بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Dearly Beloved Asiatic Black People!

I’m not married to زوجي yet. But I’m getting closer everyday. Even though I just got out of jail where I learned three lessons.

1. Fall back when it comes to زوجي and LET NATURE TAKE ITS COURSE.
2. Never stop writing.
3. I can’t tell you. Sorry.

I started writing this long “book” (blog) while I was in jail about everything that has happened to me since I stopped writing so since I have a lot of time to write, I’m going to go ahead and enter it. Here goes…

الحمد لله

I pray you all are enjoying peace and prosperity and abundant blessings from Our Saviour, Master Fard Muhammad, To Whom Praises are Due Forever! I, myself am locked up in jail but I hope to get out within the next few days. إن شاء الله

As you know, I had planned to complete the blog a few months ago, never to write again but as it is written in The Holy Qur’an, “We plan and Allah Plans. Surely Allah is the Best of Planners.” So Here I Am.

I humbly return to you seeking your forgiveness for having left you without something to exhort you to truth, righteousness and patience. That is the reason I’m in jail. الله Told me to start writing again over a month ago, but I was unwilling due to foolish pride. But as it is written, الله Has the Power to Force us to submit to His Will – willingly or unwillingly.

Never stop writing is one of three Lessons I have learned thus far during my incarceration. The first Lesson was Let Nature Take Its Course when it comes to زوجي. I have spent the last three years and six months trying to force myself on him and it has gotten me nowhere. I knew for the last three years and two months that الله Willed that I fall back. But I also learned in jail that I’m stubborn! That’s what the deputies said about me. الله Said I’m stubborn “as a mule!” That really hurt my feelings because a mule is grafted and Our Beloved Messenger (May the Peace and the Blessings of الله Forever Be Upon Him) taught us that anything grafted is a devil.

So now that I know, I’m really trying not to be stubborn. It hurts my pride though. But as it is written in the Psalms of King David, “Pride goeth before a fall” and I fell right into the hands of the Sheriff. SMH

So, since you’re probably wondering why I’m in jail. I’m going to pick up where I left off in New Orleans, March Two Thousand and Seventeen.

I “finished” the blog near the end of the month and I had decided to return to L.A. on my pick-up day (the 3rd). The third arrived and I bid farewell first, to my landlord (Thank you, D, for your kindness and generosity. You and Kim are up there when I think of all the sweet people I met in New Orleans. May Allah Bless You Both With Peace and Contentment, Money, a Good Home and Friendships in All Walks of Life! Muah! 🙂 )

Then I had to say goodbye to Miss Mary, my roommate who taught me how to close a door peaceably when I leave a room. I miss our afternoon walks in the embracing New Orleans humidity. I forget how old she is (seventyish, I think) but I wanted to take her out for walks because she spent all her time in the house and I remembered my Grandmother taking my Great-Grandmother (her mother) out for afternoon walks.

Miss Mary had fibroids when she was younger leaving her womb barren. So I took it upon myself to be her adopted daughter and just loved her.

She was so supportive when I told her about زوجي and he was my main reason for leaving so she understood.

I pray Allah you get to take walks sometimes, Miss Mary, and if I decide to not be homeless next time I’m in New Orleans, I’m coming to see you so you can give me Derrick’s number.

One day after I returned to L.A., I was on the Expo Line and this young Brother was on the train with two Sisters. Then this gay Puerto Rican (I think) gets up and switches over to the Brother and sits down. So, I could not restrain myself and I told the Brother he was wrong for being gay when he was with two Beautiful Black Sisters and he was the reason there aren’t more Beautiful Black Babies, and I just really let him have it. So, instead of the Black girls and other Black people on the train agreeing with me, they told me I was wrong! And pretty soon everybody on the train wanted to kill me.

I was completely shocked. But I have done like الله commanded us in The Revelation and “Come out of her” so I was caught completely off guard; unaware of the extent that the abomination of homosexuality has corrupted people.

So we get to the end of the line and I’m still running my mouth and then we all get on the escalator and the Brother reaches over (he’s about 6’3″ with long limbs), snatches my phone out of my hand and breaks!!!

I should have chased him but I just saw those long legs stretch across the train station and felt like I would never be able to overtake him.

So, that’s how I lost Derrick’s number.

But I made a video as soon as I left the house. I went Live on Facebook. Let me see if I can post it. BRB

It won’t play from here but if you click “Watch on Facebook” you can view it.

I can’t post it for some reason. FB has changed their settings again but I might be able to figure it out later. إن شاء الله

So, I made it back to Los Skanless and went straight to the shelter. I couldn’t get a bed but I ran into my musician friend, Wans from Belgium. Yes, he’s Black. You may have heard about King Leopold of Belgium and all the atrocities he committed against the people of the Congo when he colonized their land. Well apparently, they imported some of the African people to Belgium because there I was talking to Wans.

He has Stockholm Syndrome though insisting that there’s no prejudice there and everyone lives in peace and harmony. The white man is the devil regardless of time or place.

We met one day when I heard some live music coming from the cafeteria and there he was playing his alto. I love live music so I sat down next to him and listened. We struck up a conversation and Voila!

So, one of the first things I noticed about Skid Row is that there’s always good music playing. When you’re homeless, music really helps, so a lot of people have speakers and they are generous enough to share their music. Not like in New Orleans, where everybody (well, not everybody but this one lady, who has this souped up bike) wants a tip. 

In the eighteen years since I’ve been going to Skid Row, I’ve only met one person who was playing music I didn’t want to listen to and I have extremely high standards when it comes to music.

So, another thing I learned is that there’s a community of artists within the Skid Row community and whenever there is an event down there, they pull from this pool of artists for entertainment. But I could not find it to get in it!

