One of the worst things about me, besides having an undersized penis that would make a white woman point and scream "My parents aren't speaking to me because of that!!" if I ever dated inter-racially, is my extremely poor memory. I don't know if it is the years smoking some of the finest street horticulture my area had to offer, or the fact that my mother drank cheap wine when she was pregnant with me, but if there was an award entitled "The motherfucker most likely to forget your name" I would win that coveted prize every year I was nominated. In an age where there should be compassion for individuals with handicaps, people aren't too sympathetic when it comes to my specific problem. I mean, just because I have forgotten loved ones birthdays, the ring that I was supposed to hold on to when I was the best man at a friends wedding, and the names of lovers mid and post coitus, suddenly I am the bad guy??(Try calling a woman another name while in the missionary position..)
The only thing that helps me when it comes to recalling people, places, or events, is simply, music. I couldn't tell you how many times I have uttered the phrases, "I can tell you when she broke up with me because that is when "Midnight Marauders came out.", "I fucked my first Spanish broad in 1988, because I remember pre-ejaculating to Doug E Fresh's "The World's Greatest Entertainer", or "I had in-house ass in 1990 when my parents let some chick stay with my family for a year. I'm certain about that, you never forget getting blown to Dee Lite's "Groove is in the Heart"!!" That's how I suppose you all feel as well, as soon as you hear a specific piece of music it takes you back to a time and place so vividly you feel like Scott Bakula on some "Quantum Leap" shit. Here is what I think about when I hear the following songs.
Jagged Edge: Song: "Where the party at": It was the summer of 2001, my father had just died a few months earlier, my mother was just diagnosed with cancer, and I had just received the proverbial pink slip form a woman that I was dating for the last 5 years. In an emotional spiral, I was chin-checking(West coast term for fighting) fools on a nightly basis in a drunken stooper, I was smoking so much weed that Cheech and Chong themselves would plan an intervention for me, and I was fucking so many dirty whores in an attempt to forget about my heartbreak I was certain that Sally Struthers would do a heartfelt commercial to get Americans to donate some money to save my penis. You know how it is when you are on the business end of a breakup, as you suffer in silence with happy thoughts of driving your car off of a fucking cliff, all you can imagine is your ex having the best sex of her life now that she is done with a chubby scribe who happened to hum the "Smurfs" theme song while he ejaculated. The song "Where the Party at?" just seemed to epitomize all the fun I imagined she was having now that I was out of the picture, her new boyfriend discovering new territory that I didn't have the phallic size to find myself, her and her girlfriends sitting beside a pool somewhere having "Fuck HumanityCritic" parties as my ex tells lovely stories like the time I pissed the bed once, invoking a chorus of laughter from her heartless friends.. Anyway, hearing this song was the worst form of punishment.
A Tribe called Quest: Song: "Scenario": The last few weeks of my father's life, when the cancer was rapidly taking his life, I took the selfish approach of not seeing him as often as I should have. I know it's wrong, and I probably missed the opportunity to possibly have some heart to heart talks that would have stayed with me for the rest of my life, but based on our shaky past I wanted to avoid any death bed "You ain't shit" speeches at all cost. But luckily for me, when I decided to see him and take that final step to make peace with my father, the old guy decides to die right in front of me. It's weird, even though he was knocked out for the better part of the day and had at least 20 visitors prior to my arrival, I always felt that he waited for me to get there to leave this earth. The memories are etched on my cerebellum like a bad tattoo of an ex lover's name, me and my mother standing beside my father as his temperature began to rise rapidly. The nurses rushing in, pouring buckets of ice on my father's then withered body as I hold my mother in my arms, only moments later I hear that sound that any garden variety idiot who ever watched a Hospital drama knows..Flat-line.. As the nursed left and I consoled my mother in the next room for a few minutes, only to go back into my father's hospital room, clutching his face and sobbingly whispering in his ear "I'm sorry for being such a horrible son..I'll see you on the other side old man" ,soon after heading to my car.
It was pouring down raining as I ran to my vehicle, my legs feeling like they were about to give out with every step. As I got to my car and struggled with my keys for a moment, I hopped in and when I turned on the radio A Tribe Called Quest's song "Scenario" was on. Driving fast for no reason, navigating through the elements and bad Virginia drivers, I remember rapping along with the song that I had loved since the first time I heard it. I'm talking about hand motions and everything, rapping the words verbatim, only to sobbingly say "I fucking love this song!!" during the chorus. Weirdly enough, after the song was over I remember going to some random gas station and buying some beer. I recall politely listening to the cashier who was gushing over the fact that her daughter had recently graduated from college. I stood there for minutes as she went on and on, but I'll tell you what, boring ass conversation never felt so soothing.
