Welcome to the underground and outrageous world of Bohemian Cafe`... Although much of the focus will be on the art and writings surrounding my graphic novella series( old and new comic strips and characters, blogs about my drawing and writing process,comments, sketches, etc..) It's ALSO meant to be a showcase for poetry ( mine as well as work from other guest poets) and topics related to and about the 'artsy-fartsy set'...you know, bohemians. I basically wanna' bring the world of spoken word and neo-soul culture here, a TRUE cyber cafe'...minus the incense burning, green tea and mocha lattes, but feel free to sip your own as you browse....So enjoy yourself, I hope you find it roomy and pleasing to the eye...AND DON'T FORGET TO DROP ME A COMMENT, so I'll know you were here! Come again and tell a friend, won't you? Sincerely Yours,
Poor, little 'no-man-keeping' Rhea! *tsk-*tsk", Like the old folks used to say: All that 'pretty' on the outside wasted with all that inside ugly. I do love writing for her character though because Rhea is so narcissistic that she can't help it, and people who are extremely self-aware are interesting in the way a dog licking his own balls are.....ya-just-gotta'-watch!. Even "Sixties", who's far from being an altruistic & empathetic type himself can't stomach someone being that stuck on themselves!
*As for dating a married man, that's pretty low by itself and I won't even start on breaking up a marriage for your own selfish needs BUT I will say this : you gotta' marry someone you're hot for, and I mean they have to entice your lower region as well as the upper hemisphere or you may be doomed to .............wander.
...a lil' somethin'-somethin' I wrote for a skit I did with the 'Soul-Of-Cinema-Players" in tribute to Ntozake Shange's "For Colored Girls Who Considered Suicide When The Rainbow Was Enuf".......
They say, that all the true bruthas…all the true Mistahz/
Say "Give me a sistah...a sistah/
raised on yams with big
gams/ ya’ can’t miss her!"
Yep...many,many a lady/ are sweet
like daisies/ some are even CRAZY/ while some are working on a master plan (...plan...plan...)
But when it’s all said and done/ there is absolutely NO one/ who can do it like a sistah can….. LIKE ONLY A SISTAH' CAN: Work a job where the pay is low, but the demands are high.
Where for White boys the sky’s the limit
and for her the limit’s the sky.
Can train a younger, "lighter" worker
and then watch THEM promoted ahead.
But at the end of the day….still hold up her head
I said ….
at the end of the day......her wiiiiiings are
I say at the end of those days/
she’s prays…….. and is grateful instead.
So that when opportunity does come-a-knockin’….she’s
LIKE ONLY A SISTAH CAN:
Love a grown-@ss boy
masquerading as a man.
Bear him three-big-headed
boys, without even a ring on her hand.
Give them ALL his last name……even when he denied they
Look the other way…..when HE
looks at every other
....But come Graduation Day,when ALL three sons hold degrees with honor.
She smiles humbly as they all
say: “Thank-you, for being our
mother AND our father”
LIKE ONLY A SISTAH CAN:
See another sistah’, who
looks not much different than she
And yet watch her roll her eyes,
grit her teeth at her as though SHE
wuz’ the enemy??!!
Be judged by her clothes, her
car, the length and authen-tis-it-eee of her hair.
The way her lips and hips
protrude…..whether her skin is dark or fair.
LIKE ONLY A SISTAH CAN:
Choose/ to throw attitude/ back---->( *what-evah' bitch'! *)---OR
See that other sistah for
what she iz TRULY….
Bearing the weight of
plantation baggage abusing/ confusing
what should be obvious:--->MUTUAL BEAUTY!
And what it iz---it iz, so to
speak....we shine...we glow as unique as stars/
Okay, if you're on Facebook you already know what inspired this strip; National "United-Bras-Of-Facebook" day as I like to refer to it was a pretty good idea, fun and although not as effective as one would wish..it did get NATIONAL attention!
As I recall a day in advance I received a email from a close acquaintance stating 'that in honor of Breast-Cancer Survivors and the ongoing research in the field, women were showing our sympathy and sisterly solidarity by posting the color( and only the color) of our bras as our status. The message also said 'Don't tell the men, our secret' ....and well, EVERYONE loves a secret so I didn't tell my husband( What he doesn't know won't hurt him,right?) or any other man. ...but that was me.