But one day, after I had been on Skid Row for awhile, Wans told me that there was going to be a jam session the next day across the street and I could be his guest. I’ve learned that musicians don’t like people just coming out of nowhere into their circle. They prefer if someone brings you in and introduces you.

So, I went to the jam session and had I known they were going to be that good I would have recorded it. But the group was interracial and I’m with that separation, so I couldn’t get with them.

But! I met the man who is over the artists’ space and he told me there was going to be a new artists’ orientation the next day!

So, I went and signed up and reserved the music room so I could practice the piano. But I had been playing this janky baby grand in the chapel at the shelter (they used to have an upright in the women’s day room but it’s gone now) and there would always be people there who would applaud whenever I finished a number so playing all by myself was boring and I left early.

I also found out about this singing group and it sounded interesting so I decided to check it out. One day I would like to have a choir and call it L.O.V.E. (Lifting Our Voices Everywhere). But in the meantime, I thought I might join their group. So I went and the director was this Jewish man who told me his girlfriend was Muslim and after visiting the group, I realized he practices Buddhism.

He assured me the group was non-denominational and the songs were all non-denominational too. But later he’s telling us that they just performed Handel’s Messiah.

And they were about to perform “Noah’s Ark” both of which are Christian. They also have to wear certain clothes when they perform and I’m not coming out of my garment for NOObody!!!

But it was an opportunity to sing in front of a willing audience (the group) and he said I didn’t have to perform if I didn’t want to. He made it seem real laid back and tried to make me feel comfortable. But I had seen almost everybody from the group around Skid Row and two of them I openly disliked and the others were people I would NEVER associate with. They were a group of misfits. But I wanted to sing so I made allowances for their many shortcomings.

That first day was “Songshare” where you could perform a song of your choice or he would play it from the Internet. So, I sang “Misty”

I was really pleased with how I sounded and they liked it too. I also wanted to be a part of the group to get the constructive criticism from the director who was a professional voice instructor but I learned that I’m a soloist and I need ALL the attention. But I wanted to sing so I tolerated the other people.

The sessions were on Mondays and Wednesdays but I could never make it on Mondays because I was always taking care of homelessness business. But the director assured me that it was okay; no worries. He wanted to put me on the text list though and I would get all the texts that the group got. I didn’t want it but I let him talk me into it.

Now the first week, he had us do some “breathing exercises” which were really meditation but I didn’t mind because I used to do Muslim meditation so I wasn’t trippin’. One time I did feel a little uncomfortable but I just brushed it off.

So, the next week he knew I’m into jazz and some of the other members were too so he decided to do a jazz history Lesson but he wanted to start from the beginning of “recorded music” and I said “white music history” and he agreed. So, he goes on to say that music started with Buddhist monks and their one note chant. But I interjected because ninety-nine per cent of the class was Black. So I said, “In Africa we had been singing in harmony and using drums and other instruments for thousands of years before their one note chant!”

So then he starts getting defensive saying that scholars argue over that fact. I said, “It’s true they just don’t want to admit that Black people did it first!” So he said they debate and blahzay blah blah then he went back to the Lesson and I knew more than he did.

We were talking about the birth of jazz and New Orleans is my second home and he had never been there. So, I’m telling them how Pops has this huge park with this huge statue of him and the airport is named “The Louis Armstrong International Airport” and I could not believe none of them had ever heard of a Second Line! I told them Pops wrote the first autobiography by a jazz musician.

Then we talked about Ellington, be-bop with Bird and Diz and he tried to say Monk wasn’t be-bop! I told him Monk was the piano player at Minton’s where be-bop was born! Then he tried to say Miles was be-bop. I said “True, Miles did play as a sideman for Bird but he is known for ‘The Birth of the Cool’.” So he ended up saying I could have taught the class.

So, the next week was Songshare again and I sang “Summertime” But I sang it kinda jazzy/R&B/gospel. This one Sister said I have good voice control which really pleased me because I pride myself on my ability to hold my breath for a long time; holding long notes and whatnot.

So, every week at the start of the session, we would do the meditation and after each singer we would take a deep breath so I’m not realizing it but he’s using Buddhism to hold sway over the group and also to knit us together. But I didn’t want to be knit together with them. I just wanted to be applauded for my singing. So, I asked to be removed from the text blasts and the next session I deliberately arrived ten minutes late.

When I walked in they were deep into the meditation and no one looked to see who had walked in. He continued giving instructions but nodded at me. So, I’m taking this all in and in Islam, we meditate but its’ more like a prayer between us and الله. There is no middle man.

So, I really did not like how much control he had. Everybody was in a trance. And he was using Buddhism to do it. One time when he ended the meditation, he had everybody sing just one note and it sounded just like the Buddhist chant “Om.” I should have known then.

Buddhism has been around for thirty-five thousand years. They have been an enemy to الله and the righteous much longer than Christianity, which is only about six hundred years old. So Our Beloved Messenger (صلى الله عليه وسلم) taught us that Our Saviour taught him “If you meet a Buddhist and a Christian walking together, kill the Buddhist first.” 

So, I left the session and never returned.

There are a lot of “starving artists” on Skid Row; musicians, visual artists, thespians, dancers and many are really talented but they’re all Christians or on this “I love everybody” kick and trying to “coexist” but I know that path leads straight to Hell.

Wans is in it too. I always tried to ignore that cross hanging conspicuously from his neck. But churches use music to ensnare the people. There are many musicians working in churches just for the paycheck. Wans even told me he knew of a church that was looking for a singer. What I look like singing to a dead Jesus just because the song is pretty and I sound beautiful?

* * * * * * * *

These girls in jail are so cute. I used to didn’t like nineties babies because they call me “old” and they are some of the most arrogant people you ever met.

