had to explain the part where they wouldn’t leave until they were well fed and drunk and, with a “Hell no,” she opened the front door to give my people a piece of her mind and that’s when the whole group just rushed in, mistakenly thinking they were being invited.

That was a helluva Noche Buena, as PRs call Christmas Eve. Mrs. Pearl ate lechon (pork suckling) and pasteles (meat embedded in mashed plantains and yuca wrapped in plantain leaves) for the first time and her sister, Aunt Gerty, got so drunk, she literally lost her wig. In the process, traditional Puerto Rican food collided with soul food. Flan mixed with sweet potato pie, greens crashed with arroz con gandures, James Brown mixed with Eddie Palmieri, the rum and the gin flowed, and through it all, Mrs. Pearl and my mother formed an uneasy truce, each knowing that their sons were inseparable.

There were easily over 100 people there that night, some we didn’t even know. Every Christmas Eve after that, I know Ms. Pearl would anxiously await the ruckus of “All dem mira-miras.” She would never admit it, but I know she loved those parties. She would say that “Porter Reekans” knew how to party like black folk and that’s probably the greatest compliment Ms. Pearl could give.

Mrs. Pearl would lose that big house on Bushwick Avenue. I remember she could be stern, but she was also so supportive of the young people in the neighborhood. She would allow, for example, her son George’s band, The New Breed, to practice in her basement. Now, you have to understand this was a 16-piece band with Marshal amps. We also played loud, performing songs from diverse sources, like Buddy Miles, Grand Funk Railroad, Kool & the Gang, Curtis Mayfield. Her son, George, was a gifted drummer who practiced at least 8-10 hours a day -- every day. Ms. Pearl supported all of that.

Eventually, George would go on tour with Gloria Gaynor. Al and I worked as freelancers for various local mostly salsa bands. Some of the horn players of The New Breed would break off and eventually play with BT Express and other groups of the day. Eventually, I would become discouraged with the music business and leave it all behind. When Mrs. Pearl lost her house, she moved to a smaller one further away -- somewhere in Jamaica Queens. I would visit, but not as often. Al and I would go our different ways, with Al beginning a life in crime that would eventually lead him to the revolving door of the prison/ industrial complex. A road I would also take many, many years later… 

The last time I saw Mrs. Pearl, she hugged me and tenderly caressed my face. She told me to make sure to take care of myself. Shortly thereafter, I left New York. The last time I spoke to anyone from the family was when George called me while I was living in Houston. He was on tour with Gloria Gaynor and had left some tickets for me at the Forum. When I saw him, I hugged him as I would a brother.

I never saw any of them again... 

I look back now and realize, as I did then, that those were special days. I lived during a time where there was community and while times were hard (they always were), people somehow looked out for one another's children. Today, I don't see these traditions practiced as much as in those days, and I'm saddened a bit because our children will never know how much they're missing... 

Felíz Navidad

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization… 

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, please consider helping me out by sharing it, liking me on Facebook, following me on Twitter, or even throwing me some money on GoFundMe HERE or via PayPal HERE so I can keep calling it like I see it.

The Friday Sex Blog [Modern Day Sex]

Hola mi gente,
I’m glad to say that Soffiyah Elijah’s launch event last night was a success. It was well attended and people were writing checks, man! LOL If you need to know, my motivation in volunteering is simple: I believe in Soffiyah as a visionary and comrade. Period. 

People: I would appreciate it if you would donate to my campaign. Whether it’s thousands or five dollars, it’s all good and you get karma points. Really. Go. HERE. Now.

Today is Friday and it’s all about sex. Why? Because sex can be at the same time revolutionary and oppressive. It’s also evolutionary. Dialectics, man, dialectics.

Weird Facts About Modern Day Sex

I have a rule, and that is to never look at somebody's face while we're having sex; because, number one, what if I know the guy?
 -- Laura Kightlinger

In doing some research to post today’s blog, on another topic, I came across the following from Flithy. I usually post original content, but I felt this is a worthwhile share: Look, I’m no prude by a long shot, but some of this is, like, yeah weird. LOL At the very least this should encourage you to allow your freak flag fly -- we’re all doing it on the DL… 

Shaving your pubes will make you more likely to spread or get a sexually transmitted infection.

Next time you decide to manscape, or womanscape, know that you might be setting yourself up for disaster. Pube maintenance may make you more susceptible to STDs or a viral infection. Really. There is a reason why mother nature made your pubes grow wild down there. Shaving or waxing can cause irritation and micro-trauma to your skin that increases your risk of contracting a viral infection. Researchers of a new case study in France observed that the number of cases of molluscum contagiosum have risen along with rates of pubic hair removal. The researchers observed 30 patients in which all were infected with the molluscum virus. Nearly all of them had removed their pubic hair by shaving followed by waxing and clipping. The findings support the researchers’ theory that hairless genitals would provide more opportunity to catch sexually transmitted diseases. Put down the clippers next time you see your hair down there getting out of control and think about your family jewels or lady bits first.

