At A Moments Notice...

Darling I want you to listen | I stayed up all night, so I can get this thing right | And I don't think there's anything missing | Cause a person like you, made it easy to do... ~Amel Larrieux, Make Me Whole

A few weeks ago soul of a man asked me when was I going to recap our meeting. He said the blacks wanted to know. Ever dedicated to the wants and needs of my people, I set out on a task to recapture that moment I first looked into your eyes Christmas Day 1999 at the crowded but musically effective Rockwells. I wanted the blacks to feel what I felt the night I whispered to my boy Rob "Damn that's my type..." I wanted them to experience the aniexty I felt the next eleven months, waiting for my chance to love you. And oh God how I wanted to love you...

I wanted them to venture back with us to our very first date at Jackson's Hole October 31th, 2000. I wanted them to sit with us at that table as we talked, and talked and talked about life, love and the pursuit of that thing we so often disregard, happiness. I wanted them to feel that thump in my heart, and the wetness of my hands almost three hours later when we said our goodbyes @ 14th Street and 6th Avenue. I wanted them to wait with me as three long weeks would pass before I would get the chance to see you again. I wanted so much to express to them how nervous I was the first time you sat on my sofa, for no other reason but to see me. I wanted them to watch My Best Friends Wedding with us. Laugh with us. But most of all, witness the very beginning of us...

I wanted them to travel with us that very next morning when we took my niece and nephews to see How the Grinch Stole Christmas. And oh how I wanted them there the night you whispered the words I wanted to hear from day one, that you too wanted it to be about us, only us. And yes, though I never, ever want to repeat those days, I wanted them to witness first hand the friends who set out to destroy what we had just begun to build. But even more than that, I wanted them to see how two people from two totality different backgrounds came together and created a love like I had never seen before. I wanted to show them how much you add to me, and just how little you take from me. I wanted them to see how often we talk about all the shit most couples are too afraid to talk about. I wanted to reveal all of those things and more, but I didn't. I didn't because for some reason the words just wouldn't come. They just would not find me. But one day, they'll know and understand just how much sdotporter means to me. One day...

And I find myself thanking your mother | For giving birth to a saint | My spirit flies when I say your name | If there's one thing that's true | It's that I was born to love you...~Amel Larrieux, Make Me Whole

Enjoy your day baby, enjoy every last fucking minute of it. You of all people deserve it. Happy, Happy Birthday...

You and me?

See every time I try to leave, you think of new reasons of why I should stay. | Every time I say no, I can't believe you still get mad 'cause I won't give you your way... ~Jaguar Wright, The What If's

I try to maintain them. I try to be honest within them. But for the life of me I can't understand why friendships and I don't mix. But you know what, it's not that, because I have been friends with my boy Jon-Jo, my homegirl Nicassa, and countless others for 15 plus years. What it is, is these bullshit-fake-ass friendships I've seemed to stumble upon recently. Sdot , *peering dangerously over my shoulder* says I'm being a little too harsh, but fuck that, I'm sick of the format: you're my friend when I agree with you, but when I don't: hot damn' ho here we go again...

*Holds breath, and counts to ten..*

Ah-ight so let me begin again. I've been blessed to have my fam in town for the holidays. My parents live in Georgia, and as a result I don't get the chance to see them as often as I would like, so, when I do get to spend time with them you best believe I make it my business to focus entirely on them. A rational mind would understand this. A rational mind would also understand the holidays bring on a whole new set of rules, responsiblilities, etc., so if things tend to slip, they know not to take it personally. An irrational mind on the other hand, will raise all types of hell if you fail to return their phone-call within a specified amount of time.

I can't be everything to everybody. I can't be with my parents, on the telephone, returning e-mails, purchasing gifts, planning the next quarter, hanging with friends, spending time with Sdot, promoting my novel, organizing speaking engagements, updating my website, helping Sdot babysit his siblings, and fully engaged with everything else going on in my life at the same time. Some things are going to slip. Not because I do not think whatever it is, is un-important, but rather my human-ness does not allow be to be that super-perfect being.

You expect your friends to understand this, especially your closest friends. What you do not expect while in the middle of entertaining 25 members of your immediate family is a phone call from your so-called best bud that starts: "How come every time I call you, you're sooo busy..." and ends (as reported to Sdot): "Y'all actin' like y'all sitting on some throne or somethin'."

More than anything, that shit hurt. It hurt because it came from someone I love. It hurt because it came from someone I've known for years. It hurt because it was said maliciously, with the intent to scar. It hurt because with this friend in particular, we've crossed this point in the road one too many times.