I had a bunkie who was 26 and Oh My God! You would think she created the universe or something. She was so full of herself and her generation! I couldn’t believe how conceited she is. She wants to be a motivational speaker but she curses. LOL You should’ve heard her speeches. It was so funny. She was dead serious though. It’s just that these girls curse like nothing. Every other word is a female dog and every noun is preceded by effin. It’s even worse than that though. They don’t say they’re their man’s “Lady” or “Girl.” They call themselves his female dog. I only heard one girl do that so it may not be that many but I’m sure the Brothers call their girl their female dog because I heard this lesbian refer to her girlfriend as that. But I loved hearing them talk to each other. Girls that go to jail are so COOL! LOL They talk differently to each other though -than when they talk to me or any other elder.

I love how they say “You feel me?” Because I know they got it from Pac. Knawmean? and “You know whut I’m sayin’?” sound like relics from the past. It could be an L.A. thing because I didn’t hear it anywhere else. But these kids want to be felt!

The Sister might make it as a motivational speaker with the cursing because her generation seems to know no other way to communicate.

When I went to court the other day, they had everybody in tanks that were going to the same court and there were bound to be some familiar faces. This happened TWICE! Once on the way TO court and again on the way back.

Girl 1: Ay, don’t I know you?
Girl 2: You do look kinda familiar.
Girl 1: You know so and so from          (gang name)         ?
Girl 2: YEAH! You’re so and so from          (gang name or street name)          !!!!

Then they may hug or bump fists but after that the conversation gets really juicy.

Girl 2: You know Weezo told me he would pay me to beat you up.
Girl 1: What? I hate that nigga.

*Note – Mexicans and white people call each other “nigga” like it’s the same as “dude” or “fool.” I know. I had heard that too but it’s a whole ‘nother thing to actually hear it.

Girl 2: Yeah, but I told him No. That nigga was supposed to bail me out and I don’t do that s!#t no more. I’m trying to be cute and ladylike.
Girl 1: What you in here for?
Girl 2: I got pulled over in the G-ride on my way to make a pick-up.

*Note – There are so many girls in jail for GTA. I know it’s because of that video game.

Girl 2: What about you?
Girl 1: Possession.

*Note – Everybody smokes meth (“Pookie”)

Girl 1: You know Lil Bit is in here for spousal abuse…

*Note – Three of my six bunkies were in jail for spousal abuse/domestic violence. I heard domestic violence is a felony.

Girl 1: …And they picked up her kids this morning.

*Note – Everybody’s kids are in the system.

You know, this is not so cute anymore. It’s making me want to cry. They’re cute, but their lives are HELL. All they know is CRIME and JAIL. The men they deal with are womanizers.  So a lot of them are lesbians.

I guess that’s why I’m here. Whenever someone says (and someone always says) “Everybody smokes meth.” I raise my hand and say loud and clear “I don’t!” And their jaws drop and eyes widen then I go on to say, “I don’t smoke, drink, do drugs and I don’t have sex. And then I start advising them on how to quit because they all want to quit.

Mostly I tell them to pray and ask Allah for help. I tell them that’s how I stopped smoking cigarettes. By then I have everybody’s full attention and I’m like the Queen Mother.

I met one Sister who, other than “Read Message To The Blackman, I didn’t know what to tell her. I thought she was a boy but I learned she has a hormonal imbalance so although she has the reproductive system of a female, she looks and sounds like a male.

I’ve had a little time to think about it and hers is the only instance when hormone pills should be used. NOT for men who just want to be female but for females who, for whatever reason, their bodies are not producing them!

They should have given them to her when she was a little girl so she could have had a normal childhood and wouldn’t have had to suffer the taunts of her peers. Because now she’s embraced the masculine traits and is living, unbeknownst to the casual observer, as a lesbian.

So, if you’re reading this, my Dear Little Sister, pray and ask Allah to help you make your body produce the chemicals to produce estrogen to override the testosterone and get some hormone pills so you can stop living the abomination of homosexuality. You are causing your girlfriends to sin.

So, after I saw Wans and couldn’t get a bed, I went to a hotel and stayed there until my money ran out. I like this particular hotel because it’s very clean and I had tried to get in some more popular motels in the area but they wouldn’t let me stay longer than three hours! They are just dens of iniquity catering to whores and whoremongers.

So when my money ran out, I went back to “The Row” and they still didn’t have any beds, so I had to be “overflow.” That means you have to wait outside on the street until all the people with bed and cot tickets get their beds then they let us in and we have to find a spot on the floor between the people who are already on the floor and it’s just bad.

They say they let us in at seven but, in a month, I only got in at seven once or twice. Every other night they leave you standing out on the street in the cold susceptible to the lascivious fantasies of all the men on Skid Row (and there are a lot of them), only finally letting us in between nine and ten.

The ones in the front got the best spots. If you were at the end of the line, you could be walking around for twenty minutes trying to squeeze in somewhere where nobody wants you.

So one night I was waiting outside, at the front of the line with this Sister (we both used to cut in the front of the line, so we got along good and she used to talk alot so it made the time go by faster. I feel a little guilty about cutting now because some of those women used to get there at three (when the Women’s Center closed; there’s nothing to do and nowhere to go when you’re broke and homeless) to be first in line and they wanted to kill us. Nobody ever said anything to staff but I heard them talking amongst each other. But hell, in that type of situation it’s go for self).

And so, we’re at the front of the line, right outside the front door, and I hear “As-Salaam-Alaikum!” So I turn around and there’s this Brother. He has his phone in front of him and I think he’s recording but I’m like “Nah, why would he be recording this?” So, I ignore the camera and we start talking. He tells me he has an SRO (Single Room Occupancy. It’s just a room in a hotel where you share the kitchen and bathrooms and it’s only about one per cent better than the shelter) but it was better so I made him feel okay about his little SRO and I joined him on his walk back home from the store.

During the walk, I learned his name and that he grew up in the Nation but he smokes weed and curses like a devil. But he said I could have the bed and he would sleep on the floor.