Many ladies in the sisterhood of undergarments couldn't keep their big mouths shut though, and what started out as a good cause on the down-low became a day of pranks and in many cases an excuse for some chicks to show off their sexy side to virtual strangers ( some of the descriptions were straight out of a "Fredrick's Of Hollywood" catalog----->Black-see-through-lace with red velvet-hearts on a Monday morning ?? C'MON, QUIT LYIN'! I thought to myself, even strippers probably wear plain old white bras on Monday. ( for the record mine was strawberry pink, it just kinda' worked out like that *wink*)
Anyway, a fun time was had by all and hopefully it DID get people thinking about Breast Cancer research.........at some point.
* I just did this strip this week for "Urban Tymes" magazine. My editor wanted something encompassing all that February had going on: Black History Month, Valentine's Day and last but not least for fans of HBCU football , THE CIAA TOURNAMENT WEEK! ( I can't wait..it's gonna' be like 'Emerald City' from "TheWIZ' up in the joint!) Anyway, these pseudo-poets I created for this strip are not regulars of the "Bohemian Cafe" cast but they are representational of all the 'open-mic nights' I've gone to and seen just about every 'spoken-word stereotype' out there...the good, the bad and the WTF?
Check out this strip every month and other 'keeping-You-In-The-Know" content @
Jazzy Funk Nasties are a fictitious group of poets that I created for "Bohemian Cafe`". I was inspired by some of the spoken word artists I know and the Afro-Hippy attire that I and many of the artists,poets,dancers,etc I know wear, at times more like a costume than an actual outfit. "Really-Real Black" is a satirical poem I'd written several years ago, like in the early 90's. Basically it's about how I feel about neo-Black nationalists types who take themselves and their concept of what it means to be 'Black' waaaay too serious. At times I think some African-Americans see "Blackness" as a litmus test, but I see Black culture as not a homogeneous experience where one has to follow the status quo but unique to the individual. Anyway, I just saw this poem as something the "Jazzy Funk-Nasties" would do.....
Everything I do is Black… Really, reeeeeeal Black. I’m so Black you can’t even see me, ya’ just gotta’ take it as fact! Blacker than a Midnight Star/Blacker than a ‘Dark Chocolate Hershey Bar’/ Blacker than the bottom of the Blackest can of tar/Blacker than the “Black Panthers” think that they are! Really,Really, Reeeeeeeeal, Black.
I only hang with women who are Black..... Really, reeeeeal,Black. Big, thick, Nubian sistah’s with a big ole' ass in the back! Wearing cornrows and afros /an elephant’s bone in their nose/ with Kente`and mud cloth designs, intertwined on their clothes.
Now, I gotta’ have myself a man that's Black.... Really,reeeeeal, Black. With a Mandingo size d#ck swingin’ back to their crack! I want them with muscles,all rippled and cut.I want big,manly,man hands and a tight round butt!
I want my house to be Black.... Really,reeeeeeeeeeal Black. Spears hanging,beads swangin’ and straw like a shack. I want authentic, African art and authentic, African rugs, place mats with symbols, made in Kenya mugs. Y’all know I even like my Coffee Black… Really,reeeal Black. No sugar,no cream,no hint or trace of that. I don’t want any ‘white sh#t’ swirling in my java, and I want it real hot and boiling like lava!
When I wake up in the mornings and before I go to sleep at night, I only want to see Blackness and nothing of White! So I put on my Black bathrobe/ as I get out my Black bed. Step into my Black bathroom/ and comb my nappy,Black head. Look at my Black reflection smiling back at me /all of my Black&beautiful perfection is all that I see! So pleased with what I’m seeing,I decide to go out into the day. I’z gonna’ be droppin’ some beautiful Black Ebonics in all that I say! So I walk down my Black stairs/walk across my Black floor. Walk into my Black hallway/after I’ve opened my Black door. Open the Black shades to my Black-on-Black window……..
.....And I’ll be D@mned if I didn’t see,……some WHITE,@ss snow!
