Nik Nicholson's Blog
October 8, 2025
Tartar Sauce
Is it just me, or did Tartar Sauce get sweet? If you are still eating Mc Donald’s, their filet fish, still has the older better kind. Long John Silvers and Captain D’s… I can’t remember which one, but one of them makes their tartar sauce. The other has the sweet sauce in the packets. I never can remember.
Anyway, I made my own today. Sour cream, Mayonnaise, dill, dill relish (overkill I didn’t realize I had dill relish when I bought the fresh dill), lemon juice, white pepper, salt, smoked paprika, chives, parsley and horse radish. I don’t do measurements, but sour cream and mayo should be about the same amount and the most of all ingredients, they’re the base. I used paprika and fresh dill as a topping.
It was so good… It tasted slightly better than the one I grew up eating. Tartar sauce is such a weird thing to add sugar to. If anyone knows why they did it, let me know.
September 19, 2025
I Miss My Poppy
Today is a regular day. I was listening to some seventies grooves. It’s raining for the real melodrama. I tried to talk my partner into swimming in the rain. There are still songs I am learning the meaning of.
The Chi-lites, Have You Seen Her, started playing. And I could see my dad two stepping singing and disappearing in the song. I mentioned he loved music and this would have been a good day…
We were chilling just listening to music. My dad would have loved to be here with me… I miss him so much right now.
September 13, 2025
Fake Acceptance Speech, Too.
First, I’m grateful I didn’t fall walking up here. That is one of my greatest fears. I want to thank you for standing as I came up. I love us. I love people.
Ok. I want to thank IZ for standing with me when I did not stand with myself. I want to thank IZ for allowing me to reach self acceptance. I want to thank my parents. Sending peace to my father in the other realm.
I want to thank my grandmother for leaving me with her dreams. I want to thank my characters for breathing and being.
I appreciate being seen. Thank you for this moment. Love and Light
September 8, 2025
My Ideal Week
Writers’ retreat where I have days to myself to plot and write. Then we come together to discuss our projects or share what we are proud of from our projects. Late night talks about the state of the world. Laughing til I ache… Coffee hot chocolate, cause I don’t really like coffee alone…
Meeting other writers and having an opportunity to bond and establish a connection. Poetry readings, pastries and revolution.
My Uncle Sent Me A Rainbow
My dad and I were close. I mean so close when I got older he would share his fears. There is a wall… a way parents censor themselves to protect their children. So I can’t say my dad told me everything, but what I can say is he was far more open. At the end of his life, he told me he was terrified of dying. He’d also answer questions I asked about what he needed like, “I don’t really know what I want/need. I’ve never died before.”
Losing my dad, it hasn’t been a year yet and I am still reeling from the loss. I’m still crying some days uncontrollably. Of my two parents my father was the nurturer. He was the one who talked to me about my choices and still attempted to guide me. While my mom I guess was more trusting of my own wisdom or… I don’t know. Without my dad, she’s stepped up and I’m getting a better understanding of her.
I can’t draw any real conclusions. Even now my mother is a mystery to me. There are days when I just look at her and long to understand. I’m also accepting you don’t need to understand people to love them. Compassion can cover this… I use to… I’d given up on understanding or trying to love my mom in the verb way. I love my mom, but I didn’t try to be in her life. We’ve always been at odds.
I go months without putting on makeup. I have natural hair. I think the truth is a gift even when it’s disappointing. I need to love people. My current partner welcomes the opportunity to be held and cuddled by me. I need to love more than I need to be loved. Which is why I’ve considered adopting, but that’s another discussion.
My mom is this beautiful woman who I wish allowed me to take pictures of her in various stages of getting ready. She literally a classic act. She won’t leave her house without a full face of makeup. Me not being so involved in my presentation, pisses her off. LOL!!! I try to remind myself that perception could get a whole town burned down when she was a child. I remind myself, whenever they discuss Emette Till my mom always notes where she was when he was killed and when he had his funeral.
As an artist, I have done spiritual work to focus on what is important to me and not so much what other people think. I accepted I couldn’t control someone’s perception. For work or some event that tells me what the dress code is I rise to the occasion. I’ve got more clothes than I’ve got bodies… I don’t like shopping. Unless it’s food or art supplies. I love a full fridge. We don’t share the same interests and since my dad died, it feels like the my mom is meeting for the first time.