Turns out he was Live on Facebook when he picked me up and I added him, so I saw the video. Man. I am so embarrassed I wouldn’t post the video if I could.

I knew I was aggressive but I’d never seen how I look in action. It did not look good. The only thing I can attribute it to is the fact that my father molested me but it was so unbecoming. I don’t even care that I got what I wanted. My body language was so suggestive. On the up side, at least, now I’m aware of it, so I can consciously pump my brakes.

So, we got into a little argument about the proper foods to eat but when I left the next day, I thought everything was cool. I think he wanted me to stay, but I didn’t want him to start catching feelings or nothing. I’m still زوجي’s. Nothing can change that fact. So we made arrangements for him to come pick me up from the shelter again that night but he never showed up. We talked on FB and I chalked it up to miscommunication but other than commenting on each other’s posts we never hooked back up. 

I saw him three times in one day, one day and every time he acted like he didn’t see me. I mean, he went out of his way to avoid me. IDKY.

So, I’m going to the shelter every night. Eventually, I did get a bed ticket (a “cot ticket” to be specific). The homeless situation is so bad in L.A. that the Women’s Dorm is completely filled. The Women’s Day Room is completely filled. And the Chapel is completely filled with women sleeping on the floor packed like a slave ship almost.

So, I didn’t have to wait outside anymore, which for an M.G.T. like me, was the worst part. I felt like a whore standing out there on the street at night. You see how easy it was for me to get picked up. And I wasn’t on the floor anymore but it was still cramped.

During the day, I would go to the “Women’s” Center. I put Women’s in quotation marks because it seems like there are more men in there than women! All of the volunteers in positions of authority are men. And I just couldn’t stomach these MEN trying to be women bossing the REAL WOMEN around! It was NAUSEATING!!!

I stopped going after one of them came in the bathroom right after I got out of the shower. I was dressed but what if I wasn’t? It’s disgraceful the depths of evil and filth to which this world has sunk.

I was in Santa Monica at the pier one night and there were men in the Women’s restroom! And they weren’t even trannys. Where was I supposed to use the bathroom?!!!!!!!

I would also go to the Library. At one point, I had a little show where I would go Live from the Library on FB. I couldn’t talk because it’s supposed to be quiet, so I used sign language and written signs.

That was a lot of fun until I reached into my bag and my purse was gone. But I knew nobody stole it. It was just in The Twilight Zone. Sometimes my stuff just disappears. Sometimes I can conjure it up again but if I can’t, it’s gone for good.

So, I was getting burnt out on the shelter and it was Easter. I had a couple of hours before I had to be at the shelter so I decided to take the Expo Line to the beach. I got there and I could not believe how packed it was but the ocean looked beautiful. I only had about five minutes to look at it but I was hooked. I started going every day.

I found out this Homeless Resource Center (HRC) I used to go to back in 1999 had moved, so I went to the new address but it’s co-ed now. I don’t like that but there’s one side where the men don’t usually go so I just hang out there.

In any case, I can shower, do my laundry, take a nap, charge my electronic devices and get a hot plate. So, I started spending my days there and just went to DTLA to sleep.

For March A.J. Day, I went to Tiffany’s. I like to go there and see if they have my wedding set. So the saleslady LOVED me for some reason. I was homeless, broke and couldn’t afford anything in the store but she treated me like I was married to a BILLIONAIRE!

I went around the store and she went with me showing me all the different pieces of jewelry and the pieces that were exclusive to Tiffany’s. I decided which ones I would buy if I really was married to a Billionaire and satisfied my thirst for looking at pretty things but she did not want me to leave!

She offered me some water, Perrier or Evian, but I already told you I had satisfied my thirst but she kept insisting, so I told her Evian. I don’t like Perrier having tried it when I worked at Sbarro’s in The Beverly Center back in the eighties. But everybody thinks Perrier is high class.

So she comes back and says they don’t have any cold Evian and I let her talk me into the Perrier. She brings out a silver tray with the bottle of Perrier and a little blue Tiffany’s cup. There’s also a piece of chocolate on the tray. She said that was to apologize for not having the Evian.

So she pours the Perrier into the cup for me. I take the cup and the chocolate and leave.

I wished I had taken the room temperature Evian. Carbonated drinks are not good for you anyway. So, I just ended up tossing it.

But OH MY GOD, when I tasted that piece of chocolate, I was transported to HEAVEN!!!

That was the BEST CHOCOLATE I HAD EVER HAD IN MY LIFE. AND I’M A CHOCOHOLIC!!! I eat chocolate EVERY DAY!!! Candy, cookies, muffins, chocolate milk…. SOMETHING CHOCOLATE EVERY DAY!!! And I had never felt this way about chocolate before. It was beyond words.

I had seen the brand in the store many times before but I never bought it because it’s kind of expensive and I didn’t know how good it is.

It was Lindt Lindor.

It looks so delicious. It has this creamy, milky inside that is just indescribable.

There’s a Lindt store in the Riverwalk Mall in New Orleans but when I was there it was almost Easter and they had all this Easter stuff and I hate Easter. So, I didn’t go in but I watched a video they were playing showing where they get the chocolate. Africa. I was kind of offended because all of the workers were Black and I feel like they’re being exploited for their resources but not offended enough to not buy it. They have the BEST chocolate in the world. إن شاء الله one day they’ll nationalize all of those privately owned corporations that are stealing the resources and I won’t have to feel guilty anymore.

So, I got back to the shelter and I’m talking to this Sister who is Oprah’s doppelgänger. I see Oprah’s doppels all the time. I think because I wanted to be the next Oprah when I was growing up. I wanted my own talk show and I went to college to be a news reporter like Oprah when she started out. But this sister said everybody tells her she looks and talks like Oprah.

