His voice was electric. It seemed to sing sweetly in her ear, swinging and swaying like a jazz trumpet solo that would never end. It made her feel drunk and lightheaded and dizzy with the thought of what they could do between sheets made of silk or satin.

He had to stop doing this to her. Stop making her feel so hot and free-flowing. He had to stop doing this.

“Could you pass the peas?” he asked

His hand grazed hers just so when the bowl was passed. That touch was enough. Enough to send shivers, enough to plant thoughts. She released a tiny whimper and her top lip quivered.

He gave her a worried look. “You okay?”

“Oh, I…I’m just-just fine.” Her voice was a breathy, husky southern drawl. She imagined the music their voices would make together: the soft prelude, lush and light, and then the crescendo into the middle phrase, full and swelling, and then the climax, frantic and feverish. She sipped her glass of iced tea, savoring the coolness on her hot tongue. If only it could cool the rest of me, she thought.

Everyone else at the table seemed to be in their own world. No one noticed how flustered she looked or the lust that filled her eyes. She looked at the thin band of gold on his finger and then stared at her own wedding ring. They didn’t match, but they should. It wasn’t her husband’s face that she longed for when she touched herself in that special way and she just knew that her sister couldn’t satisfy him, couldn’t make his voice sing for her like she could.

He had to stop doing this to her. Stop making her think these indecent thoughts. He had to stop doing this.

“Mmmm, this food is so good.” He looked right into her eyes. “Did you make the greens, Sheila?” He licked his lips.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “Lionel, um, could you help me g-get the pies out of the kitchen.”

“Sure,” he said, licking his fingers as he rose from his chair.

Her knees went wobbly. She composed herself, trying to calm the beat-beat-beat of heart as she pushed the door of the kitchen open and he walked in behind her. She had intended on seducing him then, but couldn’t. She grabbed one of the chess pies, but then felt his presence close to her, his warm breath on her neck, his hand on her thigh, his electric voice singing softly in her ear.

“I want you, too.”

He had to stop doing this.

My time over at SB has been exhilarating to say the least. Not only do I get to listen to new and interesting music on a daily basis, but I also get to attend show after show and even talk to some of my favorite artists. It’s a dream come true for me and I’m thankful to the folks over at SoulBounce for the opportunity. If you want to see exactly what I’ve been writing for them, check out the site (and be sure to leave a comment, as you know us writers love the feedback).

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In other news, I recently celebrated my 29th birthday (yay!) and moved closer to the big 3-0 (not so yay). While fretting about the end of my 20s, I came up with the 30×30 project–where me and a few friends will set 30 individual goals that we’d like to accomplish by the time were 30 and document them on a (forthcoming) blog. I’m still in the gestating phases (i.e.: recruiting friends, defining the 30 goals, etc.), but I’ll be sure to keep you all posted as it comes to fruition. I’m excited! Anywho, I’ll be checking in more frequently as things come along, so stay tuned!

D

Since news of Gil Scott-Heron‘s passing made the rounds this past Friday, I’ve tried to kick around a few ideas, but couldn’t really find a way to talk about what exactly he and his work mean to me. In spite of that, here’s something anyway.

Because of my age, I obviously was exposed to him well past his ’70s and early ’80s heyday. This exposure came mostly through the samples of his work that ran like a thread through hip hop, affixing those songs with an instant urgency. And, of course, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” had more than left its mark on the American consciousness. The title of the poem/song had lost some of its significance by the time I was coming of age, becoming somewhat of a catchphrase bandied about with no real significance. Still, I felt like there was something there calling to me.

However, it wasn’t until the late nineties and early aughts, when I was first delving into spoken word, that I really became aware of him. This was around the time that I was obsessed with knowing any- and everything about the music to which I listened. As soon as I bought a CD, I would listen to it while reading its accompanying liner notes, paying special attention when a song mentioned a particular sample. Mos Def‘s Black on Both Sides  had a song called “Mr. Nigga” which had one of the funkiest, jazziest samples I’d ever heard. Imagine my surprise when I learned that the sample was a GSH song called “Legend in His Own Mind.” My mind was blown. I’d only associated him with poetry at this point, not knowing that he had done straight ahead music. From there, the digging began.  I found 1980 and Real Eyes and Pieces of a Man and Winter In America and songs like “We Almost Lost Detroit,” “Billy Green Is Dead,” and “Home Is Where the Hatred Is.” In fact, I’m still in the process of procuring his back catalog.

