Sugar Milk

A NSFW Blog:

Writer. Researcher. Observer. Aspiring minimalist. Photographer. Music collector. Social Drinker. Sex enthusiast. Urban. Queer. Accepting. Public Transportation.
Spring and Autumn Memoir

Posts tagged qws

I see you boo…playable hair self.

  • while i’m glad to finally have my haircut after a month, it would be even more incredible to have a barber who had some concept of the word “taper” — it looks like my neck line stops/starts at my ears.
  • pat metheny made me cry today. again. it’s one thing for a song to make me cry. it happens often. in fact, music is the one thing that can make me cry more than anything else in the world. even if i’m sad and can’t get the tears out, half notes and quarter notes and dissonant chords will push them motherfuckers right down my face. HOWEVER, for a particular song to make me cry more than once is rare. and i swear he gives me proof on “The Way Up”
  • today feels like sunday - therefore my bags are completely packed for my trip. i just wish i had one of those extended battery juice packs. because the iPhone 5 battery is almost as reliable as public transportation.
  • here’s a thing about my tumblr crushes: they’re like magazine subscriptions. it’s something new every month. they hold my attention well. i get all up in that cerebral space. swipe all their cologne samples. get into them over a gin & sprite conversation…and then, never recycle, but always add to this masterpiece collage of mine.
  • i can’t wait for brunch.
  • this cali playlist is gon be the shit. all the artists from last night + Flying Lotus, Teebs, Me’Shell N’degeocello, 

you ever want a dick in your mouth?

Listening: Recoiled by Flying Lotus. Get in on this shit. I swear the spirit of Baltimore snuck up into his veins intravenously when he produced this motherfucker right here. 

Reading: new theories on the malaysian flight that got sucked into a the bermuda triangle while it was in the middle of stretching and yawning.

Doing: getting dressed and preparing myself for a night of drinking. my pre-gaming was quite effective (hence the title of this mawfucking post). and my friend i’m heading out with is playing a bunch of FUCKING games making me not even wanna head out. i already passed out pre-game style once tonight. 

Eating: burnt up ass Checkers fries i bought from my grocer’s freezer. had to put some kind of starch up in my bod-bod.

Drinking: amsterdam. straight from the bottle. from the mouth of the bottle to the mouth of my lips. my lips don’t have a mouth. my lips make up the mouth. so yeah. from the mouth of the bottle. to the mouth of me. that doesn’t sound right….. (to the mouth of the quillium. to the mouth of this man. to the mouth of THIS NIGGA RIGHT HERE. naaaahhh to MY MOUTH RIGHT HERE [FOR REAL]. from the lips of the bottle to the lips of the poet. from the bottle to the head. 

i would love to be generous with some brain right now actually.

Wearing: this fucking thermal because i’m cold. and it’s not even cold in here. alcohol.

Feeling:  i know he better hurry up and get here. and because i typed the word “hurry” this entire portion of this entry is to be read in Regina King’s Boondock’s voice.

Weather: it’s chilly outside but it’s nice. like — i should keep this thermal on and a light jacket but nothing too heavy.

Wanting: financial freedom. a financial savior. not to remember everything that’s currently depressing me.

Needing: all of the things that i want. it’s balled into a needwant.

Thinking: i can’t wait to fucking take pictures of Rah! tomorrow.

Enjoying: Rah! and typing this in front of boogie. he’own give a fuck.

:qws:

he woke up…

  • i woke up this morning at 7:15a
  • first thing i did was tweet about it. 
  • then i became afraid because i think DST will make me late for work tomorrow.
  • but i’m still extra excited that i woke up today.
  • sharing with a ton of strangers that i’m still here.
  • the last dream i had was of leonardo dicaprio playing “It Is Well With My Soul” on piano.
  • here’s my new chance to get it right.

:qws:

i woke up like this…
:qws:

i woke up like this…

:qws:

I’m no god. I’m no work of art. I’m nothing so paramount that I’d move you to tears….

however,

I’ve been told that my tumblr is quite similar the work of Andy Goldsworthy. The thoughts that I pour out and the way that I weave words; the poetry and the photography. The raw imagery. The mistakes and the spelling errors and the imperfections of my recipes; the lists and the numbers and the minute obsessions. they inspire, if no one else, myself into becoming greater. More advanced. More powerful. 