Even though I think about a negative experience when I hear that classic tune, I still love that song to death.
Gangstarr: Song: "Just to get a rep": In another life, more than a decade and change ago, I was, *gulp*, a rapper. I had dreams of grabbing the microphone in front of thousands of people, putting out scathing diss records about any miserable wanna-be wordsmith that even mentioned my name in passing, and having a bevvy of slutty admirers who I could clumsily penetrate whenever the fuck I wanted to. A boy had dreams, and to make these dreams become a reality I would go to New York a few times a year to record demos and "Network". I had been to the Big Apple a few times before, and being a cocky kid from the mecca of street life that is Virginia Beach Virginia I felt that N.Y wasn't that big of a deal. Plus if someone tried to come in my face with that bullshit I would show that bastard that just because the word "Beach" is in the city that I am from, I shouldn't be slept on by any means. Well, you know what happens to people who get too big for their britches?? They get robbed!!! That's right, I was somewhere in Brooklyn probably smelling like fresh meat, possibly coming off like Jethro from "The Beverlyhillbillys" and shit, so some young cat decided to rob me of my all my shit.
He came out of nowhere, stuck a gun in my face and said "Run it yo!!" Even though I had heard that term in songs many times before, having a gun 6 inches from your face tends to make you forget current slang, so I really sounded like I was from Virginia Beach when I said "Run what? You want me to run somewhere??" He gripped the gun tighter and said, "Give me all your shit or I will shoot you dead motherfucker!!" As someone who had encountered men with guns before, even foolishly punching a gentleman who pulled a gun out on me at a party years earlier, I looked this dude in the eyes and I could tell that he meant business. Plus, we were kind of in an alley where we weren't completely visible, so shooting me in the cabbage and getting away with it seemed pretty do-able. But still, because I'm an idiot who has a death wish I said, "Man, I bet you a million dollars that without that gun you are a pair of fucking panties!!" All that macho shit went out the window when he shot the gun right beside my ear, *POW*, so after that aggressive statement of sorts I slowly started emptying the contents of my Cross Colors jeans. When I'm nervous I belt out rap tunes, so as I handed him all of my food money I had brought for my New York trip, I uttered the chorus from Gangstarr's "Just to get a Rep:": "Stick up kids is out to get tax!!!..Stick up kids is out to get tax!!" After he was satisfied with what I gave him and put his gun down he said, "Gangstarr right? I fucking love those guys!" and began to run off. That's when I said, "Hey, since we have similar tastes in music how about giving me some of my money back!! A brother has to eat!!" That's when he turned his head mid-jog and said, "You know, I can still shoot you!!"
Dee Lite Song: "Groove is in the heart": Ladies and Gentlemen, when I was 17 years old I had "in-house" like a motherfucker. My parents had befriended this woman from Nova Scotia so she stayed with us for an entire year, a caramel complected temptress named Sherry who is the sole reason that I get a chubby for any woman from Canada or near Canada. Sherry was 29, so I just knew that I wasn't going to get anywhere with her, so my "Hey baby, my dick will touch your small intestines!" lines were just lip service to a woman who I felt only wanted men her own age. So I thought, because one late night I found myself thrusting on top of a woman 12 years my senior like a drugged up test bunny as my dear parents were upstairs fast asleep, unaware that their baby was getting violated in the best ways possible. I love my folks but man were they clueless, her sneaking in my room late night, me muffling her screams as I gave her the "Gyrating beef machine" on top of my He-Man bedsheets, it was so blatant that I knew that we would get caught and my mother would beat her AND me.
She had this thing where she would come in my room in the morning after my parents went to work and give me a "mouth hug" to the Dee Lite song "Groove is in the Heart". Maybe because I was just a kid, or possibly its a testament to her oral skill, but I have to be honest with you and say that I would climax before Q-Tip started rapping. Yeah, whenever I hear this song I reminisce of how a 29 year old woman took advantage of an insecure 17 year old boy, treating his body like her own amusement park at her leisure, doing things to him that would probably scar him for life.. By the way, I wouldn't trade any of that shit for the world.