so I just finished reading this:
Leo (July 22-Aug. 22)
Your usual social circle may not be stoked about your reclusive habits this week, but you have a habit of always knowing what you need — or, if not knowing exactly, then plowing on with your gut instinct until it proves to be right. And this week you’re going to need a little more you-time, gearing up for the full moon on the 20th and all of the emotional intensity it’s bound to bring. But, lest you get all bummy about a lack of social interaction, the highlight of your romantic week will come in the form of blind dates, which — I know, I know — have never been your thing. But think of it this way: these set-ups are a good test run for some of the pieces of your fierce personality that haven’t seen the light of day in a while.

and so I'm asking this:
If you know me and if ur reading this you do and you if know of any nice "open minded" girls then make with match making already !!!

~D~

“Can I tell you a secret now this stays between me and you well you me and Ace and Jen”

“when I was younger I had the biggest crush on the female Gelfling in dark crystal.”

“That’s ok I use to have a big crush on Raphael form the teenage mutant ninja turtles.”
 
“Yeah Raphael was the man I always liked him, but I gotta say I really dug Leonard a bit more”

“Yeah I can see that, your kind of a lot like Leo anyways…”

As we dance hip to hip I realize that my eyes have been cast downward lookin not at our feet but at the space in-between us. It’s filled by our similarities, and not complemented by our difference it a strange but wonderful feeling. I place my hand low on you waist as we spin finally, I look up into your eyes; slant and long they smile at me and the rush of blood can be felt from my head to feet. In my arms you feel full and small sharp and soft, in short… amazing. Before I even know it my other hand has betrayed me and is already caressing the sides and back of your smooth bald head your beautiful, I bite my lip to stop them from committing the same crime of passion my hands are guilt of.  Even thorough I want to give chase I know I am already caught up in you, and by the end of the dance I beg for ur kiss for boy you are just so…

I wish I could be your voice; The sound in the deep, the bell the ring. The pull slow and low bassed and cracked pushed and pulled over hard times and joy brewed  up form someplace small and blue only to turn crimson when cut thru the air.
Harsh and boyish bowel lonely lullaby “baby” she sings soft in my ear I will never love you the way you love me.
~D~

Hey ever body!  I will be having my first gallery show at gallery 6 this Saturday the 23rd comedown and check it out if you can. It’s a group show with some amazing artists begin showcased, the whole shabang starts at 6pm and goes on to 10. I’ll have many of drawing up for sale and viewing plus I will be drawing LIVE right there, on the spot and off the wall!
So come thru and support your boy by stopping by and saying Hi.
 
Staten Island stand up!

~D~

Gallery 6
Museum/Gallery
Address:
30 Beach St., 2nd floor
Staten Island, NY 10304
Phone:
718-981-1147

I wish I had written this then but when I think about it I know I couldn’t have.
 
    I was blacker then well at lest blacker then I am now fresh out high school not yet in college but taking my first real course in life. Brooklyn was where I got my first apartment apart from family and friends it was then that I met her. Please let me take this time to evoke her form in detail before time blends the sharpness of her memory into the uncertainty of feelings.
    It was closing time in the art store I worked at, we used to work together at one point but she had quit sometime ago to become a bike messenger. I was in the back doing the daily “end of day count” when I heard someone step up to the counter, a loud and rude voice shortly followed “HEY CAN I GET SOME SERVICE”! Now I have been working for sometime in retail, in New York so I have handled my fair share of rude customers, while still in the back I shouted out “if you can please wait I’ll be right with you.” “ NO, YOU DON’T KEEP ME WAITING, DO YOU KNOW WHO IAM”? Appalled by this response I stopped what I was doing loosing my count, I angrily marched up to the front area where the counter was. Ready to fully explain in detail the unbelievably simple fact that I didn’t give a fuck whom this person was. Truing the bend I saw her right away, my anger quickly left me as I exclaimed “KIKIE” her nickname. There she stood in a white fake fur coat censored at the waist buy the low counter, short hair covered under a bob cut black wig. The sides of which defined the round edges of your cheekbones, cut them sharpely creating lines that lead straight to plumb lips, pucked with a kiss of hooker’s green lipstick. Low bangs that draped just over wild amber window’s, mirror eyes flashing the halo’s of halogens reflected in the center of black iris’s. I masked my awe  “ you look ridiculous” “you like”? She vogued the question “I LOVE IT”! I did I, truly did she stepped behind the counter and in tight blue pants and sneakers she swirled, showing me the entirety of her outfit. She was built like a boy, not a man, short somewhat stout legs strong hips with a soft slope for an ass “My, my aren’t we all dressed to impress, hot date”?  “You tell me”? She asked with a silent accent added at the Conner of her smile, unzipping her coat to reveal, the baby tee power puff girl shirt I had gotten her as a farewell gift on her last day at the art store. I never bought the shirt with the intention of her actual wearing it. More so a gift to riff off the inside joke we shared, for I often called her buttercup the name of one of the three girls that made up the super powered trio of tots. That’s when it all hit me the black bob wig the lipstick, she was pretending to be butter cup “happy birthday mister Felder” she said while punching her fist to the sides of her hip and pushing out her chest. I smiled uncontrollably, that night would turn out to hold many more surprises for me, but I am happy to say she was the first.
~D~

