Inspired by Purple Rain

You ever listen to a song from your past at the precise, perfect moment in your life? You ever feel like the world is conspiring against you? And it seems no matter how long and hard you trudge uphill, the terrain never levels out? Nor do you reach heaven? And you keep coming up short only reaching cloud 8? And it gets so tough because you feel like you’re doing it all alone? And you want to cry, but you can’t because in order for the world to perceive you as strong, you must look strong? And you can’t complain because nobody gives a shit; it’s your problem? And no matter how infuriating a set of 24 hours can be, you have no choice but to wake up and do it all over again? Has your breakfast ever tasted bad because your stress made you smoke so many cigarettes the night before that they have temporarily branded a funky taste in your mouth that somehow coats your toast like peanut butter? Have you wished you had brushed your teeth before going to bed? Have you ever looked someone in the face? And have them understand from your gaze that you’re having a rough go of it? So that person looks away and walks away too? How much do you appreciate that person? Have you ever loved and not been loved back? By something tangible? By something intangible? By something simple? By something esoteric? By something metaphysically real? By something physically unreal? Have you despised making yourself not love what you once loved unequivocally? We’ve all had to do that at some point. And if we haven’t, then we’re damn lucky. To one or all these things, have you ever?

I’ve seen Purple Rain. It glimmers from the midnight sky and induces tears not felt until you see it. It’s a sadness that comes un-reprimanded by the human emotion, generally engaged in fighting back moments like this. Worse than the bearer of bad news, purple rain is the bearer of bad memories. And once the bad memories come, so do the bad feelings. Uneducated. Educated. We’re all victims of the same life lesson. The same life lesson that teaches us we don’t control our emotions, especially when they come strung together as above. The one great understanding that comes from all of this is the following: To know purple rain is to know sunny skies; though they cannot exist in tandem, they exist in contrast. Thank God for both.

Things have changed. . .

Do you remember those old sitcoms from the 80s/early 90s? Invariably, they’d all do some sort of episode where in the star goes back home, or someone comes back to their old surroundings. And someone says the now infamous words, “you’ve changed!” Hell, even first season of the Boondocks had a similar episode.

Well I’ve been the victim of this retort over the past few years. Whether I’ve gone back to my neighborhood in Brooklyn, NY, or have gone to hang out with some high school friends or even some college friends, I have heard this phrase uttered in my direction. Well, I’m here to say once and for all to all those inquiring:

You damn right, I done changed!!

And why shouldn’t I? I don’t dress the same because I have more money. I hang out in better places to stay away from riffraff and folks that USED to frequent the places I visited; I got tired of them not changing. I got older. Wearing sports jerseys is no longer adequate social attire for me. I prefer the tedium of putting on cufflinks any day of the week to sliding on a number enveloped in funky colors. I’ve traded in my Nike’s and Diesel shoes for Adidas Originals and Coach Shoes.

When and if I dine out, chances are the restaurant will be expensive. Drinks will be expensive. So unless you’re a teacher who I completely understand is overworked and underpaid, don’t ask me how much an evening is going to cost. My answer, unlike me, will not change: A lot!

Though I wear my hair nappy, don’t confuse that for me not getting a haircut. I do—and generally that gets done the same day I get a manicure. I’m in corporate meetings all day where people stare at my face when I talk and stare at my hands also because I use them to talk.

I dry-clean about 90% of my clothes, so if you spill something on them, damn right I’m going to look at you funny. That’s not me changing. That’s me being upset because my clothes cost a lot and I don’t spill things on them myself.

I like Alvin Ailey, not Restoration events. I like Loews in Lincoln Plaza, not Loews on 42^nd Street. I prefer trips out of town to trips cross the neighborhood. I prefer a home cooked meal to McDonald’s. And I prefer close friends to large crowds.

I have changed and I don’t apologize for it. What I do recognize is that by me changing, some people will understand that and continue to be with me. And some people will not understand and cease being with me. I am comfortable enough with both scenarios to accept them as they are. And I love you all, all the same.

This public announcement has been paid for by the JG Foundation. All words and opinions expressed here are those solely of JK Adams. Nothing said is anecdotal, but are true stories piloted by his very own self-pride.

KIM – Keep it movin’

Taste Buds

It tastes—
Tastes bittersweet
Like orange peels
And sour apple green candies
The hubris of love
Falls tenderly
Like jackets over weary shoulders
Or like melancholy
Over grieving hearts

His name
Once said in vain
‘Cuz we ignore the message
Fearing we know not how he came
But he’s here and we’re here
And space does not exist betwixt the two
Spiritually aware
They are
We are
One

I reheat my witches brew
And drink thirsty the elixir of you
You taste—
Taste bittersweet
Like pumpkin seeds
And tamarind treats
The jungle heat from your body
Soothes my aches away
Leaving me restless
Though I don’t want to play

I’m serious this time
I thought I was serious the last time
But this time I’m for real serious
And I need you to be
Where I believe myself to be
And we can believe ourselves that we

Need to taste this
Together
Like—
Like a kiss
And hopefully
Just hopefully
We can have similar
Taste buds

Conundrum Woman

I don’t pity you, because I don’t understand you, see?
And I fancy myself smart so I can’t be the only one
You tell me you know what you like and that’s me
But when I begin to reciprocate, you just up and run

You speak to me candidly and ask for my opinions
When you have no ideas, is when you make up your mind
You speak of needed new experiences, control of your dominions
You experience freshness when the rest of the world feels un-sublime

At points in our lives, from your speech, it appears you’re detached
You're wide awake, when the rest of the world thinks you’re sleep
Your make-believe reality is a perpetrated state of being unmatched
You hate all manner of desserts, but want your life to be a treat

You are a conundrum woman, a walking contradiction
Of what you do and what you say that you are
It is often hard for me to comprehend the energy you’re deliverin’
When not only physically, but mentally we’re separated by ‘far’

I know I could be good to you, I know I know what works
I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know
But without your generous and necessary commitment to lurk
There is no way for me to take my knowledge and allow US to grow

So for now, I have become contented with these very solid facts
That what I have to offer will always make you come undone
My signs, convoluted by your impalpability to discern freedom from pacts
An inability that will forever make you my conundrum woman

M&Ms

“Incredible,” I say
That we can live this way
“Incredulous,” I say
That we allow it to happen anyway
It’s impossible that we could allow him
To confuse minds with mines
Or maybe it was us
Maybe we heard minds when he said “mines”

I speak of Bush
He’s a radical of the highest kind
Because he’s figured out how to speak a word
And have it mean nothing of which it is spoken
We have manage to let him
Take our kids
And rather than blowing up minds
He’s using them to blow up mines
The roving kind

Strapped to bodies of people so zealous
They do not see other bodies
They see a country un-personified
As oppression
But they are indeed persons
They are our children
Get them from over there

But then, once you get them from over there
Don’t bring them back here
They’ll be uncelebrated
They’ll be like the other kids here, un-educated
If they’re a minority, they’ll be unappreciated
Though done with that war, they’ll be elated
Coming home to fight this war, they’ll become exasperated
Like I am, hearing them speak and realizing the ignorance
Of a brain left untrained

Not knowing the difference between mines and minds
We walk into one; we walk away from the other
What’s the difference?
M&Ms