I’m using periods wrong; also semicolons. 

The videos and the quotes. The darkness and the bright spots too. You’ve all been invited into this mass universe that I’ve created. And I’ve speckled each of you as planets all around my galaxies and nebulas so that you could make up a part of my personal community. I don’t think I ever received a birthday candle from tumblr the three years this blog existed…..

the URL must be synonymous to Jehovah’s Witnesses. yeah. Jehovah’s Witnesses are sweet as milk. a painful sugary drink. mmm gritty. I often think of reaching back and capturing, the compositions to read to my nieces and nephews as bedtime stories once they become school age. Or even to the unborn. So they’ll know what magic sounds like.

But that’s a bit pompous of me isn’t it? Quite.
(insert monocle adjustment here)

well anyway…. eventually the sunrises upon frozen sculptures. And love letters that are written in the sand become forgotten grains under the footsteps of the moon. after while the fragile limbs of my artistry snap, break, and are transcended by seasonal winds….

again I’m no god.
but i’m pretty sure my existence is pretty omnipotent. 

if you’ve been audience enough.

Quillium C. Wordsmith

Coldest Winter Ever

So here’s the past 90 days.

  • What even is 50° anymore?
  • a somber Christmas….
  • a few frozen hearts….
  • beautiful new friends…
  • meticulous irritants…
  • look at that bawwwwdy
  • philadelphia
  • los angeles
  • saint louis
  • cleveland
  • toronto
  • sydney
  • snow shoeing
  • ice walks
  • blackened bridges
  • raw noses

and a soundtrack to go with the whole thing.

"i look upon ever day to be lost, in which i do not make a new acquaintance." Samuel Johnson

then….

"everywhere is nowhere. when a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends by having many acquaintances, but no friends.

Jesus be a scale.

:qws:

You’re single because you’re single. It’s not because you texted too much or too little or waited 33 minutes to respond because he took 23. It’s not because you met up with your ex that night at 5 a.m. that no one knows about, or because you kissed another boy after a date with a loser.

You’re not single because you spit food on that date or tripped coming out the the movie theatre. You’re not single because you hurt your first boyfriend really badly when you were 15 or because you have yet, to this day, to apologize. It’s not because you were secretly jealous when your friend got a boyfriend or that a guy you dated for two months now has a really cute girlfriend and looks really happy. And you’re happy for him. But still ill that he found someone before you.

You’re not single because you slept with your ex boyfriend. You’re not single because half the world found out when you didn’t even want to remember it yourself. You’re not single because you think the guy your friend wants to hook you up with is ugly or not tall enough. It’s not because you’re not willing to put up with someone who doesn’t brush their teeth on a regular basis.

You’re not single because your standards are too high. Good for you for having standards. It’s not because you didn’t like that really, really good guy who wanted to take you on a date and you just weren’t feeling it. And it’s not because you like to wear pajama pants as soon as you get home and wash all the makeup off your face. You’re not single because you didn’t learn enough from the past or would rather chill on a Friday night with your blanket and a cold beer than shower, get ready, and go out. You’re not single because something is wrong with you.

You are single because you are single. It’s really as simple as that. You haven’t made the connection with another heart yet. You can get dolled up, dress cute, cut your hair, dye your hair, tweeze your eyebrows, put on lipstick and you may still. be. single. You can go out to a bar hoping to meet the love of your life and not find a damn one in the place attractive. And it’s going to remain that way until it’s time for you to find one. Stop hoping for it. Start living the life that you do have instead of wishing for things that you don’t have. There will come a time you’ll meet a boy and you’ll have to give up some of this single freedom you currently have. Start being more thankful. Start doing that now.

I may not have a perfect body but I have some excellent parts on it.

—Unknown

Listening: my autumn playlist. these jazz standards are dope but i swear the classical pieces make the leaves fall even more graceful.

