Brooklyn Girl Publishing

Christopher Wallace

May 21, 1972 - March 9, 1997

Despite the fact that his life was cut short thirteen years ago, the lyrical tide of Biggie Smalls continues to flow through our earbuds and docking stations.

How he rowed his lyrical boat over the beat with precision, and pooled the grittiest words into dirty puddles that splashed on us remains a gift that doesn't stop giving.

Whether we find a line we've never heard before, recite our favorite verses as though we've written them ourselves, or just lounge in the JUICYness of it all, it's a pleasure to bask in his passion. 

Was it that we could relate to snatching baby rings and #1 mom pendants? Maybe not. The reality of seeing a dream come true? Maybe. Wanting one more chance? Sure. But most of the time, it was his ease of purging the contents of his heart despite what other people would think. His mindset seemed to be 'You may not like it or understand it. But this is what I know and it is what it is.' Period.

Tonight a Notorious wave will wash over BedStuy Brooklyn as Di.ddy celebrates the life of the great one with BIG names and his NOTORIOUSlee BIG style.

BIG is no longer with us, but clearlee his memory is. His artistry is. His killer probablee is, too. 

Each year as we meet the anniversary of his death head on with mentions, articles and parties, the fact of the matter is the physical presence of Christopher Wallace, Ms. Voletta's son, is no longer with us. And each year, the likeleehood of finding his killer lessens.

It is highly doubtful that a ColdCase box filled with BIG's belongings are going to be rifled through and old clues will be revisited. It is even more doubtful because in the eyes of the law, he was black and his death was by violence, and thus par for the course. But the other side of that is, no one will stir the waters to say what they know because that's not what Black folks do. Mistrust of the police and fear of repercussions rule. They are real.

So as we celebrate the anniversary of life lost, and the killer swims freelee, BIG's murder will likelee go down as one of those things that float out to sea, fading into the horizon until it we can no longer see it.

Do I like or understand it? No.

But just like the content of his verses, it is, I guess, what it is. 

Rest in Peace BIG

Pearson Lee, Brooklyn Girl

Pardon the cloudy blackberry picture, but Rabbit's Lucky Number and I are the proud recipients of the 2010 S'Indie Award for BEST FICTION! Whoo hoo!

A special thank you to Aspicomm Media/Renee Daniel Flagler and RAWSISTAZ for the honor.

And then to make the night even more special, Mo'Nique snagged the Oscar for her scary, beautifully ugly, electric, convincing performance in Precious.

A great night it was!

Oh. For the record, I thanked my momma and God. I'm saving my words for that Best Screenplay Oscar... (Quite frankly, I was surprised that I won, and that was the impromptu thank you speech!)

is taking place

@ The Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture

Sunday March 7, 2010

Registration starts @ 9am

For more information go to

www.selfpublishingsymposium.com

I've been wrapped up! As in sw.eat, swe.at, sw.eat blo.od, swe.at blo.od, until you sw.eat blo.od...and tears. Gam.ma!

If ever there were a time in my life where I busted my ass it is in this year of the Tiger. How funny is that? LOL. Okay, maybe not to you, but I crack myself up. I, too, have many at my disposal. A variety to choose from. Except my jumpoffs are books, books, and more &^#$ books. The good news is they don't threaten to run to the media if I pick up the other. The bad news...they don't tell me how hot I am!

Midterms are done and because of my juggling skill, so far, the grades posted for 2 out 4 classes are... I don't want to brag, so I'll just say if you want me you can find me in the Ayyyyy!!! Whooo! I have NEVER been an A student!

*singing* You da, you da best. You da, you da best.*

Five more seconds of self congratulation allowed... 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Back to programming.

So I realize being caught up in this school vortex that I don't have a social life! Yes, I squeezed in a  drink with a writer's group about two weeks ago, and on the weekend I stopped in at a 2nd birthday party for my friends' son. But I mean a social life! A date. A cutie to link arms with and talk to. A hug. A smile when he calls.

This came to light because, last week this cutie in a car pulled up next to me. He said he wanted to take me out to dinner, and blah blah. My thoughts? I don't know this fool. He's in the car with his boy in the passenger seat talking over him. And no. As he drove off, I thought, He was cute! Had he gotten out, I may have considered it, but I take giving my number out very seriously. Besides he was talking to me across his boy and his boy looked shady as shit and...uh no.  Then this guy at work that I don't find attractive started to look cute kinda aight to me yesterday and I couldn't understand why. I think it was the random compliments. Yeah. I'm easy! And he smelled nice. And this particular question was innocuous, though he was an inch too close and talking in a tone that is reserved for intimate moments.

I had to have a stern talk with myself. "No. No! You will not react to this fool after his previous offer to make pretty babies." She calmed. Kinda.

You're in my way, was what I said, as I moved past without touching him.

The music on the radio invites lascivious thought (I just wanted to say lascivious); TV? Thank God HGTV don't do romance! But thoughts of buying a home with my sweetie prevail. Food Network? I think about what looks good, what looks like a quick fix and what looks like dinner for two or family food.

I'm focused on school, I'm easy breezy. I believe in timing and God's will and waiting for the right someone. But the reminders of being touched and hugged and kissed and wanted and engaged in debate or deep conversation come from many directions, landing like darts in my psyche. 

I tell you, boy. I am pockmarked!

I'm not depressed about being single. Not sad or any of the other things that could be said about SBW's. I'm not even in a rush.

I just know as I clear the blur of considerable text from my eyes I realize I'm looking forward to just meeting him.  

Mayor Bloomberg is soft.

Back in the day, the snow could be coming down all morning, the streets and cars could be blanketed, and barely any cars would roll down the block; all the public school kids would be watching the TV to see if by some miracle the schools were closed.

"St. So and So is closed," the reporter would say.

"Le Blanc Prep School is closed." 

Eyes wide and tentative, we would wait.

Then the reporter would say, "Public Schools...in New Jersey are closed."

*collective groans heard all around the city*

Extra hours under the comforter were on pause; snowball fights and snow angels were put on hold; thoughts of hot chocolate cooled with every minute that passed.

New York has been cited as a city of toughness; the city that never sleeps. If one thing were to stay open in a snowstorm besides the bodega and the subway, it would be the New York City Public Schools.

So imagine my surprise when I found out around noon that the New York City Public Schools are closed tomorrow...PRIOR to a single snowflake hitting the sidewalk!

Now, I will say that it's pretty warm, (a clear indication we're going to get smacked) and the sky is a funny shade of grey, that will undoubtedly turn pinkish by nightfall.

Here's the catch...

Public Schools in NYC are closed.

BUT...

Guess who still hasn't gotten word that St. So and So College will be?

Boots, jeans and bubble goose will be poised and ready to roll out in the morning. But they (and I) wouldn't mind staying home for an old fashioned (indoor) snow day complete with comforter and hot chocolate.

Update on Tuesday, February 9, 2010 at 07:02PM by pearsonlee

I love technology - the TEXT came in! Woo hoo! No school tomorrow! And thus...no work!