My mom often tells my partner things that my partner thought was common knowledge. I have to tell my mom to listen to me. It’s only recently that she has reached some conclusions about me, which she shares. She tells me I’m always up to something. Like… Instead of paying $300 to get my car key replaced and programmed, I ordered the casing online and used my glasses and jewelry tools to set the key in new casing. Maybe it was five dollars with shipping…
In any case, my dad use to listen to all my theories. He use to test the theories he was learning on me. Like he told me things… I’m trying to focus… That after he has passed, I’m coming to believe were true. I wish we could have that discussion, where I can say you told me. My life is big on accountability and being honest. My dad would tell you the God honest truth in a way that wasn’t offensive or even pushing guilt. He didn’t believe people were always what they’ve done. Hitmen are literal murderers. Someone who hits a child chasing a ball into the street, isn’t a murderer. In many of those accidental death situations, the punishment people give themselves is greater than anything the law can apply. Being found not guilty or not being charged, doesn’t actually make them free.
My dad was a wise man. His wisdom lives in me and is evolving. I could tell how surprised he was with what I knew… And that was a gift. My mom, she wondered why I thought so much… Which is saying a lot cause she’s a Virgo. If you know astrology… Drifting. I’m back.
I started this post, because my mother’s oldest brother called me this morning. He was just checking in to see how he was doing. I was in the middle of writing, but I had headphones on so I took his call. I like to set aside time to talk to him. We could talk a couple hours. I miss him, and dream about when I’m in town what restaurant I want to visit with him. He treats me like a dad, but he’s a little more hands off. He listens and affirms my choices or says why would you do that… LOL!!!
Anyway, last week he sent me a rainbow. He’d taken a picture on his phone in my hometown. The rainbow was beautiful. It also touched me deeply that he shared it with me. Let me lay on the love here. He doesn’t know how to use his phone. He’s got a smart phone, but he also has five smart children, who are tasks with keeping his phone able to take calls. When he says, I’m going to text you, it use to mean they were going to text from his phone. He text me that picture himself, standing out in the world after taking the picture.
Just the thought of him thinking of me and is moving me to tears as I write. This uncle of mine is all spirit. People use to say he didn’t talk much. As I’ve grown, I’ve learned a lot of the ways he communicates is nonverbal. When my dad was dying he didn’t go two days without checking on me… Sometimes he’d come sit with me outside my dad’s when someone gave me a break. We didn’t speak, we just sat, let the breeze and the sun do the talking.
When my dad was refusing to go on hospice, because that meant they would stop giving him “life saving” treatments… I didn’t believe my dad would die. My dad had beaten death at least five other times I personally knew of. I don’t know how many he didn’t ‘mention. My dad lived a full life, I tellya. Even as he was dying he’d say, I had a great life. I had a lot of fun. I did the things I wanted to do. Coming back to the point of this paragraph. I thought, maybe my dad would beat cancer. My uncle would come look at my dad, just speak and then sit with me. My uncle one day said, “You’re dad is going to die. I’m sorry. Just make him comfortable. Don’t argue with him. Don’t nobody want to die.”
I wanted my dad to be comfortable. They wouldn’t give him the meds he needed. My dad was courageous and he suffered for everyday of his life. Pain I can’t imagine and I hope to never experience. At one point, he could barely stand to be touched, but he was afraid morphine which would relieve the pain would kill him. Eventually, the pain was too great and he was forced on hospice… We could argue semantics, I’d say cancer killed him. He’d say it was morphine. He’d say morphine was a serial killer of the elderly. He’d have stories about people getting hip injuries and being treated with morphine and dying.
What I’m saying is, all my life I have been surrounded by amazing men. I have male cousins who amaze me because they don’t reflect the images of Blaq men I’ve seen. They are successful. They have families. Even my baddest (not in the good bad way) has three babies that are thriving.
My cousin on the passing of his father, with a wife and kids, asked if I was going to spend the night. I had to remind him we were in our thirties and he had a whole wife to hold him. But it was his vulnerability, and honest that struck me.
My cousin the other day, told a BlaQ man he’d just met that he didn’t need to get married. The man was a business associate looking at rings. My cousin told the man he noticed his wondering eye and he didn’t even give him the energy that he wanted to settle down. The man admitted that all his friends, were getting married. He’d spent the last few years going to weddings. Thirties, career going, established financial foundation and he was bored… Marriage seemed like it could be fun, shake some stuff up.
Nah, that’s not how you determine if you want to get married my cousin advised him. My cousin is very emotionally intelligent. He’d asked the man questions to ascertain his suitability. I also want to note, my cousin and his crew, which also includes a few of my uncles are activist… Their work is more one on one. They mentor young men, not in any official capacity, but they raise their own boys and any friends, and any strays they need to get together. They get into it with boys and their parents… They get into places where other people just pity a child.
They get into it by doing stuff like, offering to take another child or two to practice. By making sure the other kid is showing up to school and behaving. By challenging kids to walk in their full power. By shaming fathers into doing their job and showing up. By talking BlaQ men out of doing self-destructive stuff. By creating jobs or finding jobs for folks to keep them from being left to their own devices or vices.