Looking down the stairs is surreal but then very little about this space isn’t. From ceiling to banister hangs hundreds of various types, of handmade decorations mostly made out of paper, the walls of the narrow staircase are all black with crud graffiti painted all over, if the words splashed on the walls where warnings I couldn’t tell. All of it was illegible nothing set it’s self-apart instead the whole mess whirled into a visual cacophony, that give the simple straightforward stair’s abnormal attributes. Then a gust of wind stepped past me and touched all the insane hanging “things” sending them into spasm; swirling, melting, and swaying like tendrils in the mouth of some grand exotic sea creature, it beckoned. Standing at the top one could not see where the bottom of the staircase led to, upon taking the first step down I realize my plain white tee is glowing bright blue. I look at my hands and arms, almost completely black in complexion and cast upon the shadow color of me, a thousand points of little light sticking to the invisible hairs on my arm, “star catcher” I laugh to my self. My nails ten tiny laser lights leaving ghost trails of neon as they moved. “Black light”, the staircase is lit by black lights somehow the audacity of the décor hid that fact. I reach the middle of the staircase, I can hear it low at first the boom, the bass rising from the bottom to meet me. I reach for the door at the end of the landing, the sound pushes the door open at my touch with a blast from two speakers parked on both sides, that seem to announce my arrival like sentry’s blowing their horns. The ceilings are to high to see but deep ocher and red light pour down on the crowd of bodies covered in sweat and convulsing to the beat right before I step into the wet heap into the mass and wave I laugh to myself
“yes, I have arrived”.

You can't judge a man that's already been judged:

I look at him there in his white tank top he looks just like my father exactly like him, more then I can every hope to. His cup held high full of henny and life he singings at the top of his lungs, words that mean nothing to me, and everything to him. Rap turned up to ten, I guess to help aid the henny in its job and drown out everything. Thug anthems fill the background, foreground and in the middleground there is me, His brother in, law and name only. For the present he is free and I want to say his future is a mystery but his past would strongly disagrees.
You know what’s worse then being bored at a party?
Being contemplative.
The End.

6:00 am

In the car ride back I look over, he’s a strange mix of cute, and awkward; a “hippster”. Taller then me lighter then me, he takes off the wool hat I have not until this point seen him without; dark spiky hair pops out. I take off my wool hat the one I can seldom be seen out of, my dark curly hair matted with sweat. As he drives me home from Brooklyn I talk to him about physic and why I need to be “emptied” from time to time, How I long for the feeling that comes after complete abandonment. My whole body numb as it slumps in the set nothing left in my muscle nor will to support it. The odd thing tho’ about begin numb is the fact that its not a lost of feeling but is actually the prevalence of feeling, one feeling. One long deep feeling that makes everything else distance that “buzz” you get when your leg falls asleep when your whole body feels like that it’s amazing numb, buzzing, electric.   
I talk about zero frame states how in space there is no point to start from no north or south to use to plot a course so you have to start with ur self.
I doubt he realized I was talkin’ about him.
The End.