Watching: Heartbeats. But I’m not going to finish it. I keep imagining myself cuddled up with a blanket and cup of my chai with the windows completely open and watching this film. But every time I tell myself to make a cup of chai, I’m too full to enjoy it. Thanksgiving has been good to me and I swear I’ve been stuffed for the past three days.

Doing: Preparing for the 3 month hiatus. December - February. Spring and Autumn memoir. Don’t you forget it.

Eating: stuffed.

Drinking: Hot Cinnamon spice tea. I want one of those tea kettles that sit on tea lights. I don’t need it though.

Wearing: a black t-shirt.                                    yup.

Feeling: You know - last night I pulled out my journal from when I was a senior in high school and read an entire entry on contentment and being happy with what I have. Being completely satisfied with going without and finding happiness in experiences instead of in the tangible. It was a bit overwhelming to see that even 13 years ago - I was talmbout this stuff. 

I guess some things never change.

Weather: Overcast - 30°F and we’re supposed to go go-carting today.

Wanting: $2000 worth of electronics and some quiet.

Needing: Just the quiet.

Thinking: About the Sound of Noise, the iPad, the music, this day’s events, and the fact that my entire immediate family was completely split up on Thanksgiving.

Enjoying: what I’m listening to and what I’m drinking.

:qws:

It’s still bright in here.
:qws:

It’s still bright in here.

:qws:

Good News: Grateful
you know what i enjoy? i enjoy the first few paces and strides i take at 515 in the morning. when i step off the grass and into the street; when my walk is swift and my train is rolling. i love the ability to imagine train signals yellow and red flashing simultaneously to watch for cars coming onto the terrace. and to catch myself 4 blocks into the walk and realize, i’ve been singing the whole time without realizing.
i can’t be dreaming because i see the same lexus GX fly by shortly followed by the black camaro and then the blue sentra each morning. they let me know how on time i am while crossing the 28th street bridge. and for my supervisor coming down and leaning her womanhood onto my desk to see how i’m doing. and making sure i’m okay. and for slipping a lunch voucher into my hand for doing, what apparently, is an incredible job.
for the patient who caught my regret faster than i did. “you can sign in if you want.” and before i could correct myself, she picked up the pen and started signing and said, “and what will you do if I don’t want to?” the extra bag of white cheddar popcorn that fell out of the vending machine. that was instant karma. the bag wasn’t for me. it was for the kid in the waiting room whose bag of white cheddar popcorn got stuck in another vending machine nearby.
and the hasbro for treating me to lunch while calling me names the entire time. we literally fought the entire time we were eating. he sickens me. and free food is always more delicious. how mild it was, the walk home. no bag. no umbrella. no worries really. just walking. thinking of ways to google how to enter my name into the downstairs callbox because of how slow my maintenance personnel is taking. but we’re not reporting on that….we’re covering:
sugar cereals with sugar milk. with sugar milk. with sugar milk. and the rhythm the keyboard makes when you repeatedly type things over and over again. and the smell of strong thick lavender and cashmere absorbing into my nostrils. mistaking irritated traffic below as the tremolo of cymbals; so faint. and being clean. and good underwear. and texts. and being clean. 
and sleep hangovers….and very deep inhales inand very slow exhales out….
there’s no death to report. there’s no debt to report. there’s no political errs to be acknowledged. there’s no illnesses or ailments to extol. there’s no attitudes or irritations on shore. no accidental house fires, acts of arsony, robbery or theft. there’s no evidence of greed or dissatisfaction. there’s no wild sexual appetites or sexual assaults to make known. 
just very deep inhales inand very slow exhales out.
that’s it for tonight.
:qws:

Good News: Grateful

you know what i enjoy? i enjoy the first few paces and strides i take at 515 in the morning. when i step off the grass and into the street; when my walk is swift and my train is rolling. i love the ability to imagine train signals yellow and red flashing simultaneously to watch for cars coming onto the terrace. and to catch myself 4 blocks into the walk and realize, i’ve been singing the whole time without realizing.