People say I act a little funny | I wouldn't change not for no money... ~TLC, What About Your Friends

Believe it or not, already, it's beginning. People are treating me differently, why...I don't know. But, if this is a sign of things to come: people blatantly attacking you because they think you're leaving them out, then maybe it's time for me to envoke my Spiritual Caller ID as defined by author Kevin E. Taylor in his book Unclutter, Cleanse Your Spirit, and Claim your Stuff, so that I'll have one less bell to answer.

Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christams a lot! | But the Grinch, who lived just north of Who-ville, did not. ~ Dr. Seuss, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

This Christmas, as not to be considered a grinch, I vow not think about:

The headache I am sure to recieve shopping for things I can't afford.

The look on my nieces and nephews faces when they don't get what they asked for.

How fucked up the world really is.

How tired I am worrying about it.

How annoying it is once you really get to know someone.

How little people care.

How love can really get on your nerves sometimes.

How un-comfortable my new place feels.

How frustrating it is to meet someone you admire, only to learn their attitude sucks!

How caught up some people are in their own little world.

How tiring partying can be.

My friends who lie for sport.

How annoyed I am with George W. Bush.

How annoyed I am with religion.

How difficult it is to smile, when what you really want to do is sulk.

How tiring promoting a book can be.

How little I sometimes believe in myself.

How expensive everything I want seems to be.

How I sooo want to dream in color.

How annoying it is to be characterized as "alternative".

How long I waited to talk to my family.

How in many ways I still think they judge me.

How much I hate talking on the phone.

My fear of flying.

How annoying Music is right now.

How much I hate American Idol.

How little time I've had to read.

How little my "real" friends have supported me.

What will you not think about this Christmas.

Hate the price of fame cause it cost too much | Can I live without y'all niggas saying I floss too much? | Hate the way you make this hate flow all through us | Steady looking for flaws through us.... Jay-Z, Lucky Me

Ah-ight so, for the most part I hate anything to do with pop culture. To me it seems as if this hollow culture is followed by those with little to no culture or if you really want to get down to the nuts and bolts of it, people with nothing better to do with their life than read and mimic what everyone else is doing. For example pop culture says: "Never, ever under any circumstances whatsoever are you to ever and I do mean ever wear white after Labor Day. Unless of course it happens to be winter white which trust will be all the rage this winter." I don't know, maybe its just me but uh, what the hell is the difference between white, and winter white? And who really cares--because if someone really wants to let you have it about having white on do you think they're going to pause in the middle of their read and ponder..."Now is that winter white...or white, white?"

Believe me, I try real hard not to get caught up in what Pop Culture deems acceptable, or unacceptable because once I do, it becomes that much more difficult to be what I want to be without someone breathing down my neck spewing shit like: Oh that's not how so and so does it...

I'm saying, can I live? Can I do me?

Which brings me to the purpose of this rant. This morning while flipping through the latest edition of VIBE (one of the many nicely packaged gifts graciously given by Nathan Scott and .Daily at their HOMME Calendar Release Party.) I ran across the Not Ready for Prime Time VIBE Awards. The one that annoyed the shit out of me was the Metrosexual of the Year Award, and the additional caption that read: No really, they're not gay--not that there would be anything wrong with that. The winner was Loon [pictured left], the runner up was Marques Houston, and the lifetime achievement award went to Prince.

Now, this is not the first time I've heard about the Metrosexual, a few weeks ago VH1 listed a whole slew of men they thought fit this category. And if you happen to do a google search on the web you'll see just how popular this new phenomenom has become. There are definitions upon definitions on the quote unquote gay, but not gay man that apparently spends too much time in the mirror, or at the barber shop; or gym; or any other place women or the real homosexual supposively would.

I'm saying though---Can I live? What's wrong with a brother taking care of himself? For years women have rimmed men for having dirty nails, funky feet, bad taste in clothes, fucked up smelly ass apartments--and now that bruhs are stepping up to the plate and taking pride in their appearance they're being labeled Metrosexuals---what the fuck? Do you want the behemoth or the playboy? B.I.G. or Usher? Or do you just not want a man sexier than you? It's the twenty-first century!!! It is about time bruhs start taking care of themselves. And it's high time er'body (bruhs included) stop defining a man by the way he looks or who he sleeps with and start defining him by the way he handles his business. Because that in a nutshell is what makes a man, a man.

