Hello Blog family,

One goal on the list is to keep up with my Gratitude once a week, so i've selected Fridays to do so. Here goes:

* My editor whom I met for lunch, going over my writing progress

* For casual days, no heels, no suits, wonderful!

* Miss Aminah Love who doesn't have the faintest clue at how talented she really is. She easily flirts with poetry, nothing but inspiration is felt through her words. Show her some love, please stop by her blog and let her know you've blessed her page.

* Finding focus and guidance at the librairy: 1 hour, 4 books later and i'm able to tell stories and lies between good and evil, feeding the soul of many with powerful words

*Can't have enough of Blick Art Store or Pearl Paint, i'm at these stores at least once a week, buying supplies
This week's purchase:
--Canvas 18x18, 6x6
--Acrylic and oil paints
--2 brushes

* Bold and colorful flyers created for the Tavern of Creativity event next month (9/15), much thanks to Aminah Love. I can't believe Xavier will be here to attend my event, all the way from Florida to sell his book Lover's Anonymous and to spit some erotic verses

Here's a little piece I wrote this morning, based on a true story:

My average rating?
Short hair
Makeup minimal
No heels
No butt-enhanced jeans

When walking the streets I barely get a pause in the predatorial department.

A male friend once told me "What men want is for your ass to squeeze in a size 6 jeans, pull that thin hairline with braids and pretend, just pretend you can tolerate 3-inch heels. That way we can at least see your face."

I decide to follow the rules by pulling my hairline and wearing makeup. It does get me noticed for 1 day. Hell, even Bill Clinton blows up my cell saying he dumped his hoes in Harlem and wants to taste me casually.

I cross the street, a man yells "Beyonce" out of his car. I ignore the paparazzi, but on a crowded train a woman and her son compliments me.
She says, "You look like Beyonce."
I blurt out, "More like a broke-ass Beyonce."
Everyone laughs except me. I'm frustrated. The fact that my braids are tight, ass hurts, eyes and nose itches with makeup. I am in no mood for compliments.

Guys at work leave me their cell numbers on stickies at my desk, marriage proposals are sent via email.

Are you serious? Hair and makeup makes me feel like an American Express, don't leave home without it.

My girlfriends clock me from head to toe, they accuse me of seeking too much attention. Whatever!

At Poetry night I step to the mic, no one believes I'm a poet until I open my mouth and spill out verses like butta. Suddenly, I am ME again.

Right there, I cut off the braids, wipe off the makeup and unbutton the jeans.

I look into their male ego eyes and tell them this is all of ME. Take it or leave it.


A poet yells out in the crowd, "Yo Cathy! that was hot. Do you, baby. Do you."

art "Inner Calm" by Cathy Delaleu