So we’re outside waiting in line (I hadn’t cut to the front of the line yet) and this Brother comes up selling candy. Why was he selling Lindt? Not the balls. This kind.

I knew that was my A.J. Day present, so I bought two. Chocolate is always better when you share, so I gave some to Oprah and OMG! It was even better than before!!! Happy A.J. Day to me!

So May comes in and I get my crazy check and I wanted to take a break from the shelter and spend a night or two at the motel. But when you have a bed ticket you have to get an overnight pass if you’re going to miss a night or else you lose your bed.

So I went and asked for an overnight pass. And she made me feel worthless. “For a COT TICKET? Hell No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not!!!“

So I spent the nights at the motel anyway but I kept the ticket. I knew it was no good but the guard at the back door didn’t so at least I got in and didn’t have to wait on the sidewalk all night. I also got a better selection of spots on the floor.

A few more nights of that and I was fed up. One morning I kept the blanket, left and never returned.

I started sleeping on the beach. I know this place that’s open 24/7 and it’s public. I had seen people sleeping there before and it’s right next to a guard tower so it’s safe.

A couple of weeks or one week and a few days before Mother’s Day, I rode the bus up the coast to Malibu like I used to do the first time I became homeless.

The bus used to go from DTLA to Downtown Malibu but now there’s the train that goes from DTLA to Downtown Santa Monica. So the bus starts from Downtown Santa Monica and goes even farther up the coast!

So, I always like ابننا to see how rich Billionaire’s live so the week before Mother’s Day, I took him up there. We had lunch and took some pictures.

The next week was Mother’s Day and I felt like الله, زوجي وابننا had given me The Pacific Ocean for Mother’s Day. What could be better or bigger than sixty-eight million, six hundred thirty-four thousand square miles of water? It’s the biggest thing on our planet!

Last year زوجي gave me a song that’s still in heavy rotation

But he topped it this year. I made a video live on FB. Let me see if I can post it.

Same as the other one.

May A.J. Day I was having an episode and didn’t even realize it had come in. It was on a Monday. However, on Tuesday I decided to catch the bus up the coast just to chill out and one of زوجي’s doppels got on the bus. I made up my mind right then and there to get off the bus wherever he got off. So he got off in DTM, but the guy he was talking to on the bus got off with him. I got off anyway.

So they go in this convenience store and start buying all kinds of stuff. I’m broke as usual and can’t make up my mind whether or not I should stay or go. So, I keep going in and out the store.

Eventually, they come out and I fall in step behind them. He turns around and says, “You coming with us?” And I’m like “Yeah.” Then he says something about his wife and I’m like “Whatever.” They always have a wife. Which is the reason I’m in jail. Lesson #1 – Fall Back and Let Nature Take Its Course.

But I hadn’t learned that Lesson yet, so I went with them anyway.

We got back on the bus and got off at the beach. So I’m like, “Cool, now I can go off on my own” like Al B. Sure said to do. I’m not gonna post the video because I never liked the way he sang. I just watched some of the video and he was doing way too much.

So I let them get ahead of me and I went down to the shore. I kept walking and I see them coming in my direction. He had said something about a campsite and then I see a place in the sand where there had clearly been a campfire. So they laid their sleeping bags next to the spot and I had acquired a sleeping bag at the HRC so I laid it on the opposite side in an attempt to establish a boys’ side and a girls’ side thus keeping the sexes separate.

So I felt like the friend was using magic trying to steal my laptop and the doppel was trying to get my gloves. Someone is always trying to steal my gloves. I know why but you won’t believe me.

So after awhile, the doppel told me he lives in Santa Monica but he works as a chef in Hollywood. So he says he’s about to go to the store. Naturally, I wanted to go with him but he starts talking about he has to do things by himself. So it’s dark… Oh! Wait a minute.

When we first got to the campsite, one of the surfers (there was a gang of them in the water) comes over talking about he left his keys over by where we were and they start talking but I know the game. They were selling drugs to those white boys.

I’m not saying all Black guys sell drugs but that would make the fourth time I’ve hung out with drug dealers.

Okay, so it’s dark now and I walk with him as far as I could go. (I couldn’t keep up) then he goes off a little ways and stops. It’s dark and he looks like a shadow. So then he starts shape-shifting into something that looks like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and then he takes off like lightning out of sight.

I’m like “Okay…” That’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever seen so I’m not tripping. I go back to the campsite and the friend is in his sleeping bag. We start talking and he’s 50’s doppelganger. He sounded EXACTLY like him and he was from NYC. I tested him. ابننا always told me that 50’s mom was gay and he didn’t like her. So I asked him “Do you like your mom?” He sounded like a little boy, “NO!” We talked about Islam. He sang “Al Fatiha” and I was impressed. I don’t even sing it. But he was 50’s doppel so he’s got to be into music.

The doppel had gone to get him some cigs so we talked about how smoking and drinking are bad for your health. He said he knew that but he likes to do it anyway.

So LL came back and he was ready to start the campfire. He wanted to wait until it was late, so as not to attract unwanted attention. He had to go up the beach to get some wood. I went as far as I could. I was scared الله Was going to change the matrix and I wouldn’t be able to get back to the campsite. I didn’t trust the doppel.

So I learned how to start a campfire that night which is good to know since I’m homeless.

He put his hand over the fire and told me to take his picture. I was so taken aback by how much he looked like ابننا that I didn’t fully comprehend that he had his hand right over the fire!

So he took my picture by the fire too and I grabbed one of the flaming pieces of wood and held it up like a torch but he wouldn’t take my picture like that. I told him to add me on FB so he went to my profile and I have the picture of me and ابننا I posted above as my profile picture and he asked me “Who is dude in the picture?” LOL I said, “That’s my son.” Then he mumbled something about me having a 25-year-old son LOL ابننا is fifteen. He was fourteen when that picture was taken. I’m not tripping though because ابنتنا is 26, so I’m definitely old enough to have a 25-year-old son. He just didn’t know it!

