In My Write Mind
Note: For the past few days, I've been 'blogcotting,' purposely staying away from Blogger after they made a post about my favorite soundtracks from the past 14 years go *POOF* into the night. I was pissed, to say the least. But that probably had more to do with the fact that I had less than three hours sleep the night before I posted and less to do with the fact that I know that shit happens. So yes, I was blogcotting for the past few days. But that's not the moral of the story. The moral, as always, is that I'm an idiot for not saving my work. Past that, it's been said that writers must write, so below is my latest entry.
Thank You. Management.
**Soundtrack--Let Me Be Your Angel, Stacy Lattisaw, Let Me Be Your Angel**
It would be love at first sight. In fact, it would be more like love at foresight, the kind of love that you see before it happens, using your mind's eye. It would be a love that seems unscripted yet familiar, a romance novel in the making, a type-O kind of love, one that goes with everything and lets nothing stand in its way. That's the kind of love it would be, the kind I have in my heart right now and hope to share one day.
The kind that would be...a love supreme.
It would be that every-song-ever-written-about-love kind of love: a Musiq-Soulchild-love-song-about-love kind of love; a Stevie-Wonder-I-can't-believe-what-God-has-done kind of love; a Spinners-could-it-be-I'm-falling-in-love kind of love; an India.Arie-ready-for-love kind of love; a Hi-Five-unconditional-love kind of love...
Yes, a love supreme.
I've seen this kind of love almost every day of my life. Seen it on trains, planes and automobiles, in different states and countries, in the streets in the middle of the day, in restaurants and at friends' homes, in movie theaters and even at Carnegie Hall. I've seen the smiles that accompany such love, the love in the eyes and heart that represent such love, the plans that are made due to that love, the precautions that are taken to protect such a love. That supreme love.
I've had dreams about that kind of love. Almost had it, but not quite. Gave a name to it, but never had the chance to call it. I look forward to that love with all that I have, will be ready for that love when it comes, and am not afraid to talk about it or think about it any time of the day. It's a nurturing, spoiling, protective, teaching, lead-by-example, disciplinary, sho-u-right, not-until-I'm-married kind of love. A just-right kind.
This kind of love is not only supreme, but special. The kind that inspired Fats Waller to write Honeysuckle Rose and sing "when you're passin' by....flowers drop and sigh and I know the reason why." The kind that inspired Betty Mahmoody to pen the tome Not Without My Daughter. The kind that inspires fathers to be fathers, not just baby-daddies. The kind that makes me proud to be a man.
"Hello? Yes, one supreme, please. Hold the drama. How soon can it get here?"
Not soon enough. And while that love isn't yet here in the physical, mentally, it's been here for a while. Ready to share. Ready to show itself. Ready to be born. Ready for the world. The kind I think about but don't obsess over. The kind that, like a crush or a fine wine, will all reveal in time.
And when and if I'm fortunate enough to have my first daughter, that's the kind of love she will receive. A John Coltrane 1964 masterpiece circa [insert date here] Will Dawson declaration.
Indeed, a Love Supreme.
(Hello, Russell? Yes, I'd like to know when the auditions for Def Poetry are...I think I've got one for you...LOL)
scribbled by Will at 1/27/2005 07:34:00 AM
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I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. (Joan Didion)
The Write One
Will. Lefty. Since Summer 1971. Over the next six months, I'll be saying some hellos, some goodbyes. Living, laughing, growing. Don't.miss.a.word.
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