The Death Row Poets; are a team of unlikely rival poets that slam against the 'Jazzy-Funk Nasties' in the "Bohemian Cafe" novella. I was inspired by episodes of "OZ", HBO's now defunct TV show about prison life. Unfortunately even creative souls can be criminals( or is it the other way around, IDK ?) Well, I just thought it would be interesting, no make that....FUNNY to have a group of poets really beef with each other, ya' know like rappers do ( not quite on that Tupac-Biggie tip, but..) So "The Death Row Poets" were created,fresh from a 6 year lock-down in Riker’s Island State Penitentiary where they were the undefeated and (unopposed) state champs! Homicide, Burn Rubber, Manslaughter,Lady Larceny and Prickly Fingaz’
....Ok, what lover of spoken word is not familiar with "The Punany Poets"? I first became acquainted with the creator Jessica Holter and her troupe of thespians erotique' when they first appeared on that infamous episode of HBO's "REAL SEX: back in the mid 90's ; I've been a fan ever since. She's mad cool and I'm delighted to have her here as a guest, virtually anyway, at The Bohenian Cafe`.....CHECK IT! White Chocolate Cherry by Ghetto Girl Blue ( a.k.a Jessica Holter) http://www.punanypoets.com/index.html Her daddy’s sho nuff mad Thinkin’ of all the black dick she had Like a video vixen, scantily clad She stepping out the pad
White Chocolate Cherry She a ghetto dweller No one can tell her She ain’t a niggah White can’t get wit her the burbs don’t fit her
You can’t divide Her creamy thighs You can not lay her down Unless your skin is brown What’s a soccer Mom to do? She’s got gold ones too Grinning at your man Got his money in her hand making wifey plans She up to no good She so damn hood
White Chocolate Cherry She speak ebonic’ly She roll her eyes She fuss and fight She on a mission Her composition Sho’ get attention Wit her extensions She roll her head Three inch acrylics Spit hip hop lyrics Just like she wrote them
She’s an alabaster queen Redefining what Black Love means Ass like a anthem Swag like a phantom Even dread heads can’t resist The temptation in her hips White Chocolate Cherry She up to no good She so damn hood
by Ghetto Girl Blue
Property Of Jessica Holter, "All rights reserved"(®)
..Next up on the mic in Bohemian Cafe's "Punany Poets" series; is a lovely, lady lyricist with words hot like lava and a message like the neighborhood Paul Revere! She's rockin' rhymes AND droppin' dime. (fellas pay attention!) Do yourself a favor; if you haven't seen "The Punany Poets"LIVE....GO! In the meantime though, please show some love and come get yo'self a taste of Honey ........
Hello I’m Honey and I’m here to talk about "TANS"...... the absolute WORST, FUCKED UP kind of man. You may be curious as to what a TAN is, well just listen up while I give you the biz. TAN is an acronym for Tryfin’ Ass Nigga, the ones who lie and cheat not the ones married like Jigga. ....And don’t get it twisted, TANS ain’t only black,it ain’t a race thing it’s about how they act. A TAN keeps you involved in nothing but drama,from sideline hoe’s to hood rat baby mamas. They can cause wars on Twitter, Facebook and Myspace, have you ready to slap the lips off the next bitch face…who don’t know her place when it comes to yo’ man,but you mustn’t forget girl you gotta TAN. TANS play with your heart and they play with your mind, have you fall in love with they ass and then turn you blind. Let’s jump back to the mind, girl you will lose it. If you messin’ with a TAN you need to quit. ‘cause he ain’t legit and you ain’t a MC…just take my advice, please listen to me. My rhymes are elementary but my message is genius, don’t confuse love with some bomb ass penis. And I really do mean this, the shit ain’t worth it. Why should the one you love, keep you cryin’ and hurtin’? Have you stressin and worried about his location laid up with the next bitch before y’all vacation. It be the same situation time and time again, let his ass go & find a good man.He clearly ain’t the one, so chuck up the two. He gon’ stay doin’ him, so leave his ass and do you! What you need is some sun block SPF 1 Hunnid, keep on listenin’ to me and ima keep it 1 Hunnid. Sun block’s the good guy a.k.a. 'Mr. Right' , the dude that is tucked with you late at night. Sun block won’t make you “wifey”, he’ll make you his wife. This is the kind of man that you need In your life. You’ll love him, but he’ll love you more. And he ain’t the creepin’ type, no he ain’t a man whore. He’s not just a baby daddy, nope he’s a father.You don’t have to Kelis him... “no thank you, your honor”. 1st Lady Michelle has sun block and Jada Pinkett do too, the shelves are full of that good shit…just waiting for you. So ladies stop TANNING, stay out of the sun and quit messing with people’s ghetto ass sons.They don’t deserve us, no we can do better, and quit wasting your time & money on jail visits and letters. Live your life in the shade, TAN – Free and breezy after awhile this shit get’s real easy. When it comes to relationships I’m not an expert, but I know first hand how it feels to be hurt. Now I want to help others, because I couldn’t help me, but I lived and I learned and now I’m TAN –Free! "All rights reserved"(®)
What can I say about the inspiration behind this particular strip..... HATERZ! We all have 'em, some of us more than others and if you don't....hey, YOU must be the hater! Now, I do think honesty is the best policy for the most part, BUT I also think one should use tact when attempting to confront or advise another but 'hurt people hurt people' soooooo.... either learn not to ask someone's honest opinion, or deal with it! There's a BIG difference in offering someone the metaphorical 'blue pill' to swallow and shoving it down their dry throat!
