It would be ludicrous to omit the fact that I laughed at numerous jokes made at his dispense, and questioned his behavior during times when his personal life was under legal scrutiny, but that isn't to say that he wasn't a staple of my childhood. As a virgo, and as one belonging to a large family, I had a natural liking for this man, who seemed to be the only entertainer that could invoke that many people to tears, faints, and awe-struck disbelief with his performances. My relationship with Michael's music changed as I matured. When I was born, he'd already begun his transformation into an early stage of the man he would become. I didn't delve deeply into his past to enjoy the fruits of his stint in the Jackson 5 until my late teens. I was floored at his powerful, distinct voice, and couldn't fathom how he handled that much fame before puberty without going the cliché way of most child-stars. He didn't succumb to drugs; he survived the 'disco' era unscathed. He didn't slack in his consistency; rather, he kept a feverish pace of performing and keeping his hands in multiple ventures. He seemed very aware of the public opinion of him, and I often wondered if his face was God's metaphor for the chinks that we were slowly putting in the armor he'd built to endure the industry since childhood. It seemed we were literally watching him fall apart under a hail of ridicule and scrutiny that no one could endure alone. Yet, he did for so long. He built himself an eccentric castle and dubbed it 'Neverland Ranch', and that reflected, atleast to me, what he wanted most...childhood. So, yesterday I listened to the early reports of his cardiac arrest, but turned the radio off when I learned that he'd slipped into a coma. When I had almost arrived at my destination, I pulled up to an intersection and realized I heard that voice all around me. Everyone had their windows down--waiting. I started that day with the knowing that I had a session that 'had ' to be completed because it was 'written in stone' and there were 'deadlines' etc. When I head the sobering news on the radio, the notion of those previous words seemed silly. You don't own your days, I don't own mine, and Michael certainly didn't own his. I started out yesterday knowing that I was going to attend a session, and ended the day at a candlelight vigile for a true American icon. We gathered in the parking lot beside the big gold building and cried, danced, and celebrated the life and rest of a weary king.

I have quite possibly a MILLION things to do in a day. Some of the actions are perfunctory, and some are so routine that they're almost automatic. The last thing I expected to shatter my serene monotony was an aid at my son's day care telling me that he decided today was a great day to piss on the wall in the bathroom. 'Excuse me?' I said, staring blankly as my brain played catch-up. 'He did......I'm sorry, what?' She then proceeded to tell the story (with great relish and a slight enjoyment) of how she instructed Tahir to use one of the stalls where he would have to sit down on the toilet, instead of stand up like he's accustomed to, and how he then decided that the wall was as good a place as any. Now, had I not had such a tedious day, I would've have actually snickered. I'm glad I didn't though, because Lord FORBID I turn out to be THAT kind of mom. Mom. No. They would definatlely have said 'mother'. Sooooo, due to the fatigue, I was able to keep my concerned poker-face. In that moment, I was amused that I wasn't particularily upset with the act as I was upset that they had a little glimpse into the insane dynamic that is me and/or/vs Tahir. I felt backed into a corner by them expecting me to be more apalled than what I was. It's piss. He's three. This is the stuff Olive Garden nights with the girls are made of. Lil J wrote his name....lil Marcus tied his shoes....well, my son responded to be told he'd have to sit down to pee by PISSING on the fucking wall, so suck it! If he were eight, maybe it would be a dangerous precedent at future attempts to thumb his nose at authority, but he's three. A spanking and no Happy Meal will suffice. =) Mommy Madon will also survive.

I've been away for a while. I've been......building my castle so to speak. I'm finally comfortable in my surroundings, with keys to shit that I own. I mean that literally, and metaphorically. At the end of last year I prayed for patience. What I got was so much more. People that I least suspected to link up with threw up their support, and people that I though I'd be even tighter with by now are nowhere around. When things used to go completely different than I planned, I used to find it unnerving. Now, I find comfort in knowing that you don't have to run around like a chicken with its head cut off; you can, simply enough, allow situations to reveal themselves for what they are. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. This is good and bad....but it's me. As naiive as it sounds, I'm JUST now realizing that many people don't do this. There is no transparency in this business. Why? It's because people are LIARS. Not only do I not mind this, I find it amusing. I guess this is the era of the 'online life.' Here you can build a character and dress it up real nice. Smoke and mirrors baby. So again, I feel comfortable in knowing that everything I said I did, I did. Some of it (very little) is public record. Pfft. So who do you cling to when your 'friends' evaporate? Yourself, your family and God. With that said, in '09, I've outfitted myself with my gasoline and gloves. Everbody I want with me is with me, so I'm burning the bridge for any late-comers. Hahahhh! Should've joined me when you could.......'cause I'm obviously about to turn the heat up. Patience, everyone. Patience. Oh yeah, holla if you feel the same fucking way. 1

