your honor, my client ain’t really like that fr
“sharks: have you ever chatted so much shit that you found yourself in a low blood sugar situation? introducing…yap snacks”
seeking solidarity with unstable people is nasty work yet we’re forced to clock in
them unicef commercials couldn’t cook today because for the price of a cup of coffee today…those African kids would be living better than us
how long until there’s an erectile dysfunction pill that fights microplastic buildup in the ballsack
old woman who lived in a shoe gotta drop the architectural digest
mood swings? nah, you a whole mood playground
i’ve been blocked, unblocked, unadded, added, loved, hated but i’ve never been able to watch an episode of friends
the international criminal court gonna send paul blart to the middle east
“nah we ain’t broke up, we just had a mismatched freak, nahmean”
y’all fucked up by making fun of them emo white boys because all they did is hop in the studio and complain on the beat now they be shooting up and shooting up
been doing more synthesizing of readings to write loosies and scripts lately so i’ve been just rewatching stuff and trying to dig into my feelings around it.
marvel’s what if…? — okay, i know they’ll never make this episode but i wrote a spec script about the black captain america called “What If…Isaiah Bradley Was Never Imprisoned?” let me know what you think. was gonna save til juneteenth but why even do that? we might not even be here by then.
x-men 97 — look, i dunno what’s going on at marvel so all of my opinions on beau demayo could be way way off but…my man put his whole dick and balls into this show, my GOD (let it be noted that if he did anything else with his dick and balls that’s untoward at work, i ain’t know). cyclops finally became a leader again, storm brought the thunder, remy…remyyyyyyyy, magneto served at the drop of a hat, and nightcrawler showed us what bamf stands for fr fr. it felt a little condensed, mad stories were collapsed, and rushed but man did i have a blast and can’t wait for season 2. rogue, my life belongs to you.
gone girl — look, ben affleck playing a simpleton the way he was is incredible but rosamund pike said “word? imma make you match my freak” and all of us were like “damn shorty we thought you were gonna just shit talk like the rest of us.” fincher and flynn bodied it — this is like my 6th rewatch. rosamund pike in ths movie is the reason my sleep paralysis demon is a regular white woman. incredible work. dialogue, fire. shot composition, tough. score, heat. performances, gas.
hacks — okay, I’m caught up. this show is perfectly fine. like it’s just fine to me. love a little intergenerational dynamic. there will be no jean smart slander at all; she’s a legend. best scene in all three seasons so far is when deb hops onstage and pays a man to never do stand-up again — that shit is a FANTASY but it was so well-executed. i think i’m turned off by the show because it hits close to home having to navigate lowercase n narcissistic people in stand-up and hollywood and the grating overly analytical weaponized allyship speak be making me wanna fight. and it’s too LA for me — specifically the part of LA that would c-walk to k.dot’s “not like us” without knowing what the c stands for.
the most fleshed-out dynamic between ava and deb is endearing and i genuinely enjoy elements of it but the other stories don’t hit the same (although i do pray marcus finds love, peace, and work-life balance) — they almost feel like an afterthought. we write what we know: why do shows like this with this cultural cache always relegate bipoc stories as secondary or in service capacities? art sometimes imitates life unconsciously.
when you pitch a show, people say not to make it too hollywood inside baseball and this show is on stand-up’s dick crazy. like if you’re gonna ride that hard at least say yee-haw, shit. it feels like it was a later-stage #metoo pitch where female stand-ups reclaimed their time and found solidarity (a necessary fight that i wholeheartedly support) but it still reads very white feminist, not very class conscious, still very self-centered and not in a “let’s spread the justice” way. a homie rightly said that ava’s character could easily be a reductress writer (…and yes. hard agree. hardest agree.). i dunno, open to more conversation and other perspectives.
two weeks back we lost our grandma, ma ramata. she was from kayes, mali but set up shop in mauritania where she raised my pops. every time i touched down in aioun, her crib was one of the first places we popped out to and you could feel everyone in the neighborhood’s respect for her and my grandfather kaw — that well-deserved elder respect and islamic spiritual alignment that is so ethereal it almost becomes corporeal.
when i got the news from my mom, it hit me in waves. i hadn’t seen her since 2019, i knew she was getting more frail and the hip replacement wasn’t taking — i felt it deep in my stomach that time was running out. planned on a trip home this year but the strikes, well, struck. i tried to remember our last greetings, how hard her fit was, and our last hug. that last one broke me — tearing up crazy as i write even this.
while we have many more conversations about our feelings now, i was very happy to have an illuminating and refreshing conversation with my dad about losing the woman who raised him (a deep fear of loss i carry every day). genuinely proud to be part of this family lineage and every moment i get to share that love and pride with my family — blood-related and otherwise — is another happy moment.
love yours. that’s it. quran says life doesn’t belong to us. it’s a gift — we don’t choose the beginning or end we choose how to use it and share it.
grandma ma, thanks for sharing your life with us 📿
monday — shame roulette: late-stage online activism 🌱
call your family, hold ‘em tight.