This whole Metrosexual shit is annoying. For one, what are they trying to say about me? Are they some how eluding that because I am a same gender loving man I spend every waking moment worrying about the way I look? And two, how does it affect/effect the brother that is told: "Oh, you're a metrosexual?" What is that? Is it a compliment? A diss? Or what?

I'll tell you what it is, it's bullshit! And I hope to God none of my peeps start referin' to each other or others as Metrosexuals.

Mama knew love like the back roads | Used to fall asleep daily in her work clothes | Mom swear you never have to worry again... ~Anthony Hamilton, Mama Knew

Alright so the truth: I don't give half of the artists that make it to the charts nowadays the time of day. Most of them suck, big time--and if the truth must be told I'm sure that's how they make it onto the charts in the first place.

I had heard the yick-yack about Anthony Hamiliton: He's talented; His album is really good; The brother can sang; yadda, yadda, yah. But in my head anything Jermaine Dupri has his hands in isn't worth listening to. Not that I dislike the brother, I'm actually proud of his accomplishments, I just feel his production skills are overrated. (Believe me I'm not a hater. I just play one sometimes on this website.)

Sdot on the other hand was having a fit to purchase the album (he believes the hype way too often) so, much to my disapproval *grits teeth* we purchased Comin' From Where I'm From.

I wasn't going to listen to it. To this day I still have not listened to Whitney's latest CD, or Toni Braxton's--two people I love, and support, but at the same time will not bring myself to listen to the crap they've labeled "new music". I'm saying, what is it about classic artists who have carved their niche and who have seemingly become successful in that niche and their desire to hip-hop-it all of a sudden? I mean, love Hip-Hop---L-O-V-E it--but I love classic love songs too! Especially the ones that encourages us to make love, as opposed to just smackin' it, flippin' it, and rubbin' it down! What has happened to the DIVA? The CROONER? The LOVE SONG?

But, I digress...

So, Sdot comes home from work and says matter-of-factly: "You have to listen to Anthony Hamilton's CD...", and places the disk on my desk. An hour or so later I place the CD in the computer to upload the info to my hard-drive as most of my music is played via the computer, only to find I can't. Apparently some brain in the music industry has made it impossible to play music on your computer if your desire is to play it via your own music software. So I remove the CD and and put on Erykah's new joint instead.

"Have you listened to it yet?" Sdot asks the next day. "I'm telling you Chris..." he says with a little too much conviction, "you're going to love it." So I relent, place the CD in the player and prepare myself to hate it. But...I don't. I actually like the CD. So much so I find myself bopping my head to track after track trying my best to remember the last time a new CD, never mind a new artist has done this to me, and I actually can't think of any except, yes...I almost forgot, the incomparable Jill Scott.

The brother has skills, and his debut album seems to showcase them all. Believe me, I'm not easily impressed, especially when it comes to music and the less than talented C-list artists that have found a following on the airwaves. Anthony Hamilton's voice/style/delivery demands you pay attention to him. He almost insists you not rush through his set, but rather digest each track word by word, beat by beat, verse by verse. I'm in awe of his talent, and his ability to mix R&B, Neo Soul, and Gospel inspired music with such ease. I believe Raphael Saadiq called it Gospel Delic; I call it quality frickin' music.

I wanna thank sdot for staying on my case and introducing me to one of my new favorite artists Anthony Hamilton .

When I think of home, I think of a place where there’s love overflowing | I wish I was home | I wish I was back there with the things I’ve been knowing... ~Stephanie Mills, Home

I'm addicted to HGTV, or any station for that matter that showcases the beauty of HOMME. Saturday while at Derrick L. Briggs Book Club Meeting an attendee asked me how I handled writers block. At first I was stumped. What the hell did I do? Then it hit me--shop! I love furniture, but more than furniture I love creating a warm cozy introspective environment. Whenever Jared, or Kevin, or Dio'genes would work on my last nerve I'd leave the computer and ponder for hours which picture should hang where, and why.

HOMME for me is about comfort. It is about self expression. It is about creating an environment both you and your guest will feel totally at ease. How many times have you been to someone's home and you were afraid to touch anything? Chances are you spent more time worrying about your environment, than enjoying your environment. I like for my guests to feel mi' casa, su casa, so I make sure the enviroment is welcoming.