Its cold outside, so I'd prefer to take your mind to some place warm....and then right back into the friggin' cold again. When you touch your big toe into a shockingly cold pool of water on a sweltering day, you force yourself past the omg(!) wtf(!) until you're completely submerged. For the sake of this blog, let's just say that there are three types of people. They are (drumroll please).....a.)people who 'deal' with the cold water until they adjust, and then fear getting out when they've reached their full 'comfort' zone, b.) People who wait juuuuust long enough for it to be tolerable, and then exit and re-enter again and again to capture that first cold thrill, and, finally, c.) A-holes who'd rather shrivel on the sidelines before wrecking their hair and who ACTUALLY believe thaaat (queue dramatic music here) they'll be 'discovered' by love somewhere between the urine-ridden kiddie pool and the over-priced concession stand. Out of the many analogies my mind uses to interpret how people approach relationships, this one always makes me snicker because of the 'type c.)s'. I snicker because, well, I'm a little of both b.), and c.) (I promise....no more improper use of parenthesis......for now! Where the hell is the dramatic music I asked for?) I recently had the privelege of watching two people in love. I know what I witnessed was not two people being transparent for the sake of being transparent. It was as natural as air, and it was astonishing. It didn't look anything like I thought it would. If I could descibe it as a recipe, I'd say it was 1 part perserverance, 1 part subtle, enduring infatuation (which in itself is an oxy-moron), and 1 part tunnel-vision....for each other, of course. It wasn't as sexy as a novel or movie would have me believe. It was more like anything and everything you could describe as serene and surreal, like the eye of a storm. Fittingly so, I witnessed it in a hospital. The scene was sad for me, but not for reasons that could be written off as prime-time Lifetime network cliche crap. It was sad for me because I feel I've given up on anything that will ever even come close to that before I found it. The problem is that I'm mostly a 'type b.) , and 'type b.)s' are impulsive. I need cold water to shock my nerves. I need cold water to make it feel new again. I need that sensation to prove to myself there are signs of life. When the water is tepid, I sit on the side and wait until the heat is unbearable. Then I need cold water again, as if love is a battle, but the battle is being fought on desert sands that burn the calouses of your feet, and under a sun that makes you sheild your eyes. My sister once told me that I burn bridges. Well, there's another group of people that can't help but burn bridges either. They're called attics. They burn their bridge, for whatever their vices be, only to plunge into cold water. I guess I'm sorta like that--a typical 'type b.)/ c.)' love-junkie. Now, if you'll excuse me....dude over there is looking like a niiice talll glasss of coooold water. Happy. Holidays.

People have often said in the past that you need to step outside of a situation to truly evaluate it objectively. I haven't blogged in a while, because I usually reserve that for when something is bothering me, but today, its quite the contrary, as I feel that I've stumbled upon my own epiphany--you CAN outgrow people....and it's ok. I recently abandoned a lot of emotional baggage in my life, and I'm actually surprised at how much clearer my head has been. The relationship with this person was almost Shakespearean in that it had a bit of everything: opposition from family, betrayal, and tragedy. The tragedy, in a sense, was how much time I wasted with this person before I realized that they were draining on me emotionally. Have you ever looked at someone's life from afar and thought, 'Wow, they have it made', only to get closer to them and realize the effort they put into letting people THINK that about them. In general, I don't have a lot of friends, male or female. I can be difficult and tempermental, BUT, I am not a liar, egotistical, or conniving. If you have a 'friend' who has nothing positive to contribute to your existence, then you should drop them, and vice-versa! Relationships can die. It happens. You should put some roses on the proverbial 'grave' of your 'frenemy' and move on. I must say, it feels good. Now, for my ghetto translation......Hatin azz bitches need to get a fuckin job and get offa boss bitch's titty balls and step they game up before they're the most PATHETIC and oldest bitch in the club trying to start over yet again--AKA a FUCKING JOKE! That's why I love my older sister , she's what they mean by 30's the new twenty. I guess I should've listened to her from the jump and surrounded myself with women doing more for themselves....

For the fans who been waiting for more from Madam Madon. She about to deliver everything in one huge dose.

Here's some of the things she has on the horizon for '08:

1.   PBS vinyette called Legacy: Black in America airing in February 17th on WHUT channel 32 with Ice Cube, Chuck D, etc.

2.   Appearance on VH1's new reality show looking for the next hot female emcee in March.

3.   DVD interview and video on Hustle Respect Hustle DVD coming out in Mid February.

4.   Interview in Artist Magazine a new nat'l/int'l  magazine in FYE's everywhere Feb 18th.

5.   Mixtape: Benning Road Bomber coming in May.

Stay tuned for more details.