Home again

People who know
Say you can't go
Home again
But if you ask me
I'm happy to be
Home again.
-- New Edition



TOLEDO!!

Held me down. My first trip home in a year and a half was just the break I needed. We wrapped our final edit/mix of the film the previous Tuesday and I took a copy home to show to family and friends. They loved it. And it seemed deeper than just, "We're gonna support this because our son/nephew/cousin/uncle/childhood friend made it." There were genuine critiques, laughter, appraisal, support. The kind you can only get in the only city that's been down since day one.

I was amazed at how the city never really seems to change. Niggas swore they'd stop by and holla at me and didn't. There still aren't a lot of quality jobs for people in their 20s and 30s.

Gino's Pizza still has the best pizza in the world. And that big old crack house at the main intersection of Detroit and Bancroft is still a big old crack house.

But perhaps I protest too much: Downtown seemed livelier than ever. Malls were being built or refurbished all over the place. The weather was humid but lovely, a welcome respite from the scorching oven that was California. Kids from my church that I once coached in our 9-12 year old basketball league are now elated college students or lanky high school seniors. The suburbs are flourishing ridiculously. It was the first time, probably ever, that I wasn't running back to the airport when it was time to leave.

We drove to Pittsburgh to visit my alma mater. It was my first time there since my graduation way back in '98. It looked the same, but different. There was so much construction! But I walked wifey, my mom, and my nephew Eddie through all the old haunts: the Cathedral of Learning, the Student Union, Stephen Foster Memorial Theater, Hillman Library, the Towers, up and down Fifth Ave. and Forbes and Lothrop Street.

It was the coolest trip down memory lane. It reminded me of a time when I had nothing but time, before day jobs, before L.A. hardened me in the way that it hardens all it's residents, before I was taught to doubt the relevance of my writing. We ate an expensive Italian restaurant downtown before stopping past PNC Park and Heinz Field (boo Steelers! yay Pitt football!), then we headed back home.

The rest of the time, we were just visiting relatives and resting. I ran into my boy Stormy Dai, who told me wild tales of his days touring with Cash Money Records, about his recent tracks on Juvenile's latest album, and his pending trip to Miami, which could be monumental for blowing up his career as a hip-hop producer. You stay with it, partner. We hung out at a studio near the old DeVilbiss High School, where I watched him record and mix a promo for a local radio station.

Next thing you know, my boy Reshard takes me to this cat Henry's basement studio over on the North side and we're recording a beat and rhyming over it. Some of my bars:

J Gil on the mike, the Midnight Marauder
Knocking niggas out like I was Sgt. Slaughter
Run up on me quick, I don't think you oughta
Pillage your whole village and escape with your daughter
She tried to bolt, I caught her, sold her, then I bought her
Reenacted next Thursday on Law and Order

Reshard remains the best friend I'll ever have and the coolest person I'll ever meet. Our friendship continues to amaze me. Everyone's doing good though, for the most part. My nieces and nephews are hanging in there, the ones i saw at least. Mom is doing fine.

I just can't express how therapeutic the trip was. It gave me and the wife the kick in the pants we needed to charge ahead with our plans.

As of yesterday, I sent off applications for Shawn Parker to five film festivals: Hollywood, Santa Barbara, Ann Arbor, Cleveland and San Francisco. Down the horizon -- Sundance, Slamdance & the Pan-African Film Festivals. Also, there's a short film competition sponsored by BETJ that I'm excited about.

What? Time Warner's taking over for Comcast? Better have my VH-1 Soul.