Four Popes have died while having sex, one while getting sodomized.

Hold on, isn’t celibacy a requirement for priests in the Catholic Church? We all know it’s a fact, but it’s obviously not followed by evidence of the many scandals ranging from child abuse and both homosexual and heterosexual sex scandals by various church members, but seriously, the Pope? Isn’t he the guy who’s supposed to be the role model and set the example for everyone within the faith? Wait, so the scandals and child abuse throughout the church make so much sense now. The first Pope to break the code of celibacy was Pope Leo VII in 939 AD who died of a heart attack while on top of his mistress. Before taking his role as the Pope, he was known to have very little ambition towards the papacy, but consented under pressure from the Church to accept. The circumstances about his death are subject to rumors, but legend maintains that he died of a heart attack while having sex with his girlfriend. Two Popes, John VII in 964 AD and John XIII in 972 were both bludgeoned to death by the jealous husbands of the women they were having sex with. But one Pope lives in infamy for his rather taboo discretion, Paul II in 1471 AD died while being sodomized by a page boy. It is noted at the time he died of a heart attack.

Female penguins engage in prostitution.

I hope these penguins are practicing safe sex and, more importantly, paying taxes on all those John’s they get turnt out by. Researchers have repeatedly observed female Adelie penguins of the Antarctic coast exchanging in sexual favors with several male penguins that aren’t their mates in exchange for pebbles they will use to build nests for their babies. The young male penguins who have not yet found a mate are doubtless sexually frustrated. As a result of those frustrations, the exasperated penguins collect piles of the best stones they can find in order to trade for sexual favors with the breeding females. Scandalous!

Straight men comprise more than half the audience for transgender porn.

Did you know that along with lesbian porn, there is a huge interest in Transgender porn? Yes some straight men are actually watching trans porn, it's fact. According to Porn Hub statistics result of 2014 shemale fuck girl was the second most popular search term. According to the Centre for Gay and Lesbian Studies of CUNY, a study showed sexual interest in male to female transsexuals first emerged in 1953, associated with the then famous transition of Christine Jorgensen. Men who identify as straight but are sexually attracted to trans women are referred to as Gynandromorphophiliacs. Saying this word is less difficult than figuring out the mind of a horny straight guy. Through studies done by various sexologists, these men are not considered to be homosexual. In a survey of men who engaged in sex with male-to-female trans women, 73 to 92 percent identified as straight or bisexual. The studies also showed surprising results indicating that these men were especially likely to eroticize the idea of being a woman personally. So the next time your boyfriend wants to wear your panties, let his freak fly. He’s most definitely still is into you, but probably wants to be just like you-literally.

Having sex toys can land you jail time in some areas of the world.

Whether you’re a nervous flyer or not, flying with your favorite companion, no not your boyfriend, your dildo, can land you in jail. In some places like Saudi Arabia, Malaysia, Thailand or India you could either have your best friend confiscated or even worse, you could end up in the slammer for even having them depending on if the customs agent was a dick. Not getting slammed, you perv. In America, you would think that our laws are not as backwards as those countries, but you’d be wrong in that assumption. Alabama and Mississippi are in a tie for holding the Title of Prudest State in the country. Technically there is no law in those states that you can't necessarily possess sex toys, but sex toys are still illegal in Alabama and Mississippi. Just don’t take a box full of dildos across state lines with you, if you got stopped by the police, to them it might appear as though you’re looking to sell them. Could you imagine getting arrested for having a box of dildos in your car?

One in three people get injured during sex.

According to studies, approximately 33 percent of all Americans who engage in sexual activity get injured in some way. Some injuries can include, but are not just limited to, bruises, pulled muscles, sprained ankles, & carpet burns to name a few. Next time you shag, be sure to get an insurance policy.

The female orgasm can induce pregnancy.

It’s a common urban legend that having sex can induce labor when you’re nearing the end of a pregnancy, but it actually might be sort of true. Having an orgasm during sex releases oxytocin, which is a hormone that makes the uterus contract during labor. This hormone is also responsible for triggering labor contractions. Inducing labor doesn’t usually take effect until the third trimester, so in theory, orgasming while very pregnant could help bring on labor. But recent studies have found no association between orgasm and labor induction in cisgender women. In recent times however, women are discovering new natural ways to deliver their children. Many midwives will suggest in the last few weeks of pregnancy to try having sex. Surprisingly in some of these natural birth cases, orgasms have actually aided in inducing pregnancy.

You can read the full article here.

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Okay, on second thought, admittedly, these aren’t all that weird. I mean no necrophilia? ::blank stare:: So I guess I’ll have to write my own post. Have a great weekend, people!