"JUICE" This is an old strip that I'm finally posting on the blog. Before I created the "Bohemian Cafe`" graphic novella, I drew 'B.Cafe' as a comic strip that used to appear in "Cultural Calendar", "COMEDY" magazine, 'SOTAC" magazine and 'SILK' magazine. I felt limited by the typical four to six panels with the set-up & punchline in the end ( and I honestly didn't think the 'Almighty' newspaper syndicates were going to make a room for another ethnic cartoon) So I adapted to the graphic novella; changing my whole storytelling style to a detailed,longer, more adult format with an ongoing storyline. But I still like drawing and writing the strips, it's also a great way to introduce each character's modis operandi ... these lil quick snippets into who they are.
Now, I'm a HUGE fan of The "Vagina Monologues", soooo when I was contacted on 'Facebook'about drawing a caricature of author-creator & executive producerSharon K. McGhee and some of the cast offrom her hot-newplay "The Pocketbook Monologues" ...Of course, I HAD TO BE DOWN!!! The really kick-@ss thing is "The Pocketbook Monologues" are debuting on the Oxygen Channel tonight( 9-24-09) in a segment of Oxygen's monster hit and my addiction "The Real Housewives Of Atlanta"( ATL HousewivesKandi BurrussandLisa Wu-Hartwellare part of the cast) I CAN'T WAIT!!! I've seen footage of the show, and IT IS AWESOME!!! Here's a sample from the play, CHECK IT: INTRO – PROTECT YOUR POCKETBOOK
Black women in this country are facing an HIV/AIDS epidemic. The public service
announcements tell us there are ways to protect ourselves: abstain from sex or use a condom.
Having unprotected sex is like playing Russian roulette with your life, dissing yourself. Essence
magazine did the right thing when they published the new face of HIV/AIDS on the cover
featuring Ms. Rae Lewis, but that was a long time ago.
I remember having my first aids test, waiting near two weeks for the results, those were the
longest fourteen days of my life. I tried to remember every time I shared my body with someone
On the fourteenth day, I saw my doctor and reading her body language, I knew I would be O.K.
Negative, Thank God! Remember my motto, “NO GLOVE NO LOVE!”
For the first time in my life, I didn’t dread my OB/GYN annual checkup. Before Dr. Gayle, I
hated the picking and probing, and the exam table that was always cold and those flimsy gowns
that leave your ass hanging out, and of course, the cold giddy-up stirrups. Dr. Gayle’s office
was different. Her office was filled with aromatherapy candles, soothing music, button up cloth
examination gowns and colorful footies for the cold stirrups. Dr. Gayle was the only doctor that
ever asked if I wanted to watch my examination.
Dr. Gayle was usually cheerful and upbeat, on this day, she was not herself. She was troubled
and I asked what was wrong. She said…PROTECT YOUR POCKETBOOK
“It was a year ago today that a young lady I was treating, walked out of my office went home
and took a bottle of pills and killed herself. On that day, I told her that her blood work had come
back positive for the HIV virus. I held her hand and told her that with the proper medicine,
proper diet and exercise she could live a long time, just like Magic Johnson. She was a beautiful
woman – only 37 years old.
She was a grade school teacher. I went over all the options with her and she seemed to take
the diagnosis well. Later that night while watching the news, I heard about her death. I got out
of bed and went to her apartment. Thanks to a good friend that works for the police department,
I gained entry to her place. Her home was beautiful and well-taken care of. The furniture and
hardwood floors were highly polished; there wasn’t a speck or dust anywhere.