So when I come to write, I’m writing about men who send me rainbows. Men who call and have whole conversations about everything but sex. Men who are whole human beings trying to make the world a better place by being their best selves. My cousin barely sleeps now, because he won’t stop staying up late and he has children who get up at five when he’s usually just his REM sleep.
I remember when I moved back home, the cousin I grew up with and who stayed in trouble passed me in traffic with all his youth in the car. How he seemed to be proud to be their to protect them. How when I blowed to get his attention, and said he had the whole crew how he beamed proud of them, and told me how well his son was doing and that his daughter made the honor roll. He wasn’t proud he was there, he was going to be there. He was proud they were thriving. He was filled with love and now that two of his children are adults, when he travels, he makes sure they can go with him and his wife… And he’s been married more than twenty years…
One of my cousins worked as much as he could in the south. He worked ten hours on weekends, and spread the twenty over the evenings while in high school, while maintaining a high GPA. Then when he graduated from high school, he eloped with his first love. That was more than twenty-five years ago. They are still married. For a second they had a Youtube channel, for family only… Because life had gotten crazy, college, work, children and they bought a house. So because they didn’t see us a lot they would post videos to us, send us links and talk to us on posts when they could.
This cousin, upset our elders. Some of my family… Born in the late thirties early forties were not amused. I forgot to mention him and his wife, both eighteen, moved out of their parents’ house and into their own place without discussing it with anyone. Before anyone knew anything, they were married and raising a home together. Anyway, my cousin deeply spiritual AND religious, asked the pastor of their shared family church for a moment…Where he had been a young deacon and mentor to his peers.
Then he stood on business. He told them that his wife was his first love. He knew he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life and if they would forgive his passion, he decided to be a man at eighteen and lead a house and provide. Chiiiiiild there wasn’t a dry eye in the house… His wife was a mess. I think baby one came after that their speech. It was a long speech in that way BlaQ folks orate in church… It was cosigned by elder men, who stood as he spoke in agreement.
When I write, I want the world to see more men who are doing ordinary things with these expansive, evolving emotional landscapes.
The other day my uncle sent me a rainbow. I told my mom and she responded in a way that seemed dismissive. I was holding my phone looking at it and having all the feels… I also am very present. I try to be in the energy, navigating whether to feel it or stay on dry land. So, I followed my mom, and told her how important it was that her brother sent me a rainbow and how much it meant… And how my heart was full. Then she responded, “Pop is a nice man. A sweet man.”
I usually edit… which for me helps me censor. Today, I decided to be open and let all the love I feel for the men who have taught me they are humans. Not to be slapped because they are bigger, more muscle and society says physical abuse is okay against them. Society says these men don’t exist. Streamlining characters doesn’t show the complexities of being BlaQ males. Needing to be strong, fearless and a leader while being feared, erased and told they expendable.
When my uncle called, I decided to be present. I decided to listen. Then I was moved to tell you he exists and so do other wonderful men. Many who are deeply spiritual and involved in their communities.
Forgive errors. I had to leave them so I didn’t hide.
August 23, 2025
My book being published on audible.
Tell us about the last thing you got excited about.
I’m a need. I listen to my book all the time in disbelief. Also to hear my writing. It’s interesting to hear someone else read your work.
I do spoken word. These poems were to be read silently. The language is brain teasing. It definitely gives me greater understanding of my poetic style and voice.
August 21, 2025
How Do You Navigate Being Fine?
You know that person. The one who walks into a room and somehow makes your heart skip—not just because they’re stunning, but because their beauty feels like a force field. Maybe she’s someone you’ve seen in real life, or maybe she lives in your imagination. Either way, she’s so naturally beautiful, it’s almost intimidating.
Think about it for a second. What does it feel like to be that beautiful? To have people constantly reminding you of it, even when you don’t want to be reminded? Maybe you’ve been in a room with someone like that—and maybe, just maybe, you felt a little intimidated.
Does their beauty make you tongue-tied? Nervous? Like you’re just not enough? I want to hear from you.
How do you respond when someone stunning acts like they don’t want the attention? Does it make them more real or more distant? And if you’ve ever been the one who rolls their eyes at compliments, what’s going on behind that reaction?
Let’s talk about the complexities behind beauty—the power, the vulnerability, and how sometimes the most naturally gorgeous people are the ones struggling the most to feel seen.
Drop your stories, thoughts, or even questions below. Let’s get real about what it means to be fine—and why that can be both a blessing and a challenge.
I’m working on a character inspired by a real woman like this—someone who doesn’t bother with makeup or fancy jewelry, but just is effortlessly gorgeous. And here’s the twist: when you compliment her, she rolls her eyes. Not because she’s stuck-up or rude, but because the attention makes her uncomfortable. She seems so confident, yet underneath, I wonder if she’s actually insecure.