The pictures you see were taken at sdot's and I last abode. We went all out to create a safe haven for ourselves, our friends and our families by changing everything from the light-fixtures to the kitchen door pulls. To me the place represented everything a HOMME is supposed to be, and I sooo hate that we had to move pre-maturely. We've been in our new place for about four months now and really haven't had the time to dive into creating that awe-inspiring safe haven we once had...but at some point we will. But anyway I'm curious, what does HOMME represent to you? Are you comfortable in your environment? What does it say about you? Are you wild and adventurous? Or cool, calm and collective? What if anything will people find to be quite interesting in or about your HOMME? Curious Mindz want to know...

Also, be sure to check out Nathan Scott's HOMME Calendar, and support a worthy cause!

So what's up...is everyone supporting Ruben or what?

'Cause I need love, love's divine | Please forgive me now I see that I've been blind | Give me love, love is what I need to help me know my name...~ Seal, Love's Divine

I’ve always loved Seal. There’s something about his raspy not quite smooth yet, velvety voice that just takes me to a place full of comfort or, is it warmth, or maybe even possibilities. Yeah, I think that’s it, possibilities.

Today my boy Kevin.Daily spoke about one of my most favorite books, The Four Agreements. I purchased this book in the Summer of 2000 for myself and this dude I was seeing at the time. I had just finished reading Friendships with God, In the Meantime, and If the Buddha Dated and felt based on it’s [The Four Agreements] promise to rapidly transform my life to a new experience of freedom, true happiness and love, I’d give it a shot.

I’d met old boy not long before and we immediately allowed ourselves to get sucked into a whirlwind relationship. Initially it seemed right: We shared many of the same beliefs; had read many of the same spiritual enlightening books; and seemed to really vibe the first time we formally met. And, to top it all off he said something that night I didn’t expect:

“I’ve been wanting you for years.”
I smiled, not knowing what else to say. “Word?”
“Seriously. But I’ve been too afraid to approach you. Call me a punk if you want but, I was scared as hell!”
I laughed. “Scared! Scared of what!”
“Of you not wanting me.” He whispered softly. “Of being rejected…”

I stood there staring into his eyes lost. That was the very first time anyone had ever admitted to watching me, or rather desiring me from a distance. So, if nothing else about him caught my interest that shit alone turned me on…

*Sighs heavily* Why is it so many us enjoy the emotional roller coaster toxic relationships takes us on? Why is it we expect so much from so little? Why is it we often find it difficult to resist these towering-awe inspiring larger than life rides? Why is it we cringe every time we find ourselves in the same situation, only to blink, and find ourselves right back there again?

Old boy and I ended our supposed love of a lifetime before summer’s end. Emotionally it drained me, and I swore off love and its deadly lure forever. Little did I know The Four Agreements would quickly alter that promise…

In reading it I learned first hand how I assumed, took way too much shit personally, wasn’t exactly impeccable with my word, and did not do my best to protect myself from the deadly temptation of a lethal love…

What does any of this have to deal with Seal’s new album IV? Everything. Seal speaks to me the very same way Don Miguel Ruiz does. Through his heartfelt lyrics he challenges me to get it together; he shows me how divine love really is; and how simply infectious and magnetic a touch from someone you love can be.

Seal’s new album takes me to a place I like being, peaceful. So many of today’s artists make their living shocking each other, their fans, and the world. It seems they’ve forgotten the most important force one needs to move people, love. Not lust. Not scantily clad bodies. Not bling, bling…just plain ole’ simple is it good to ya’, love. That shit that helps you know your name. That shit that keeps you dreaming of a better tomorrow. A tomorrow that will see all your dreams and desires come into themselves.

I miss that. I long for that, and Seal always gives it to me. Always, every time.

I'm too sexy for your party, too sexy for your party--too sexy it hurts! ~Right Said Fred

I can't believe I'm an author! And that people are actually reading my words--but more so, enjoying them! I wanna take this opportunity to give a shout out to all the sexy people who have come out to see me at my events and to all the sexy ones who will venture out in the future! I really truly appreciate all the love you've shown me! R-E-S-P-E-C-T find out what you mean to me...

:::S H O U T O U T S:::


With good friends Fred, Tony and Tommy.



Posing with the owners Carmen and Mark of Grand 275, a hot new chic lounge in the Clinton Hill section of Brooknaum, after a signing.



Charles and Karim after a signing...



Writer Cody Williams getting lost up in the crowd...



Friends, Eric, Beverly and Nikole posing with a friend...



Aaron and New Jersey talk show host Joy Holloway...



My family a.k.a. the cashiers holdin' it down, Stephanie, Anna, Patricia, Betty...



Lynda (far right) toasting it up with her cousins...