i can’t be dreaming because i see the same lexus GX fly by shortly followed by the black camaro and then the blue sentra each morning. they let me know how on time i am while crossing the 28th street bridge. and for my supervisor coming down and leaning her womanhood onto my desk to see how i’m doing. and making sure i’m okay. and for slipping a lunch voucher into my hand for doing, what apparently, is an incredible job.

for the patient who caught my regret faster than i did. “you can sign in if you want.” and before i could correct myself, she picked up the pen and started signing and said, “and what will you do if I don’t want to?” the extra bag of white cheddar popcorn that fell out of the vending machine. that was instant karma. the bag wasn’t for me. it was for the kid in the waiting room whose bag of white cheddar popcorn got stuck in another vending machine nearby.

and the hasbro for treating me to lunch while calling me names the entire time. we literally fought the entire time we were eating. he sickens me. and free food is always more delicious. how mild it was, the walk home. no bag. no umbrella. no worries really. just walking. thinking of ways to google how to enter my name into the downstairs callbox because of how slow my maintenance personnel is taking. but we’re not reporting on that….we’re covering:

sugar cereals with sugar milk. with sugar milk. with sugar milk. and the rhythm the keyboard makes when you repeatedly type things over and over again. and the smell of strong thick lavender and cashmere absorbing into my nostrils. mistaking irritated traffic below as the tremolo of cymbals; so faint. and being clean. and good underwear. and texts. and being clean. 

and sleep hangovers….
and very deep inhales in
and very slow exhales out….

there’s no death to report. there’s no debt to report. there’s no political errs to be acknowledged. there’s no illnesses or ailments to extol. there’s no attitudes or irritations on shore. no accidental house fires, acts of arsony, robbery or theft. there’s no evidence of greed or dissatisfaction. there’s no wild sexual appetites or sexual assaults to make known. 

just very deep inhales in
and very slow exhales out.

that’s it for tonight.

:qws:

I used to be a dope ass photographer

Listening: A combination of my fall playlist and my evening lounge playlist. I have a ton of excitement and energy over this music.
 
Watching: I’m watching The Help (again). I tell you what: these movies about the history of African-Americans in this country have a great thread to them but I can only hear all the folks on tumblr pointing out the err and flaws with each film. It’s part of the reason that I haven’t seen 12 Years A Slave yet. (also because I have to have someone hold my hand in heavy movies like that sometimes…..only sometimes) 

Doing: Just got finished planking for 35 seconds. Yesterday was more difficult but that was also because it was accompanied by push-ups.
 
Eating: my diet today - I had three bowls of peanut butter crunch and half a pack of Nathan’s. either i’m a bachelor like a boss or it’s time to go to the grocery store. I’m going to go with the former instead of the latter because I actually  have a full meal I could’ve made but didn’t feel like it.

Drinking: what you know about fresh-out-the-freezer pepsi under a cold window fan when it’s 46° outside?
 
Wearing: I was going to say my favorite basketball shorts but their back story is moreso what I enjoy over the basketball shorts
 
Feeling: energetic over pepsi and music and …. shit. I think I might do some shots. no. don’t.
 
Weather: Negroes say it’s cold. 

Wanting: toys. lots and lots of toys. it’s November - I owe Santa a list.
 
Needing: to stop acting like I’m a born and raised New Yorker who done arrived. nothing about any part of me says get that $700 outfit. nothing.

Thinking: 5 more minutes and the disappointment begins. *sigh*

Enjoying: if this robe had a bury feature i’d be so deep in it with some chai on the side. 

Joseph Tate

and they say writer’s block is no excuse
well mister james i’m here to tell you —
it’s not that i said that i wouldn’t
and it’s not that i absolutely can’t
but my excuse was laid out in that opening line

couldn’t lower the brim of my hat low enough
so the 27th day of october still managed
to coax my cornea and cast spells and voodoo type witchcraft
to bring forth the latency of my crow’s feet.
and we walked slow

and joseph tate
is a nasty bitch
it’s all about letting go
no answer is an answer
sometimes
i just wish mister jones knew how much more intimate
his message could be
if he muted his trumpet

at least i wrote something today.
even if you don’t know what i’m talking about
and i think i am that man
that will change his entire coursenroute
just to watch
but i’ll bitch about being watched all day.

i just wanna see u.
joseph tate is a nasty bitch
and i wanna find out why.