I studied her home to try to capture who my patient really was. Her furniture was a mix of old
and new. She had some beautiful antique pieces mixed with some contemporary leather
arrangements. The bookshelves were filled to capacity with novels and non-fiction all in
alphabetical order. I continued to make my way through her home and I noticed everything was
perfect, everything in order and everything in its place.
The African artwork that adorned the cool gray and white walls reflected a woman that
understood her heritage. Her kitchen left me speechless. When I opened the cabinet doors,
the canned goods were lined up with perfect spacing between them; the canned goods were in
alphabetical order, too. Everything in her home was precise.
The clothes were color-coded. First there were blues, then greens, yellows, followed by blacks.
All her clothes were on wooden hangers facing the same directions.
Her extensive collection of shoes would make Imelda Marcos and Kimora Lee Simmons
envious – each pair in their own box with a color Polaroid photo taped on the outside. I never
recalled so much order in a home.
I wondered how a woman that was as meticulous with keeping her home in order, could be so
imprudent when it came to her sexual health and maybe, just maybe, if she had, she would be
This is a poem I heard recently by talented spoken word artist L.Monique. Honestly, I wasn't really feeling the poem at first BUT recently I had a good friend help me see another perspective...... The cool thing is it gave me the idea for "Guest Poet Spotlight". Unlike my cartoons on here that are based on no one in particular , the Guest poet will always be a caricature likeness of the actual person. Check it...
There once was a little fat girl from Brooklyn upon her head thick nappy curls kept folks lookin’ at a dark little berry with the sweetest juice around her pudgy little neck societies ideal beauty image feeling like a noose
during yesteryears of thick thighs -joined together by friction, cornstarch & summer’s humidity
and so her story began that was then
it’s now 30years and 2children later and she’s grown up and become a Skinny Bitch and like her if you haven’t already noticed..........they’re popping up everywhere!
I mean; Skinny Bitches go to school Skinny Bitches go to the mall some Skinny Bitches perform poetry plenty can be found at the job and them Pretty Skinny Bitches.... well, we all know they’re the worst of all
but the plain, simple, unspoken truth is... Skinny Bitches hate being called......... Skinny Bitches
hate not being able to discuss our latest shopping spree because talking about our dress size makes you feel uncomfortable
Hate having to eat like a fat girl small portions in public large snacks in private because your constant noticing and mentioning of
“you gonna eat all that, if I ate that if I even looked at that, a moment on the lips a lifetime..... yada, yada, yada” is becoming a real pain in our boney asses!
And so, I say to you today - to Skinny Bitches everywhere Rise Up! - Stand Up On Your Feet! Place the fist attached to your puny arms in the air and clearly enunciate; to women larger than you everywhere Get The Fuck Over It!
Because We Skinny Bitches wish you would wish you could
wish you could - empower yourself without putting others down Wish you would - truly embrace your womanism acknowledge and know that most, if not all women in the world are at sometime in their lives.... insecure about something
so stop hating me when I complain about how I look in an outfit how I hate being a member of the itty bitty committee though you have to admit needing no more than one hook in your bra is not only so much less expensive and so much more expeditious it’s also kinda cool but I digress.... Pardon me and allow me to mention
how I dread going to the gym but know I need to work out because thin does not necessarily equal healthy stop hating - stop hating - stop frowning up your face - get your hands off your waist when you hear me speak of how I’m watching what I eat because though a few extra pounds aren’t a major concern and I really wouldn’t mind having a little more junk in my trunk I still don’t want to die from high blood pressure, diabetes or heart disease
so please - do recall
there once was a little fat girl from Brooklyn now that she’s grown and thin folks are still lookin’ unable to see how heavy she really is
throwing down in the kitchen, the bedroom, the boardroom- totally handling her biz there once was a little fat girl from Brooklyn
but now she prayers every day for feminine energy to make a way for ALL WOMEN in the world to collectively say... No Matter What Package You Are In I See You and You Have My Respect
Okaay, for those who have never met me..this is pretty much what I look like, this caricature I've posted here: Long,luscious,skinny locks/ full,thick, child-bearing thighs and a smile usually plastered across my face....yep, that's me. I wrote the poem as a tribute to the champion of plus-sized women everywhere ,comedian Mo'Nique. I auditioned for her reality TV show on Oxygen called Mo'Nique's FAT CHANCE and I actually made it to the finals BUT alas, I didn't make it to Paris( where the show took place..Quel Domage, Zut Alors!)I also learned that reality TV shows are ALL about creating a cast of characters. ;-) So when I heard local poet L. Monique (the poet above) read her poem a few weeks ago, I thought this would be the perfect answer poem! It seemed to me like a really cute idea to draw us both as cartoons and post the poems as though it was a "call & response", sooooo here's MY response.....