So I laid down by the fire and almost suffocated from invisible smoke. Then I got up and moved to the other side. The doppel objected for some reason but he was already in his sleeping bag and wasn’t much of a threat. He talked until he fell asleep. 50 fell asleep shortly thereafter but I didn’t trust either of them so I stayed up and waited for the sun to rise.

Sometimes I’m scared it’s not gonna come up and it’s gonna be ten a.m. and still dark. It’s like that in Norway. I think that’s why they have a city named “Hell.”

My uncle lives there and they have a period of about two weeks when the sun doesn’t rise at all. It stays dark. They always come to the states during that time of year. They say a lot of people commit suicide.

There is an equal amount of time when the sun never sets though. Let me G it to see exactly how long it lasts. From April to August!!!

But this is L.A. and, of course she came up. I thought they might get up early like those two “Muslim” Brothers I hung out with in New Orleans. But they didn’t so I packed up my stuff and got on the bus going farther up the coast.

Why was Prince’s doppelganger on the bus? And tell me why was he reading “Fall of America!?” ROFL I couldn’t.

So he told me he was on his way to work. But when he got off the bus he sort of stood there and looked at me like “You coming?” But Prince is what I call a sextrovert. He’s really out there with his sexuality. I love his music (most of it) but sometimes he makes me feel really uncomfortable and embarrassed.

He has this one song about sex with his sister and how much he enjoyed it. That’s incest. So I was cool. I had just gotten out of a situation and it was a little too soon for another adventure.

So I stayed on the bus and got off at my spot. But I didn’t feel like I usually felt. Like breathtaken at it’s beauty. You know? I walked on the beach but it seemed dirty and nasty. There was a lot of seaweed and beach flies and it just wasn’t as beautiful and serene as it usually was to me. Plus, I felt bored. But I didn’t have anything else to do so I continued my walk down to this place where I can pick up the bus again.

The bus to my spot only goes there six times a day; three in the morning and three in the afternoon. Just to drop off the maids for the rich devils that live up there.

So, you can see in the video, there’s a precipice next to the water but the last time I walked the shore (past the corner on the left where you can’t see around in the video) the tide was out and when I went around the corner where the water comes up to the shore, I just waited for the waves to subside and then I went around the corner not even getting my feet wet.

But this time it must’ve been High Tide because the next thing  I know my feet were underwater. I still had my shoes on but I wasn’t tripping because that wasn’t the first time I had gotten my feet wet with my shoes on and probably won’t be the last. It’s only water.

So, I keep walking and before I know it my ankles are under water but I’m like as soon as I get around this next corner there’s going to be beach and sand. But every time I hit the corner there were more rocks!

So now, I’m up walking on the rocks right next to the precipice and the water just keeps getting higher and higher. But trip this! Every time I think I’ve gotten to the end of the rocks, I look up and there’s more rocks! الله was allowing the devil to change the matrix testing my faith because I know it didn’t take that long to get to the sand last time. Plus the water is getting higher and higher and then it’s up to my thighs and I’m starting to panic.

I didn’t think I was going to make it to the sand before the water was up to my neck or higher.

So just when I think all hope is lost, I look up and there is a pathway in between the precipice leading away from the water! الله أكبر!!!

I was still scared because I didn’t know where the path led but I took it because I knew I couldn’t win a fight against 68,634,000 square miles of water (The Pacific Ocean).

Under normal circumstances I would have really enjoyed the walk up this path. It was beautiful. There were tropical plants everywhere and probably birds as well. But I was recovering from a near-death experience and was probably in shock.

So the pathway ends at this residential street but there’s a locked gate at the entrance. But الله أكبر! as soon as I get there there’s this devil with a surfboard going down to the beach. Now, I hadn’t seen a soul on the beach all morning but just when I needed somebody, there she was. الله أكبر!

So, at first I think I know where I am but الله let the devil change the matrix and I was lost again. So, I just start walking not knowing where I’m going and everytime I think I recognize the location – matrix switch.

So, I’m soaking wet. I’m dying of thirst (usually I have a water bottle, but I had just gone grocery shopping so my bag was stuffed and my water bottle, which I always keep on top had fallen out somewhere and I had never replaced it) but worst of all I’M LOST!!!!!!

So الله Says Stop. Rest.

And for some reason, I got the feeling that زوجي lived in the house to my right. If I had been a little more confident, I would have gone to that house. But I wasn’t and I felt like the house across the street was my house. So الله Told me to go over to it.

There was a white pick-up truck in the driveway parked in front of a two-car garage. So I sat on the back of the truck. But I felt like I wasn’t supposed to sit there. So I sat on the motor for the gate but that didn’t feel right either. So I decided to just ring the doorbell and ask for a glass of water.

So I go up to the front door and it’s open a little. And I’m like Okay…. So I push it all the way open and I see the house is furnished but I could tell nobody was living in it.

So I go in and the entire back of the house was glass or glass doors. So I see this devil in the backyard throwing a ball with a little dog. I knew immediately, that she was living in the pool house housesitting. So she looks up at me, smiles and goes back to playing with her dog.

So I take that as my cue that I was free to explore. It was a nice one-story, three bedroom, three bathroom house. I always wanted a one story house so that when I get old I won’t have to climb stairs. But the best part about the house was the backyard. I took a picture. Let me post it. إن شاء الله

I go in one of the bedrooms feeling just like Goldilocks and took a nap on Mama Bear’s bed.

If you haven’t already guessed from all the unusual things happening (the doppel shape shifting and taking off at lightning speed, and the beach and the street matrix switching) I’m having an episode. I never realize it until after the fact though.

