Wreck in the City

Though I am heading for a lunchtime viewing of Sex and the City today (courtesy of my company), a friend of mine surprised me with the purchase of a ticket for the 12:30 AM showing. Although I consider myself to be a fan on the series - these folks were obviously die hard who - having awaited the arrival of this moment since the show's conclusion in 2004. The thing that I enjoyed so much about the series was that the connection - full of candid talks, salty banner, love, men, shopping and of course sex - felt, well, real. What the movie provides is a failed attempt at re-creating the same magic - an end product that is overstuffed with superficiality and materialism, almost raunchy sex scenes and humor more appropriate for films in the "American Pie" genre. The movie was way too long, un-unnervingly predictable and the plethora of subplots made it feel like this was five episodes forced together in an attempt at weaving something cohesive. There was no spirit of freshness - the fact that the characters hadn't changed bothers me, as I expected broader, deeper more nuanced characters - yet I was left with simple contrite characters that could only be lovable to the most devoted. Should we expect more at 40? There was once a time in my life in which a fitted, baggy jeans and timbs were both sexy and acceptable for me or the guy that I was dating at the moment. Yet, as we get older and more mature what was once acceptable; just ain't any longer. The fact that he may still look good in that get-up at 36 doesn't mean that he should wear it. There has to be progression, right? In that same vain this was my expectation for Sex and the City, and I unfortunately, was let down - as a once brilliant TV show, was reduced to nothing more than 2 1/2 of branding for Apple, Louis Vuitton and Vitaminwater.

Just Because...

1. So my homie-lover-friend and I took his homegirl out on a date this past Saturday. She just had a really bad break-up and we wanted to do something nice for her, so I got us tickets to see a play by written by an emerging playwright I really enjoy. Our homegirl teaches theatre, so I thought this would be perfect. I rarely proclaim anything to be amazing. Yet, Tracy Scott Wilson's latest play, The Good Negro is nothing short of it. The writing, the direction and the acting are all pitch perfect. I had my hesitations - a show about the Civil Rights Movement - yet Wilson brings forth a fresh perspective - exposing the tension of the Movement (under the watchful eye of the FBI) brought about by jealousy and alleged affairs in this drama that takes (not explicitly) Dr. King and the Movement to task. Wilson's intent is not malicious. What she does is show a balanced picture - a man who is torn between his duty, obligation and ambitions and his personal needs and desires. Wilson also explores the toll on which all of these things affects wife. There are a number of other sub-themes that help to masterfully construct this fine work. What the audience is left with is broader more human side of what movement was about, as well as some perspective on the government's "interest" in the Movement. It makes you wonder about the "governmental scrutiny" that our first viable Black candidate for president must be experiencing. Please check it out if you are in the city. It runs through June 1st at the Public Theatre.

http://www.publictheater.org/component/option,com_shows/task,view/Itemid,158/id,904

2. Sex in the City opens on Friday. My company is sending us to see it on Friday during lunch. I’m the only man. I would rather go home, than see the movie with a bunch of folks I don’t even care for. How gay is this?

3. I bought a g-shock watch recently. It’s called the “baby g.” During my trip home, my mother asked if “baby g” stood for “baby girl.” I gave her a blank look and burst with laughter. She not funny.

4. Speaking of being back at home, Atlanta wasn’t everything I needed it to be, and on top of everything, I got stood up by friends I really wanted to see. You know who you are. Lol.

5. I watched the DL Chronicles this weekend. I really enjoyed it. It’s so much better than Noah’s Arc.

6. The new Kehinde Wiley Exhibit (I want to marry him) opens at the Studio Museum of Harlem in July. I can’t wait. Wiley, known for his stylized paintings of urban African-American male youths in poses borrowed from eighteenth- and nineteenth-century European figurative paintings, continues that process, this time with models in poses based on regional sources – this time Nigeria and Senegal.

Me and the Mystery Man

Now, I am not one to be shy or be easily intimidated, but for some reason the "mystery man" had me vexed. I ran into him at the opening of an art exhibition about two months ago. We exchanged glances across the room - he mouthed, "Good to see you here tonight" - I replies with a smile - "good to see you too." Never mind the fact that I didn't know who this man was. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him. My hope was that, if we had met, that my impression had been a good one. While I feigned to be a true art connoisseur, he walked passed grabbing my hand to signal his departure. I was sorry that he had left without a formal introduction. So this past weekend, to my surprise, who did I run into, but the mystery man? He smiled and acknowledged my arrival to the party. I smiled; ran to the bar and hurriedly order a Ketel One and tonic. When I turned to head back in his direction, I noticed a good friend of mine was making small talk with him. I needed some quick info, so I sent my friend a text message. He ended the conversation and came to my aid. He informed me of who the mystery man was. I was impressed (I found out today that he is even more impressive than I had first thought). My buddy let me know he wanted to make my acquaintance at which point I winced; overcome with this nagging feeling of nervous energy that I had not felt since picking teams in grade school. I told my friend I needed to say hello to some folks first and I would talk to you-know-who once I was done. I forced myself in to extended conversations about the music, the housewarming I had just left and the inability to find a decent one bedroom apartment in Harlem for under $1500 - anything to occupy my time. Finally, having resolved some of my angst, I set out to meet Mr. Man, at which I was informed that he had hopped into a taxi only a few minutes earlier. I was half crestfallen; half relieved. Was I intimidated by the mystery man? Did I feel like he was out of my league? What does dating in your league mean? Is it better to date down? Help a brother out. I hear the mystery man will be attending a certain cultural event next week. Maybe I'll drop in?

Just Because...

1. Have you ever noticed that in Missy's "Hot Boys" she says that she wants a "top boy?" So is Missy a bottom? Nah, vers… lol

2. So Barbara Walters likes black D; huh … Barbara Walters now says she had a past affair with married U.S. Senator Edward Brooke. Appearing on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" scheduled to air today, Walters shares details of her relationship with Brooke that lasted several years in the 1970s. In 1966 Edward Brooke's decisive Senate victory made him the first black elected to the Senate in the twentieth century.
3. I know it's not politically correct… but if I'm going to do porn, and by do, I mean watch, I prefer coco dorm circa 2003.

4. On Saturday, we were encouraged to engage in the blackout - spend no money - in protest of the Sean Bell verdict. Any news on how that went?

5. Someone mentioned to me that the only thing worse than no money is new money… at which I noted that America is only 231 year old… so all money… here in America… is new money…

6. I'm kind of surprised that the Keyshia Cole reality show is going to be on DVD.

7. How do we feel about men in sandals/flip flops?

8. So what is it about Nick Cannon?

9. Why do I feel bad about the Star Jones, Al Reynolds divorce?

10. I’m going to a housewarming on Saturday. He’s not registered, and I don’t want to show up with the standard “bottle.” Any suggestions?