Now that he’s gone, hopefully a new generation will discover his work and it’s meaning. Though he suffered from his own personal demons, he was far too great a man and artist to simply be known as a sample. Last year he released I’m New Here and it seemed, at the age of 61, he was on the verge of a great career resurgence with a new yet still uncompromising sound. It’s too bad that now we don’t get to see exactly where that new sound could’ve went.

Like Langston, GSH was one of my writing heroes. His honesty, not only in his songs and poetry (he’d also published two novels), is what I strive for when I put words on a page. He was unafraid to expose his soul through his words so that the world could not only see him but also see his life and the lives of his people and the circumstances surrounding them all. Through all his faults, I can only hope to have the courage and conviction in my work that he had in his.

Thanks for your life and your inspiration Brother Gil.

D

Well, Quadron spun from a larger group known as Boom Clap Bachelors. Recently BCB released a new EP stateside via Plug Research called Mellem Dine Læber and the lead single ”Løb Stop Stå.” Ever since I’ve heard ”Løb Stop Stå” I haven’t been able to stop listening to it. Something about Coco’s voice along with the mellow groove and hand claps just send me into a place. I only wish I knew what the hell they were saying! Anywho, check out the song and video below and see what I mean:

I’ve decided that this year I would focus more on my fiction endeavors than the past few years and actually work on getting some of my work out there. There’s no point in knowing you’re a good writer if no one else ever gets to read anything you’ve written, right?

Only problem is, I haven’t written much. I have a few story ideas and and a couple of pages scattered throughout composition notebooks from here to Dallas, but aside from a few short (read: very short) stories, I’ve not written anything very substantial. At least, I haven’t written anything substantial that I would actually show anyone except maybe my mother.

You see, anyone who tells you that writing is the fun part is a liar and the truth ain’t in ‘em. The writing section of the journey is exhilarating, harrowing, exciting, challenging and a host of other adjectives, but it is not fun. It’s perhaps one of the most tantrum-inducing things I’ve ever done. The picking of the perfect word or phrase, the creating of a scene or character are all great but involve second-guessing down to the most minute detail. A painful back and forth inside one’s head that is then played once again on computer screen or yellow, college-ruled legal paper for eons before it is done.

Downright repulsive is what it is. Sometimes I just want to trash it all and start a new life where I do something mundane (but a million times more lucrative). Writing doesn’t like me, it seems, and I don’t really like it–yet somehow I’m compelled to do it. It will start with the random tidbit of conversation I hear while riding the train or a thought while doing something tedious like the day job. That idea flourishes and I’m back in front of my computer trying to coax it into sentences, running back to  this love/hate relationship praying that maybe this time will be the one. And maybe this time will be different and you’ll soon be reading my story and I can add the the distinguishing title of “PUBLISHED” to my list. Maybe.

A boy can dream, right? *sigh*

D

Being that I write, I like to take stock in what work of mine is seen on the net and how easily it can be found. Unfortunately for me, my name is also a favorite among the jock and inmate crowd, so often times anything that’s actually me gets pushed back (except for my MySpace profile–why that thing stays front and center, I’ll never know).

Imagine my shock and surprise the other day when, after Googling myself for the umpteenth time, I discovered that my alma matter–The University of North Texas–had digitized its annual publication (to call it a yearbook would cheapen what it actually was, thank you very much).

Not only is it awesome to be able to take that trip down memory lane, but it also means that I don’t have to scan all those pages to add to my portfolio! So, you see, it satisfies both parts of me: the nostalgic sentimentalist and the lazy writer. It’s a win-win folks!

Anywho, if you want to relive some of my glory days and check out my feeble first attempts, you can do so here. Tell ‘em Donte sent you.

D

So, after much ado about absolutely nothing, I’m finally posting something on this site other than my bio. I’m still in the process of tweaking this to get it exactly what I want it to be, but I decided that it would  be best to continue making posts here.

As a few of you know, I used to have a blog that I posted to (semi-) regularly entitled Human: Being. While writing that blog was fun, I decided that I need a space that’s more professional on the web. Let’s face it, H: B got a little too personal at times (not to say that my random rantings won’t end up on other web outlets that I may or may not have).

So here you will find links to my work, old and new, as well as excerpts of stories and information about my fledgling writing career. I’ll also try to update with random offerings as I feel necessary.

Hope you enjoy what’s soon to come. Until then, au revoir!

D