Big up to Big Stace and a guest...



Karim hanging tough with my main man Steve...



Tony, Derrick, and the great Nathan Scott



It's been rumored that after reading my novel many have needed a drink...hmmm

"My life is no different than anybody else's. I had to realize this. I had to come to grips with this. We all go through ups and downs. We all get stuck sometimes. It's what we do to get un-stuck that counts." ~Christopher David

I used to be one fucked up motherfucker. I swear, no kidding. I used to believe my problems/issues/dilemma’s or whatever you want to call the shit that used to give me headaches beyond belief were bigger and greater than anything your little mind could conjure up. I really did. I was caught up in my own little world oblivious it seems to the realities of the real world.

Talk about jaded---shit!!!!!! There was no way in the world anyone could love me, at least not the way I wanted them to love me! Simply because in order for them to love me, they had to understand all my shit—the shit that inretrospect made it almost impossible for anyone to love me. All applicants had to say the right thing; walk the right way; deal with my drama, which included bouts of self-loathing, moments of withdrawal, and bursts of anger. And if by some chance they were unable to fulfill their obligations as the potential Mrs./Mr. David, I immediately showed them the stage exit.

Shit…cause I wasn’t about to waste my time dealing with a mofo who didn’t understand me.

And then there was the fam. Love the fam. L-O-V-E the fam. But in my head, the fam didn’t love me. They didn’t understand what it felt like to be confused, lost, and mad as hell at the entire fuckin' world! From where I stood it seemed they had no fuckin’ clue what it was like to piss God off, royally! So I distanced myself from them. In other words I backed the fuck up, and let them do them, while I did me.

Then one day, like the walls of Jericho, my life caved the fuck in. What I thought made sense, all of a sudden didn’t make sense…what I thought mattered, didn’t matter. Cliché-ish, but true. During the fall of 1996 I realized I was not the man I wanted to be—more-less the one I led others to believe I was.

I was a liar. A bullshit artist. A false pretendah! I was everything I never wanted to be, and I hated it---it, and the person staring back at me in the mirror. When I realized that…when I realized who I was or rather, who I had become, I knew I had no choice but to change.

ALT-CTRL-Delete

I went cold turkey on everyone. I moved, changed my number and began the tedious task of rebooting. I had to, because my attitude had gotten too far out of control. You know that song by PINK “Don’t let me get me”? That in a nutshell was my life.

I worked hard to undo that shit…to recondition my mind, my heart, my soul. I was miserable, and didn’t even know it. Shit, I thought I was happy. I thought I was together, but wasn’t.

The reboot began in 1997. By 2000 after years of working on me and my shit I was truly ready to re-enter the world. In October of 2000 I met and fell in love with the love of my life. In 2001 I had a slight relapse, but recovered rather quickly. In 2002 I dared myself to stand up and be counted. And in 2003 I did the unthinkable: I embraced the possibility to do and be anything my little heart could dream.

My life in no way shape or form is perfect. I still have a lot of shit to deal with. But I am so glad I had the courage to take one step back...

Moving FWD>>>>>>>>

_______________________________
Christopher David will be signing copies of his debut novel, I'm On My Way this week 12.4.2003 @ 275 Grand, Bar and Cafe 7pm (275 Grand Avenue | Between Lafayette and Clifton Place | Brooklyn, New York) and 12.5.2003 @ Browstone Books 7pm (409 Lewis Avenue | Between Decatur and Macon Street | Brooklyn, New York)

I remember thinking we were worlds apart | Until I heard your words and they spoke my heart | I remember thinking I was too far gone| And you reminded me that there is no such thing... ~ Dianne Reeves, I Remember

For some reason this week I have been in a very introspective, retrospective mood, reliving all the moments of my past. Both the good, and the bad, often all at once. Maybe it’s the holidays that’s dredging up these old memories, or maybe, it’s just time to recap.

I ran across an old picture this morning. The picture was taken about six years ago with two of my closest friends at the time. For a while I got lost in the picture remembering all the shit we did, promised to do, and as of date, haven’t done. Damn’ we use to hang…tight. We spoke almost everyday, sometimes several times a day. Our conversations always left me hungering for more. Thinking about those times made me wanna go back and re-live those life-developing moments if only to recapture that piece of me that used to believe all things last forever.

Remember those days?