Mad props to Mo'Nique for uplifting the FAT physique and shining the spotlight on it… Shout-outs to BIG girls with those curves that rock worlds and that sassy way you flaunt it…. Much love and much hugs to big-ballers, shot-callers, and thugs, cuz’ if it ain’t thick, they don’t want it! Listen up ladies cuz’ here’s the bottom line----> This ain’t nuthin’ new, Big sistahs have ALWAYS been fine! Time after time through the ages/ just check the history pages/ from Queen Latifah to Queen Sheba....we always shined on center stages! Since the beginning of civilization, back on the mother continent. WE were the inspiration for pyramids, palaces and magnificent monuments. Kings conquered whole armies just to bask in our voluptuous glory. If anyone tells you different ..Honey, they don’t know the WHOLE story! A thick sistah’ inspired European fashion just by the size and shape of her booty. So after all this while, we’re FINALLY in style? Puh-leaze Chile! Thick beauty ain’t nuthin’ new to me! WE were PHAT….before Kimmora Lee’s designs, she just added the ‘baby’. WE were BOOTYLICIOUS ..before Jay-Z’s love had Beyonce’ goin’ so crazy! WE were CURVY…back when J-Lo was just plain ole’ “Jenny From The block” But now the fashion shot callers/ want OUR hard-earned phat dollars/ to drop into THEIR shops, cuz they now have our sizes in stock! ( Yeahhhh, catch a rock!) So to the mainstream media now that we finally have your attention... Big girls are creatin’ mass hysteria/ in all the influential areas/ just give me a minute to mention… that Hollywood had better recognize that the phat dollar goes a long way! We want our beauty queens up on that silver screen and we have the means to pay! Mo’Nique is raking and making major dough/ from “The Parkers”, to “Phat Girlz” to “Hair Show”/ proving to the haters what some men already know: “Once you go thick…Ya’ Just Want Some Mo’! Hollywood told Mo’Nique she’d never pull in the Benjamin's: without playing the FAT momma, the FAT neighbor or the FAT friend. She never quit, just flipped the script plus played the leading lady in the end! She proved the need for big girl leads is a proven point and valid! I betcha’ that skinny agent that slept on Mo’Nique is ch-ch-choking on her salad! Now, this poem ain’t about skinny chick hating/ I’m just plus-sized celebrating’ Cuz’ it’s time out for the thick chick dissin’, disregarding and degrading! Cuz’ there is a certain fallacy/ you know a false reality/ that thick chicks are lonely, desperate and depressed. Like everyone else we’re strivin’/workin’ from nine to five then/ tryin’ to just get by in/ and somehow survive in/ this society that is so image obsessed ! Please believe that not only skinny women get all the guys/mesmerize all the eyes/ hear all the ‘How you doin’ shorty’s”, “Hello baby’s” and the “Hi’s” Now, this should come as no surprise: But thick-chicks don’t have to compromise/ settle for less or some playa’s lies/ don’t have to apologize/ for the circumference of our thighs/ and especially what lies inside…. So I say to my fellow "Sistah' Big Bones": ALWAYS have pride in whatever you do. It’s the measure of your actions NOT your size that defines you! And to ALL my sistahs: Black or White…..Skinny or Thick. There are enough opportunities & love for us all just ‘strut yo’ stuff’ and take your pick! All rights reserved (C)2005 Lena 'The Art Diva'
WARNING : This comic book ain't for everybody..Only the SEXY people! The gang's all here: Annie,Idea`, Dylan,Carmen, Sixties, M& M and Rhea of course! 48 pages of poetry,passion and pure craziness....BUY IT NOW!
Get The T-Shirts ..........
Be The First On Your Block To ROCK!.....BUY IT NOW!
PRESENTING THEBOHEMIAN CAFE'CAST....