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…

Knowledge

Hola Everybody,
If you can, please consider supporting my writing. Any amount would be welcomed. You can donate by clicking the link here.

I want to thank the anonymous individual who donated $5,000… I’m kidding! (Made you look, huh? LOL)

Knowing

The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty: not knowing what comes next.
 -- Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness

I agree with our friend Socrates that the unexamined life is not worth living, but I’ll take it one step further by adding that it is how we examine life that determines its worth. This is no small matter. Until very recently, humans mostly lived within one culture, never having to confront the belief systems and meaning-making of other cultures. Today, that is no longer true and depending on the culture we were born in to gain knowledge is not an effective means for obtaining meaning and value.

I believe this is a good thing.

One of the first beliefs that has been shattered (but that people still cling to nonetheless), is the myth of the individual standing outside of cultural context as an objective observer. This notion has been shattered in almost all areas of knowledge. In the hardest of sciences, physics, The Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle (measurement), and the observer effect demonstrated that the tools we use effect what we measure and observe. In that way a quanta, the most essential building block of matter can be seen as both a wave and a particle, according to which instruments are used to measure it. Additionally, the observer effect impacts all other sciences from psychology to information systems.

Cognitive neuroscientists have shown that we do not much as observe reality, but create it. I’ll give you a good example. Right now, you’re reading the pixels on the screen that turn out to be letters (in actuality they are codes). Are you aware of other objects within your awareness? The area beyond your screen, for example? The wall behind you? Even now, you’re “deciding” which data to observe and which data to omit. 

Much of what we pay attention is decided by our cultural views. Culture is a very human concept -- it’s a major way we create meaning. Your language, for example, is a product of your culture and every language omits and includes certain data. There are concepts for example, in Sanskrit, that are almost impossible to translate into English. A reason for that is that English tends toward categorizing things while Sanskrit was better suited to describe pre-verbal, spiritual concepts.

Even better, let’s take Spanish and English. I remember a particularly interesting study whose aim was to study language and childhood development. Specifically, the researcher wanted to study the impact of Spanish-speaking parents on children in Boston. What she discovered was extremely interesting to me, as I am bilingual. 

The study showed that when Spanish-speaking parents spoke to their children, they often used open-ended questions. English-dominant parents used closed questions. For example, a Spanish dominant parent would ask her child questions about a trip that led to qualitative thinking/ responses. They would ask, for example, “So you went to the zoo? How did you like it?” Open-ended questions are question that can’t be answered with a simple yes or no, and Spanish-dominant parents relied more heavily on getting the child to describe the quality of their experience. English-dominant parents relied more heavily on close-ended questions, such as, “So, you went to the zoo. Did you enjoy it?” They would go on to ask questions that helped their children to quantify -- or categorize -- their experience.

Note that I’m not saying one is better than the other, just pointing out the difference. Moreover, as a bilingual individual, I can understand the difference because the two languages emphasize different aspects of reality.

Scientists are no different, though they do try to control for these effects. Still, it’s only recently that the western medical community is beginning to understand traditional Chinese medicine. Modern medical practitioners scoffed at acupuncture until research began to show that there was something to the practice. 

Even today, with more and more western practitioners accepting eastern medicine, they still do not completely understand why acupuncture works. As one basic scientist Candace Pert, put it, “We just don’t have the geography to understand why it works.” That’s just another way of saying that we don’t have the language. We still do not understand the meridian system and today, westerners are taught acupuncture in a way I find unethical. In the East, you have to study for at least 10-15 years before you’re even allowed to pick up a needle and much of the training (calligraphy, qi-gong practice, etc.) is considered extraneous to acupuncture by Western practitioners.

Another great example is the now more commonplace practice of attending the mind as well as the body. Medical doctors are trained to view the body as a mechanism, divorced from its mental state. They are trained to treat the “symptom” or the “disease.” In this way, people were reduced to symptoms and diseases, their humanity sacrificed on the altar of scientism. What modern western medical science never acknowledged or fully appreciated was that the mind -- the mental state -- of the patient was attached to the body. 

Today, there is strong evidence that one’s mental state holds an enormous influence on the outcomes of any treatment, so western medicine has taken a turn toward a more holistic approach, though my experience tells me there is more lip service than actual practice.

I say all this to show that we are not simply individuals living outside of the culture in which we are embedded. If you were to attempt to change the meaning of one word, for example, it would be succeed until a significant portion of the population began accepting that meaning. The meaning may change for you (to a small extent), but it has not really changed. It still has a larger cultural meaning and that meaning still has an influence on you.

That you don’t notice this influence doesn’t mean it does not exist. Rather, it means that you are not aware of it. The purpose of life, as Socrates would have it, is to make the unconscious conscious.

My name is Eddie and I’m in recovery from civilization…