So when I wake up from my nap, I got the horrible feeling that the bedroom door was gone and I was in a room with four walls. So I immediately contemplate the window. But I remembered that window I broke in New Orleans and it had plexiglass behind it so I’m starting to panic but I slowly look over my shoulder and the door is there, of course. الله Wouldn’t do that to me. But I took that to mean I was in the wrong room so I moved into the Master bedroom.

It was nice but I didn’t like the bed. When I finally settle into my own house, it has to have a waterbed. I thought being one-story was good enough too but it can’t be too big either because there were times in this house that I didn’t feel like walking to the bedroom from the window seat because it was so far. You feel me? 😉

There was also no carpet in the entire house. I didn’t like that either. I like furry stuff like stuffed animals and furry blankets, so you know I need to walk on luxurious carpeting and there was not even a rug in the whole house! Not even in the bathrooms. Speaking of bathrooms, I couldn’t figure out how to work the jets in the tub for nothing. That was so frustrating. I didn’t take a bath the whole time I was in the house. Even though there were candles. So that means the house wasn’t meant for me.

There was a saddle holder though with a saddle and cowboy hat on it. You know how much I love horses. All that stuff was on the side of the house that reminded me of my mother’s house.

The other side with the office, kitchen, garage and service porch reminded me of my father’s house.

The part of the house that reminded me of me was this section of the office that had little girl stuff in it. There was an easel with all kinds of art supplies and a gang of stuffed animals. I have always slept with a big teddy bear, even as an adult. I only stopped because I didn’t want زوجي to feel neglected. It was hard for me to fall asleep for a while though.

So, I settled in, washed all my clothes, my shoes and my sleeping bag which were all drenched and covered in sand from my ordeal at the beach. It had been some years since I had used a home washer/dryer so I was a little annoyed at the hour and forty-five minutes it took to wash but my clothes came out so clean they were illuminating! Then I got angry at the laundrymats where the washers only run thirty minutes and your clothes don’t get that clean.

The owners only care about money. If it costs $2.00 to wash, they can make $6.00 in the time it takes a home washer to make $2.00. If they have a hundred machines they can make $600.00 as opposed to $200.00. They don’t care about quality of washing just about the Benjamins.

The bathrooms all had glass doors instead of shower curtains. And for me that is the test of whether or not the house is high class. Regular houses have shower curtains. Nice houses have glass doors.

There was a dusty Range Rover in the garage and a motorcycle. There was a pool, a Jacuzzi, a bench swing hanging from the trees and a hammock. But I spent all my time in the window seat overlooking the backyard. That’s where I took the picture. I saw a rabbit out there one day. They’re all over the neighborhood.

You see that point sticking out into the water where it says “Malibu?” That is where I was. It’s called Point Dume. And it is arguably the most beautiful place in the world.

So الله had been told me to restart the blog but I hadn’t married زوجي yet and I was embarrassed. So even though the conditions were perfect for writing all I did for three days was look out the window and listen to music.

I had a bag of cherries, a mango and an apple but I knew I needed to go to the store and get some food. I think ابننا wanted to bring me some food. But I wanted to have food for him when he got there so I went to the store. I found out where I was when I got a chance to use Google maps so I wasn’t lost anymore. My phone had been dead before.

So, I think going outside changed something in me.

I hadn’t really been outside the whole time. I was scared to go out into the backyard because of the devil but going to the store made me feel like I should be able to go in the backyard too.

So when the devil had company over and they were having a picnic in “my” backyard, I started feeling possessive. Then one of them started doing laps in the pool and I wanted ابننا to be able to go swimming when he came over, so I walked out into the backyard while he was out there. 

I know, stupid. But I had been thinking about leaving anyway. I didn’t like the bed and although I wasn’t homeless, it wasn’t the home that I wanted. I mean, I liked it but it wasn’t perfect.

You know what? I’ve always felt like Brandy is my Doppelganger. When she first came out with “I Wanna Be Down”

And she was on the phone on the floor, I was like that is so me. I used to talk to زوجي like that when we were in High School. Then Moesha comes out and it’s set in Leimert. I always wanted to live in Leimert. 

I remember being in High School and we would drive by The Good Life and I could never go because we were on our way to church. SMH I couldn’t go to nothing no way.

So anyway, remember on Moesha and her father wanted to buy her a car but she was like “No thank-you. I want to by a car myself!” ???

That’s how I was with this house. It sounds so stupid but it’s that “I’ve got to be independent” attitude that many women have picked up. It could be a tad ungratefulness too. Because after awhile she did change her mind and I think I might have been better off if I still was in that house but because of the conditions that led me there, I’m not sure.

It could have been a trick of the devil because I don’t regret it. I just hate that I went to jail but I appreciate the time I spent there.

Anyway, I went out in the backyard and I wasn’t doing nothing but set tripping and eventually I felt like “Okay, I’m out here. Now what?” So I saw the bench swing and I love bench swings so I went and sat on it and when I tell you I was at peace, believe me. It was the most peaceful three seconds I have ever spent in my life. There was a cool breeze blowing through the grass and it felt amazing.

So the man had waved. I waved back. But when I sat on the swing, he went back into the house and I knew he was going to get the devil. And this was the second time that I felt fear of something more than I feared الله. The first time was the water. Maybe that is a lesson too. Because I’ve never feared anything other than الله my entire life.

So, I got scared and tried to hurry back into the house before she came out. But that backyard was big and I was right across from her – halfway to the house when she came out and waved. Then she said, “Are you looking for someone?” I said, “No.” I mean, what else was I supposed to say? She’s acting like she didn’t know I had been there for three days all of a sudden. I guess because I had done like Israel and tried to take over her land.