A Low of 36° tonight…

Listening: So I worked really hard on an Autumn Playlist yesterday and now i’m listening to the electronica portion of it. Oh and my windows are still open so I’m also listening to the whirring echo of I-83 down below. Yeah it’s a cloud high regular until we have a high of 40°.

Reading: old posts to remind myself of how I truly define “relationship”
 
Doing: about to hop in the shower and freshen up for this outing happening tonight. I’m going to see Bad Grandpa. Not my first choice by any means. Bad Grandpa is a movie I’d wait to see on Netflix on an extremely bored day off from work. Not something I’d pay $12 to see on fucking opening night. I’ll redeem myself next week on my day off by going to see 12 Years a Slave or Gravity or Carrie or some shit like that.
 
Eating: thinking about the oreo cheesecake cups I just saw. I’m tasting them in my imagination otherwise I ain’t eating a damn thing.
 
Drinking: shit. I forgot to get a 5-hour energy. because between now and the theater house, I’m pretty sure sleep is going to start massaging my shoulders and tell me it’s okay…..everything will be okay; everything is okay.
 
Wearing: grey & navy boxer briefs. the windows are open….
 
Feeling: pensive. to say the least. but I got that good haircut tonight tho’.
 
Weather: Partly cloudy skies, dark, currently 52°. All of my windows are open and I think my window fan is trying to drop a hint. The temperature setting caused it to cut off automatically because of how chilly it is.

I was walking around today sweating, warm, uncomfortably warm. I walked past people who were bundled in scarves, tarps (yeah those), burlap, gloves, and nigga hats. *sigh* they all made me hotter as I saw each of them. 

Wanting: my futon. and to see something other than Bad Grandpa.

Needing: to act like I have $3 in my bank account. instead of this shit that looks like a tax refund. #blessed
 
Thinking: …about what I’m reading.

Enjoying: this cold. this cold. this cold. and this playlist. It’s absolutely delicious.

:qws:

and then there was rain

Listening: Street Etiquette’s Downplay Mix that they posted earlier. This is some of the dopest shit I’ve ever heard. do you hear me?
 
Reading: seriously - until further noticed I’m changing this category to watching. Because unfortunately reading is a struggle for me. I want to change that but honestly - i ain’t reading shit right now.

Doing: making arrangements for a photo shoot tomorrow. it’s becoming an annual thing with Mr. UVanity himself.

Eating: nothing. but that strawberry cheesecake flavored cookie is crooning me with the harmony of a thousand joanna newsoms. i’ma just sit right here and….

Drinking: y’all should taste this vodka. it tastes like grapes. that would explain why it reminds me of white wine

Wearing: the smallest pair of underwear results in the most perpetual wedgie of all time. like i feel a little sexy in them but seriously - let’s discuss their disappearance in this…here.

Feeling: off. the sober tip. on. the tipsy side. with. the greatness. let’s backwash snowball vodka and chewing gum. that would be so sick. we’d be a sloppy mess. with vodka running down our chins trying to figure out where the gum is. and chewing. and laughing. no one does these things.

Weather: it’s still wet out. YES JESUS! IT’S STILL WET! this rain has been the most necessary beautiful thing i’ve experienced in awhile. 

Wanting: i don’t wanna fall in love with you. i wanna rid myself of my crush for you by kissing you. long. passionately. hard. i probably won’t ever look or think of you the same ever again. give me this remedy please. because until then, i’ll always wonder about you. like you could ever possibly be a prince. or a friend….

Needing: to call zipcar since i turned that shit in 30 minutes late and virtually stole what was mine to return it back to it’s rightful home.

Thinking: about to beat it up. get a drink and beat it up. get a drink and fall asleep before i get the gloves on.
 
Enjoying: the traffic below, in the rain, sounds like ocean waves. you should hear how the crests tumble and undulate. tumble and undulate. tumble and undulate smoothly beneath the drizzlessss.

:qws: