Tag Archives: Giovanni Kavota

The Best Names for Children Conceived on Independence Day:

Fireworks weren’t the only thing banging last nigh, and statistically someone reading this has to be pregnant so consider this your one-stop-shop for baby names!

  • Gloria
  • Mustang
  • Texas
  • Patriot
  • Firework
  • Weiner
  • Sparkler
  • Freefire
  • Sandal
  • Cornhole
  • Kegstand
  • Rocket
  • Yard!!
  • Freedoom.
  • L’il Spark, or Sparky….Cuz everyone knows that if a spark from a firework lands on you, you get pregnant.
  • Baker, for the park in which they were conceived.
  • “America”…after the beer that inspired the conception
  • Pabst
  • Katy Perry, as inspired by firework
  • George Washington
  • Hotdog

Lisa Burl, Isabel DuarteGiovanni Kavota,
Lydia HadfieldEmily PerperT.M. Scholtes

Advertisements

New Friend – Heaven is a Party

“Life is just a party and parties weren’t meant to last.”
-Prince

Heaven is a party with all your favorite people.
Heaven is being so overwhelmed with greetings,
That you don’t know where to begin.
Heaven is engaging a familiar face in conversation,
And making plans to see them again.
Heaven is a party with phenomenal seating,
Because every seat is next to a friend,
And in heaven every moment is regal,
Because we all share the same vocation.

Heaven is a party where everyone laughs at your jokes.
Heaven is a game of fetch with the family dog;
A break from the people you love the most.
Heaven is a party with plenty of beer,
And every cup is filled to the brim.
Heaven is a party that leaves attendees agog,
And husbands untethered,
Because they got to stay until the end.


The party is over – Actually, it’s on hiatus. The Secret Diary of Your New Friend will return January.

Giovanni Kavota

New Friend – Black Superheroes

Dear My New Black Friend,

Growing up, my favorite superhero was Captain America. Who did you look up to while growing up? Other than Green Lantern—he was a cool dude, am I right?

Stay Black, Todd

Dear Todd,

You know who I had to look up when I was growing up? Misty Night. Who’s that? Exactly: No one knows who Misty Night is. Actually, I don’t know any mainstream black superheroes. I know what you’re thinking. “What about the Black Panther?” That’s not a superhero, that’s an animal! You can see a black panther at the zoo. Can you drive down to the National Zoo to see Superman? No. And they don’t have black panthers at the National Zoo, but that’s not the point. And don’t give me that Obama-Man crap! Obama is not a superhero; he’s the president! No one was putting Roosevelt in a cape and expecting him to walk.

Say what you want, but honestly white superheroes have it easy. You can dress like a bat and stand in people’s houses in the middle of the night, and everybody wants to be you for Halloween. Hell, we have a holiday where a fat man in red goes down people’s chimney leaving kids presents, and nobody inquires for a background check. But a black superhero? Shit, Shaft got ticketed for jaywalking during 9/11.

In short, I too liked Captain America.
Thank you for your question.

New Friend: Practicality Partners

“Failures, repeated failures, are finger post on the road to achievement.
One fails forward toward success.”

-C.S. Lewis

I recently worked with a director who took a college course about marketing himself as an actor. Now I wasn’t in the class, but it sounded like a course in teaching young artists about practicality. The professor asked the class to think about what roles they would honestly be cast for in an open audition. “Go ahead and typecast yourself, kids. I’m still dealing with several HR complaints from last semester.”  That’s not a direct quote, but the archetype of the professor in my head says this while wearing an “I’m here to fuck the freshman” t-shirt.

The instructor also required the class to keep a dream journal, which would be reviewed at the end of the semester.  It was a place where the students could write down all their creative dreams and ambitions. The professor having read the journals, entered on the last day of the semester and broke into tears. None of the students wrote about preforming on Broadway, or being cast as the lead in a blockbuster film. Their dreams were practical. The professor cried because these books were the one place they were supposed to abandon practicality and write about their wildest dreams. Instead they abandoned their dreams and settled for practicality.

This experience seems awful for everyone involved, but why then do people enroll themselves into similar relationships with significant others? A practicality partner is a person who feeds their partner the fear of failure more than they feed encouragement. A “wet blanket” a la Julia Cameron, author of “The Artist Way.” To give a R. Kelly definition: “You know when you’re trying to be a famous R&B musician, and your girl tells you to be practical and get a real job? She’s a practicality partner, or a PP – Wait, that’s something else.”

This practicality is meant as a way of being helpful, but as a person with a dream, any dream, there are enough voices in the world, nonetheless your own head, crashing that dream back to reality; you don’t also need it from someone you’re dating.  I get it, the people who care about you have a right to be worried, but it’s as frustrating as engaging a conversation with someone who just states the obvious.

“Babe, I want to fly like Superman”

“No-one has ever done that before.”

“No shit, Sherlock! Can I dream? People can levitate, why can’t I fly?”

I’m a dreamer. I remember sitting in the back of the class with my head in the clouds, and it still is. Except the classroom has been replaced with dinner reservations for two, and the professor replaced with the beautiful woman on the other side of the table. She still wears the “I’m here to fuck the freshman” t-shirt.  Today’s lecture is on Black Icarus, or how I’ll burn myself out before there’s any wind underneath my wings.

There is nothing practical about dreams, love, or life. Every 100 years a whole new set of people occupy the Earth. What’s practical about that? Seriously, less than two-percent of the American population lives past the age of 100, according to an American Community Survey. And I’m black – shit is looking real bleak over here! So no, I’m not going to be practical. Hell, I’m even going to use double negatives! I can’t spend 100 (64-79) years in practicality. I’m aware that I can’t stop the world from telling me to be practical, but I can ask this of the person across the table. 

There are enough voices telling me that, “No-one has done it before,” or, “This is a fine establishment,” “Be sensible and get off the table.” It’s harder to jump if she scares me away from the edge, but either way I have to jump. You can’t soar if you don’t jump (I warned you about the double negatives). People can call me crazy, but knowing that she wants me to fly makes me feel less insane about daring to jump day after day. Forget the fact that we’re banned from a number of establishments – I have a dream!

Dare me to exist outside of practicality, because a handful of people in the world will ever encourage someone to follow their dreams. The fear of falling doesn’t help anyone grow; we grow by failing. Dare your partner to dream and in return they’ll work to make your dreams come true. Dare me to dream.

Giovanni Kavota

New Friend: I’m Afraid to Stay Here

I’m afraid that if I stay here I’ll be forced to have the talk with my son. Not the sex talk, but the what to do if you’re stopped by the police talk. “Keep your hands on the steering wheel, and announce what you’re doing before you reach for your wallet – announce what you’re doing before you reach for anything. Never run.”

I’m afraid that the parents of his prom date won’t be comfortable with letting their daughter hold his hand. I’m afraid of telling him why she’s dating him. I’m afraid to tell him that he can’t afford to go through a rebellious phase like his white friends. I’m afraid that we won’t survive in America.

A black man is killed by the police every twenty-eight hours; I’m afraid that he’ll grow up without a father, like his father. I’m afraid people won’t take this seriously because I’m not black enough. I’m afraid that I’m not white enough.

I’m afraid that writing this will make him see me as a stereotype. I’m afraid his mother will never understand me. I’m afraid that the world is privileged enough not to care. Little black boys don’t need a gun when your perceptions are loaded with fear. I’m afraid to stay here.

Giovanni Kavota

Welcome to The Secret Diary of Your New Friend

“Be the change you want to see in the world.”

-Some Dead Indian Dude

Welcome to The Secret Diary of Your New Friend!

In these pages you’ll find what keeps me up at night (FYI, I sleep shirtless. I know that’s an important detail everyone wants to know – the fact that I sleep without a shirt. And no, this detail was definitely not added to give this piece sexual appeal requested by my editor), you’ll also find what hits home in my anterior supplemental motor area, ventromedial frontal lobe, and nucleus accumbens. In other words, what makes me laugh (the editor also wants me to come off as intelligent).

For those who actually Google searched the parts of the brain above, I’d like to take the time to note that I don’t have a drug problem. You’d know if I did, this is my diary, but I bet now you’re more inclined to look them up. Seriously, check it out. Don’t worry, I’ll wait so that you don’t miss anything.

The essays, poems, and jokes in The Secret Diary of Your New Friend are to put my voice into the world. I don’t know if writing this will actually make the world a better place, but what I do know is in these digital pages. And as a friend, I welcome you to share what you know with me @GiovanniKavota on Twitter.

This is my diary, and I am your new friend. 

Welcome!

EDITOR’S NOTE: Very sexy, very intelligent.
Look for future installments every Thursday.

Preggos & Pool Decks

I can’t imagine the difficulty of pregnancy: sleepiness, odd food cravings and the constant worry of “will this harm my baby?” My older sister’s pregnant, and she’s always surfing the web, searching for what she can and can’t eat or do. When in doubt she doesn’t hasten to contact a doctor—apparently there’s conflicting information out there concerning salmon consumption. Anywho, this is not about my sister. It’s about the poor soul who decided my opinion was better than a doctor’s.

COLORFlip Turn

The YMCA is one of the greatest places to work as a lifeguard. (Yes, I know how to swim. Yes, in water. No, being halfrican doesn’t mean I only know every other stroke. Enough!) When you’re a lifeguard, most swimmers wave and smile. Contrary to the brochures, young women almost never go swimming at the Y, especially in a two-piece. It’s mostly just old men and older men. So when this young, pregnant woman walks out on the pool deck in a two-piece in the middle of winter…well,  let’s just say I wasn’t the only one thinking “Are you sure you came to the right place?”

She and I strike up conversation. After a while I mention that my sister’s pregnant. Except my vengeful southern Virginia accent came out and I said “sista.”

“When you say, ‘sista’ do you mean like your sister, or your sista?”

Clearly she felt comfortable using me as her Negropedia, so I didn’t mind saying the following:

“Chea, like my sista, my dog, we grew up in the same crib and all dat, but I don’t know if wez related because our pops always be on Maury. She cool tho.”

In my head this would end the conversation, but, of course, I was wrong.

Okay. Well, I just came over here to ask if it’s okay for the baby if I did a flip turn.”

Why would I know the answer to that question? Life lesson: If you’re going to a stranger for advice, expect strange answers.

“No it’ll be fine, because the…velocity will keep the baby steady due to all the…momentum and stuff.”

Have you ever seen a pregnant woman attempt a flip turn? It’s like someone fell off a yoga ball. The worst part was that the bottom of her two-piece came off in the midst of the struggle, and she started flailing her arms to balance herself and reclaim her dignity.

“Why were you looking, man?! That preggo is going to be somebodies mother!”

COLORFlip Turn

Lifeguards are never supposed to take their eyes off the pool. No matter what happens! It was heroic, actually.

As she reached the shallow end I contemplated asking her if she was okay, but it would have been too cruel. Not being able to see below her stomach she put her bottoms on backwards. Without looking at anyone, she got out of the pool gracefully, grabbed a towel and left. She might not have learned the difference between sister and sista, but she got first-hand experience on velocity, and momentum…and stuff.

Giovanni Kavota