Leave some shards under the belly

Yesterday, I attended a "this is an anti-bridal shower so just watch me try on courthouse-wedding appropriate attire while drinking champagne" get-together. It was fun in a very New Brooklyn kind of way that made me happy to live in this outer-borough/maroon community.

Even though Brooklyn has evolved into a cool place to eat, shop and live, I still sometimes feel like the blue humanoids in Avatar or the people of Quilombo dos Palmares in 16th century Brazil, who claimed far off pieces of land, constantly under threat by judgments and conquistadors.

I think I hung out with too many Brooklyn bigots.

Anyway, if you have netflix, watch Quilombo instantly on your computer or put it on your queue. The movie follows the rise and fall of a Brazilian hinterland settlement, led (at different times) by warriors Gangazumba and Zumbi. The film features an amazing soundtrack by Gilberto Gill.

Gilberto Gill: "Black joy is the joy that warriors bring."

Here's a clip of the first 10 minutes to whet your appetite for revolution:


BROOKLYN BIGOTS, NANCY KERRIGAN AND SANDWICHES

As I battle skin ash, slathering shea butter all over my body during this incredibly cold winter season, I've had time to reflect on relationships past, questioning my behavior. Am I horrible?

Friend: I think you think too much about "what have I done?" and less about the actions of the other people.

Sax: Those girls are bitches. Fuck 'em.

Friend: I think Sax vocalizes what you are probably thinking deep down.

As a moderate narcissist, I have a tendency to attract other narcissists. Similar to how women choose men who mirror their father, I seem to chose friends that are like my mother. And like my mother, these bitches seem to have a more inflated sense of entitlement than I do, leaving me with occasional Nancy Kerrigan-esque feelings of "why me?" after the proverbial blow.



If only I could be like Lake Bell:


But in between these moments of reflection, I like to swim. After swimming, I like to sit and steam. Last week, in the white-tiled water closet, I chatted with a friendly German housewife. Married twice, I asked her for some marriage advice:

German housewife: 1) Give them sex whenever they ask. 2) Always make them a sandwich.

Me: I guess I could do that.