Fake Acceptance Speech
I have been human. I have taken breathing for granted. I have doubted my gift. Let people call it a hobby, therapy or who said I needed to make real career goals. All the people I expected to support me doubted me, including myself.
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My mother always thought I loved my father more. I was just tired of hating myself with her… And I forgive her, because people who hate themselves can’t love others without cutting them regularly. My dad knew how to love with his whole self. His love was big, forgiving, curious, hopeful. He believed in me deeply and expected me to be great but died before I made a dent in the world. I pray I am something for him, more than I want to end this ache of failure.
I write inspite of my doubt. Inspite of not really having an audience. Inspite of my mom telling me not to write black but do something main stream. I ask her what is main stream. It’s a question she can’t answer. Then I thank tony morrison for discussing how people asked her to write about other people. When you are 13 percent of the population and you don’t see your reflected anywhere, to write the people already seen is to stand in front of a brick wall expecting it to mirror you.
Cognitive dissonance is so crazy. People celebrate Denzel, but tell the boy perfecting his acting skills in the mirror to stop acting like a faggot. I know some amazing faggot actors. They are the most intense. I’m all over the place. I’m thinking about Don Cornelius making it and killing himself. Luther Vandross whose truth is out and his music no less loved. I hate that he didn’t get to be all of himself in a world that sees him wholly now and loves him still.
I think about how as humans, we make the world a hard place for others. I’m definitely guilty of this and wish I could take back all the ways I did the very thing I hate. I want to be a victim, but I’m such a good villian.
Thank you
July 28, 2025
A Poem For Contrary Muthafuckas
October 2, 2020 Draft release
A friend was discussing an issue facing her own community. She specifically asked people not part of her community not to share their views on her post or page. As she was looking for solutions and suggestions from the community being affected. Still, the conversations was constantly being derailed by “not all… do…” shut the fuck up. No one thinks all of anyone or anything does something. Soooo, here is a poem for contrary muthafuckas who love stating the obvious.
Not all thoughts should be contemplated.
Not everything should be regulated.
Not every dream should be realized. Not every struggle is a lesson.
Not every question should be answered.
Not every question should be asked.
Not every adult has matured.
Not every child is childish.
Not all of your haters are actually hating.
Not all the people who love you like you.
Not all food has to be cooked.
Not all cars are red. Not all books can be found in a library.
Not all Blaq kids come from single-parent households.
Not all houses are homes.
Not all people are born straight.
Not all gay people have been sexually abused.
Not all straight people have never been sexually abused.
Not all straight people are straight.
Not all gay people are gay.
Not all bisexuals have two partners.
Not all bisexuals want two partners.
Not all single people want to be married.
Not all married people want to be married.
Not all information is informative.
Not all wisdom is wise.
Not all horizons are beautiful. Imagine war zones.
Not all sunrises and sunsets are about the sun.
Not all people are smart.
Not all smart people have common sense.
Not all common sense is common.
Not all people who sleep outside are homeless.
Not all comedians are funny.
Not all Karens are white.
Not all models are beautiful.
Not all beautiful people are beautiful people.
Not all spiritual people are spiritual.
Not everyone speaking should be heard.
Not everything needs to be said.
Not everything can be understood.
Not all understandings can be comprehended.
Not all sages are to be burned.
Not all lovers love each other.
Not all apologies are sincere.
Not all reads are about books, psychics or meters.
Not all parents parent.
Not all hurt people hurt people.
Not all wounds are intentional.
Not all help helps.
Not everything has a reason.
Not every battle will be survived.
Not every survival requires battle.
Not everything legal is ethical.
Not everything morally right is legal.
Not everything organic is good for you.
Not all drug users are addicts.
Not all health food is healthy.
Not all days are sunny.
Not all music is good.
Not all teachers teach.
Not all cancers are in breasts.
Not all perspectives are valid.
Not all fear is bad.
Not all gods should be worshiped.
Not all saints are saints.
Not all sinners need salvation.
Not all lives matter. Duh!
July 11, 2025
Christmas Giddy
I’ve been checking my Amazon app delivery notifications for the past few days to see when my final book copies will come.
As a self publisher, I do all the things. I design my covers, and the colors you see when designing, then transferring to PDF, the final upload and then the print don’t always reflect the final product. I’ve had to redo books multiple times to make sure the back print, which was crystal clear during design shows up.
So to see the final product is so exciting. Nothing has made me this joyous and happy in forever. Finally got my book today and I’m overjoyed.
Shout out to all my friends who continue inspiring me by chasing their own endeavors.
Thank you, Claudia Moss, for always believing in me and making my editing affordable. Girl you know I couldn’t publish without you!!!!!!! Love Love Love.
Thank you, Daddy, for always believing in me. I hate you won’t be here to see all the magic I’m finna make in your name and the name of our ancestors. Thank you for your love. I miss you so much.
