I feel the need to speak, to wax, to pontificate on the subject of Love. Love! Ah, yes... Love!
I mean, The Realness. The Real isht… The Authentic Stuff... not that weird, obsessive shit. And not that: please-baby-baby-please love-me-long-time, desperate variety. I mean that many splendored thing joint!
I‘m talkin' ‘bout Love as described in the classic jazz tune, “Moody’s Mood For Love”.
It goes a lil sump’m like dis::
“There I go, there I go, there I go, there I go
Pretty baby you are the soul that snaps my control
It's a funny thing but every time I'm near you
I never can behave
You give me a smile and I'm wrapped up in your magic
Music all around me, crazy music, music that keeps calling me so
Baby close to you, turns me into your slave
Come on
Come and do with me any little thing that you want to
Anything, baby just met me get next to you
Am I insane or do I really see heaven in your eyes
Bright as stars that shine up above you
In the clear blue sky
How I worry bout you
Just can't live my life without you
Baby come here, don't have no fear
Oh, is there wonder why
I'm really feeling in the mood for love…” (by~ James Moody and Eddie Jefferson)
Now ain’t THAT Love… or some a form of delusion?
It could be because this is the season of Spring, and maybe it’s contagious. Maybe, birds gotta fly, bees gotta buzz, fish gotta swim, yada yada boom-bang. All I know is, the subject of luv keeps whirling 'round my dome like some annoying housefly.
But I digress...
The subject is: Love, Luv, LOVE! Yes, the Big Amore. The Whooper. The Hoodoo. The Voodoo, some seem to do so well, and others, well... they just get done.
Lately, I've been surrounded by those who've claimed to be feelin’ duh luv. Please, note the spelling.
When it's Real and Present, when it’s Vibing and Verbin’, then out of all due respect, it gets the L.O.V.E spelling.
Here, the *luv* I’m addressing is suddenly the topic of much talk from friends of late who feel that they've either stepped, stumbled, tripped, slipped or landed in a big ole pile or at least the potential potent possibility of it.
Ah, Luv! Ain't it wonderful? Ain't it grand? Ain’t it what makes the world go 'round? Can ya even stand it?
One good friend tripped into a piece of it recently while on vacation. Let's call her, Anjette. Now Anjette is cool, cool, very cool people. Anjette is, and always has been a very independent Black woman (many light-years before Beyonce & DC told her to be one). Anjette is very, verrrr much a person in control her own dominion. Swears she doesn't need a man, doesn't crave sex, doesn’t worship at the Alter of Penis, doesn’t suffer from chronic lack-of-the-'zack attacks (or so she claims), and doesn't whine when it's on lay-away. Just so you understand, Anjette doesn't bitch when the boyfriend juice is not in stock, nor does she protest too much when it's not in (the) store.
To wax in the current venacular: Anjette don't roll like dat!
However, as recently as a week ago, she’s been speaking of having found this wondrous new LUV! Ah luv! It seems she has just suddenly stumbled into something or someone that has produced a feeling in her soul, so silly, so giddy, so wonderful and rare, so "Day-YUM!"
I mean, is it REALLY like dat!? It's making up poems, impromptu, it's opening doors, holding hands, it's making no demands, other than that mythic two-worded curse of: "Trust me."
Hmmmm…. But of course, since life never hands us a sweet, untarnished piece of gold… there are issues… like: Is this new Luv, being true, or only auditioning for the part of Love’s Leading Man To Get Into The Panties, as we all sometimes do?
The answers to those heady questions have yet to materialize… and so I must stay tuned.
Not trying to appear the pessimistic sort, because I KNOW Luv, Attraction, Lust, Lust-luv, and LOVE do indeed exist. And there is no time schedule, no appropriate waiting period for one to declare it as such. Love just happens, much like that old phrase, “shit happens.’
I wish you well, Anjette. Really, I do. Like all of us, you are more than deserving of the Real Deal. The Super-Sizer. The burger, fries, the extra-thick shake AND the damn apple pie! And somebody throw some extra cheese on that burger, please!
Hey, I'm not being cynical (well, not too much). I'm a big fan of Mickey Dee's.
Holla atcha boi, when this new Luv becomes LOVE-- & in the meantime, I'll be in that booth in the back, munching on fries and lighting a candle for your monkey.
Luv-potion # 2:
This one comes all the way from the "Sunshine State" of Florida, in the form of a friend (we'll call him Luis). Luis also claims he wasn't looking for the L-word. Yet, he too had this trick thing called luv, shock his monkey-azz-- just smack him in between the ojos, as if to say: "it's me, fool! ya better recognize!"
He's recognizing something all right. He's recognizing how the heart is singing new Salsa tunes, and how his corazón beats faster than Tito Puente’s timbales ever did. He’s noticing how his head and his dique are lost in deep thought of this particular heart-throb. Ah, yes! Those magic throbbers. They come in all shapes & sizes. They can sneak up on ya, and sometimes even surprise ya. I'm happy for his monkey, also.
Albeit Love or Luv, it's so wonderful when it's all brand-new, fresh, & dewy-soft. When it makes you wanna lose yourself in the moment, & and get lost in the ridic, and downright Simon and Garfunkel-like-silly wid it. Ya know:
"Just skipping down the cobblestones, looking for fun & feelin grrroovveeeeeeee!"
Hey Luis! Yo, papi! Please, slow ya roll! Shout me a holla when all that damn skipping's (&/or sexing) is through. I'll still be in your corner... even when gravity takes over; and even if you should find yourself, lying face-down and all broke-up along those damned cobblestones.
But maybe you’ll be a Lucky One… and LOVE will kiss you firmly in a cool place where the sensation lasts forever.
Here's to believing in those rare, if oh-so-coveted four-leaf clovers...
Meanwhile, I’ll still be in that booth at Mickey Dee’s, watching all those fast-food flings roll by.
Yo! Is my burger & shake ready?
One.