CARMEN ROSARIA HERNANDEZ............AGE: 24............BIRTHPLACE: Bronx, NY.... (“Da’ Boogie Down Baby!”)................RACE: Puerto Rican ............CAREER ASPIRATIONS :Banking on the exposure of her ONE video with well known rapper "Ridiculous”, Carmen plans on being the next big thing since J-Lo! .............REAL JOB: Aerobics Instructor.............SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bi-Sexual .A self-proclaimed “Freak”, Carmen is down for “whatevah”............ FAVORITE BOOK: "LOCAS" (Love& Rockets) ............PERSONAL STYLE : “Crazy/sexy/cool”
MARCUS MALCOLM JAMAL JACKSON...............Mostly known as "M&M"..... a.k.a. (Dark Poet, Lyrical 1,Black Osiris)....... AGE: “A man’s age is not reflective of his mentality”( he’s 25) ........BIRTHPLACE: “ BROOKLYN, IN DA’ HOUSE! ”Representin’ Flatbush, son! ........CAREER ASPIRATIONS: To be a best selling author and perform poetry with his band on a world tour ........REAL JOB: Works in a used CD store and writes freelance for the “Creative Chillin” Magazine.................. PERSONAL STAT: Single with girlfriend Idea`
IDEA` DESIREE` DUBOIS (pronounced eye’-dee-ay) .................AGE: ”26 and working it baby!” ..............BIRTHPLACE: Baltimore, MD .............CAREER ASPIRATIONS: Wants to be an Oscar winning actress and bust Hollywood wide open, retire and open a Day Spa/Salon ..............REAL JOB: Hair stylist @ “Natural Nubian Woman” hair salon............MARITAL STATUS: Single, but wearing her boyfriend M&M down any day now, expect Spring nuptials!....... LIFE MANTRA:“Too Blessed To Be Stressed"!
DYLAN McDOUGAL ……...AGE: 26............BIRTHPLACE: Philadelphia...............CAREER ASPIRATIONS: “I just wanna’ play my music, man. That’s all!” ...............REAL JOB: Teaches music lessons @ the Center For Fine Arts (CFA............MARITAL STATUS : Single, with an annoying girlfriend known simply as “Goth Chic”.......... PERSONAL MOTTO: ‘ Just Do It….or shut the @#%$ up about it!
REBECCA-ANN SUE HOLCOMB................ AGE: 23......................CAREER ASPIRATIONS: To run her own non-profit art studio for underprivileged kids......................REAL JOB : Teaches art lessons @ the Center For Fine Arts........BIRTHPLACE: Darlington, South Carolina.. Home of horse races, pick up trucks and rednecks with attitude, but her family is loaded!.............PERSONAL STAT : Annie is hopelessly in love with Dylan( who acts like she’s not alive!)
“SIXTIES”................................ REAL NAME: Louis Jones............ AGE: Between 24-29,“Don’t ask, don't tell”................ CAREER ASPIRATIONS : “To be the baddest fashion designer since Isaac Mizrahi”...............REAL JOB: Manager of an upscale women’s boutique.................RACE: “Sexual chocolate” .........SEXUAL ORIENTATION: ”Gay and lovin’ it!”................. PERSONAL STYLE: Fabulous, fiiiine, and totally retro; hence the nickname ‘Sixties’!........................... MENTOR: “Besides Isaac Mizrahi,... OPRAH! She’s rich, famous, and skinny now too ! Oprah is a bad B@tch!"
RHEA ‘Peaches’ RHANDLE.......... AGE: 26 ( but plans on subtracting every year once she reaches 30)................BIRTHPLACE: Charlotte, N.C. .................. CAREER ASPIRATIONS: Jazz singer, but willing to ‘sell out’ and make a few triple platinum CDs for The “Phat Booty” record label, retire young and marry rich!................... REAL JOB: Waitress in a jazz club, occasionally allowed to sing................... PERSONAL STAT: Very single. ”Is Tommy Mottola Free?”................RACE: Black, but tells people “I got some Indian in my family !”
My name is Lena J. (nee' Hopkins) Jackson; but in this case the 'J' is for my middle name, Janelle. I'm a full-time cartoonist, part-time columnist, self-published author, sporadic painter, occasional spoken-word poet, devoted art teacher, round-the-clock friend and I WAS BORN A DIVA!