So, I go in the house and I’m thinking everything is cool. Then I hear her “Hello? Are you there?” And I didn’t know what to do. So I just didn’t say anything. Then I hear her and I knew she was on the phone telling somebody she didn’t know who I was and what I was doing in the house. She said to me (I was in the bedroom and she was talking to me from the door leading from the backyard into the house, so we can’t see each other) she was talking to the property manager and she was just doing her “role” and that the property manager was on her way and she was going to call the police.

So now I’m trying to find someplace to hide in the house. (I guess deep down I did want the house.)

Then I hear a man’s voice. I’m thinking it’s the po-pos so I come out of the closet and he says something like, “This is not going to end well for you” So I had all my stuff together in the event that something like this was going to happen. I grabbed my bag but my phone and laptop were charging in the living room.

So the devil man tells the devil woman to go around to the other side of the house so they could surround me. I grab my phone and charger out the wall outlet leaving the laptop. The five seconds it would have taken to grab the laptop would have been all the time they needed to trap me.

So, I just leave the house and start walking, plotting my next move. I decided to just catch the bus to the beach and go on like I had never been in the house. But when I turned around to catch one final glimpse of the ocean, I see the man is following me in a Porsche SUV and behind him is the neighborhood security.

But worse, he’s on the phone and I knew he could not be talking to anybody but the police.

Sure enough, I turn back around after taunting him for a few seconds walking backwards, and the pigs pull up right in front of me.

“Put your hands behind your back!”

Next thing I know I’m sitting in the back of a patrol car and everybody in the neighborhood is driving by. I even saw زوجي ride by in one of the golf carts everybody has up there. They use them to get to the beach. They don’t drive their regular cars. Everybody uses golf carts.

*Note – I finished the part that I wrote in jail. 

So, I’m thinking they’re going to take me to Santa Monica jail and I’m like cool. I get to see the coast on the way down and this is not going to be bad at all. But instead they took me to some jail I had never heard of called “Lost Hills” and we turned down this street I never liked the name “Kanan Dume.” It reminds me of Conan the Barbarian and I’ve never liked him. Berbers are North Africans for one, so they are BLACK and two the only reason the word Berber/Barbarian is associated with something savage is because they were trying to defend their land from white domination.

But anyway, we turn on this street and go up into the Santa Monica mountains. There is nothing but a two-way street going up and up and between all these “hills.” Before we got too deep into them, I turned around and saw The Pacific Ocean and it was so huge it looked “dreadful.” That is the word Our Beloved Messenger (May the peace and the blessings of Allah forever be upon him) used to describe The MotherPlane and that is the only word I can think of to describe how huge it looked.

So we get to the jail and it felt to me just like the first time I got arrested. I had the same uncooperative attitude I had when I first got arrested.

The first time I got arrested was for videotaping at the B-Boy Summit at UCLA. They said I had a warrant but police lie. They took me in anyway and I was spitting at the police and they put some type of mask over my mouth. But I’ve always been able to get out of restraints. But they took me to the station and back then they still used ink to fingerprint you and I had a little ink on my finger when I went back to my cell and I wrote “F&*% BABYLON” on my cell wall.

This time they don’t use ink but for some reason I did not want to be fingerprinted. I fought two female deputies when they tried to remove my jewelry. All of my jewelry is symbolic of something to me. So I was not giving it up without a fight.

They got my necklace and my bracelet but I kept the watch (the most important thing) and my ring (the second most important thing). It is hell being in jail and not knowing the time. There are no clocks and no windows so they only way you know the time of day is by the meal they give you. So I was very pleased I got to keep my watch.

Eventually they put me, handcuffed, back into a cell. That was very uncomfortable. I was handcuffed behind my back. In front is a lot better. So, I tried to lay down on the mat on the floor and get some rest. It was horrible so by morning I was ready to be fingerprinted.

They were courteous enough to call for a female deputy to do the work and then I was placed in another cell.

They arrested me on May 27th, so I spent Memorial Day weekend in jail.

On Tuesday, they took me to court to see the judge about violating my probation. The devils had not pressed charges! الله أكبر

But remember I got arrested when I went to Sony Pictures because I thought زوجي was there. Well I was supposed to go to court and never went. Then the time I first became homeless for trespassing at the house زوجي wanted for us. So I had two cases.

I went to see the judge but I was kind of having an episode, and because of my history of mental illness, I have to go to a special court to see if I’m competent enough to stand trial.

So, I went to the two courts but the court to see if I was competent wouldn’t be until the 20th! And it was like the third. I was deflated. My daughter’s birthday was the 31st. I had already missed hers. ابننا’s birthday was coming up on the sixth of June and mine is the nineteenth. So, I was going to spend all of our birthdays in jail!

That was a little disheartening even though I don’t celebrate birthdays.

Jail was cool. I had a little fun. The worst part was not being able to see the sun and birds and flowers.

I drew a big flag of Islam on my cell wall. If I had had any money on my books I would’ve bought some lipstick so I could have colored it in red.

My bunkies were cool. I got into a couple fights but it was a great experience because I’ve never been so embedded with nineties baby girls. They were so funny and cute.

Eventually, my court date came and I got “time served” for all charges and I was released the next day.

While I was in jail I had made plans for how I was going to spend my money when I got out. So, I got out, called ابننا and went to the ATM. To my surprise my bank account was empty.

I went to the Social Security office to see what was up. They had reevaluated my case and decided that I wasn’t disabled anymore so no more crazy check.

They told me I could appeal but I can’t take medication. The medication makes my symptoms worse.

So I was like cool. I’ll just have to live like I lived in New Orleans the first time I went there. Completely dependent on الله.

I found out later my food stamps had been cut off too.

Then I was SURE الله Willed that I live off the land.

But I went to the GR office and applied and attained relief and got my food stamps reinstated. So I have a little income. GR is $241 a month but it’s better than nothing. And my food stamps help. But I’m still homeless. It’s cool for now though. Allah is the Greatest. الله اكبر