The times when you thought you and the one you loved would be together always, no matter what, come what may? Maybe for you it wasn’t a friend…maybe it was your moms, or your pops, or maybe your first love. But there was no doubt in your heart and mind, that you’d make it; you’d survive…

But we’re grown now. Shit’s changed. Now we know that people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. We understand that once winter rears its cold winds, fall has no other choice but to surrender. We understand that though we may want to hold onto the past, and the warmth, or chills it may bring, we must let it go, and move on.

But, we can remember…and smile because, though those may have been some really good times in our lives, the best is yet to come.

_______________________________
Christopher David will be signing copies of his debut novel, I'm On My Way this week 12.4.2003 @ 275 Grand, Bar and Cafe 7pm (275 Grand Avenue | Between Lafayette and Clifton Place | Brooklyn, New York) and 12.5.2003 @ Browstone Books 7pm (409 Lewis Avenue | Between Decatur and Macon Street | Brooklyn, New York)

You know you ought to slow down | You been working too hard and that's a fact | Sit back and relax a while | Take some time to laugh and smile ~ SOS Band, Take Your Time (Do it Right)

I used to run into relationships heart wide open ready to give the intended recipient everything I had to give and more. It’s no wonder I found myself picking my heart up off the floor one too many times.

I’m not sure where some of us got it from, but I’d sure like to know: When did we learn to give more than we had, while accepting less than we deserved. When did we start believing by giving, giving, giving—our partner will in-turn give, give, give. Don’t get me wrong, some do…but then there are a hell of a lot that don’t. Some people are out, just to get, that’s it, and when they run into someone that’s more than willing to give—shittttttt hot damn ho’ here we go again!

I’m one of those people. I love to give. I love to share. But it took me a long time to realize not everyone is out to benefit Christopher David. They’re not out to make sure I succeed, or feel good about myself, or in some cases, feel good about them. Their main concern is to ensure their safe travel through this cold, cold, bitter, frustrating world. Which in and of itself is perfectly alright, but do you have to trample all over me in the process?

In a day and age where relationships end, faster than they begin I do believe that it is imperative to get to know the person you are seriously pursuing. By get to know, I mean get to know! Their likes, dislikes, comfort zones, future plans—because there is nothing worse than getting with someone who appears to have it goin’ on, only to find out they’re only one paycheck away from moving in with you and your mama!

Gauge that shit. Talk. Hold out on sex. (That’s right I said it!!) Get to know the them they’re too ashamed to show you upfront, before you start moving all kinds of mountains to be with them. Because, fuckin’ with the wrong mofo you might end up with a hernia, or, at the very least a really, really, really fucked up back.

The truth is, finding someone to love is easy. Finding someone you’re compatible with, well…that’s another story all together. That’s why *duh* you’ve got to gauge that shit!

_______________________________
Christopher David will be signing copies of his debut novel, I'm On My Way this week 12.4.2003 @ 275 Grand, Bar and Cafe 7pm (275 Grand Avenue | Between Lafayette and Clifton Place | Brooklyn, New York) and 12.5.2003 @ Browstone Books 7pm (409 Lewis Avenue | Between Decatur and Macon Street | Brooklyn, New York)

I have two friends infected with HIV.

We never talk about it.

Sometimes I wonder if they know I know. Or, if they hope I've forgotten.

I haven't.

Sometimes I wonder why it's so hard for them--no--for me to talk about their situation. Even that sounds strange...situation.

There's a shame attached to HIV: No one wants it, and no one wants to admit to having it. No wonder we don't talk. We can laugh, and joke about everything under the sun--cry even...but when it comes to their health, the walls go up. Walls so thick, even The Women of Brewsters Place couldn't tear it down.

I want to talk to them. I want to know how they feel---if they can feel, it that is, ravenging through their cells creating all sorts of shames, and the occaisional, if only I had...

I know they think that everyday. Actually, I don't. I only imagine they do. Because we don't talk.

I want to talk. I want to be there. I want to be that bridge over troubled water, that shoulder you lean on when the weight of the world begins to shift a little to quickly. I want to be that friend you call in the midnite hours and say, "Hey, I need to talk..." I want to be a friend, a real friend--that type of friend that's always there, always, in all ways. But most of all, I want you to trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust me?

Talk to me...

_______________________________
Christopher David will be signing copies of his debut novel, I'm On My Way this week 12.4.2003 @ 275 Grand, Bar and Cafe 7pm (275 Grand Avenue | Between Lafayette and Clifton Place | Brooklyn, New York) and 12.5.2003 @ Browstone Books 7pm (409 Lewis Avenue | Between Decatur and Macon Street | Brooklyn, New York)