Friday, March 31, 2006
but i have two days of studio work to complete - and if not
now when? i'll beback for before they can blink... but that doesn't
stop me from wanting to jump back in the bed and fall awake to his
they are heavy. and hypnotic. and i want to be there when he wakes and
says 'morning. i want to be there when she pushes my eyelids open with her
voice too shrill for daytime perception. it hurst beautifully, i only miss it when
im gone -- in the midst of the morning, i just want to sleep until i dont. and she
reminds me that the world is happening regardless of what i am doing - so i jump
to it! find my self soaking away a dream somewhere and start moving -- auto pilot
is a beautiful thing.
but now. i just want to be back from denver. where the people are really dope and the
poetry pushes the envelope (i so not meant to rhyme). and of course i wanna thank Live
mik for lookin out on the spontaneous atx visit. i have to thank the stars for the great ones
and of course. ms jo - who made this beautiful blog design after peepin' my poor excuse of one
last week! love u much girlie... and to you - for reading me every day and not holding it against my mental health.
we will talk soon - weekly breakdown of this week's past events or something. it was a doozy
bklyn boarding a JFK jet
Thursday, March 30, 2006
by Mahogany L. Browne
Metropolitan Museum of Art is the last place Lamar Manson wants to have a photo shoot. Instead, Black Ice, the first Spoken Word Artist signed to Def Jam Records, opts to have his mug taken on the corner of 138th and Lenox, in Harlem. The building shadowing his stocky frame is covered with Graffiti writing, street monikers and boarded up windows. The old brick foundation has crumbled with time, but is oddly enough, the only background this North Philly native is comfortable with. “I’m hoping I don’t become an opportunist. I should never say never, but – I will never sell out my art form”. And since his introduction to the spoken sounds scene at Philadelphia’s Buttermilk in 1998, Black Ice has remained true to his word.
Teenagers watching the scene from the sideline find themselves engrossed in a conversation with the 29-year-old wordsmith featured on HBO’s Def Poetry Jam. “Hip-Hop is the exact same thing as Spoken Word,” says Black Ice on the relativity of the two genres. “Spoken Word is about people writing what they feel, getting up on stage and performing. Emcees do the same thing,” he leans in slowly tugging at the cigarette and exhaling. “Think about it. From James Baldwin and Amiri Baraka to Sonia Sanchez, they were the writers and lecturers. They were the prolific, profound, gritty cats who got on the corner talking about what’s going on – they were the emcees of their time. Now, our writers are Jay Z, Common, Posodnous, & Ja Rule.” He leans back, before adding, “You may not want to acknowledge it, but they are.”
This father of two wears the same paternal pride when listening to his soon-to-be-born debut CD. His eyes search the faces of his listeners. Scouring for any of sign of: surprise, disappointment or excitement. He is familiar with this process.
– a trait that caught and kept the attention of entertainment mogul Russell Simmons. “Russell and I have developed a teacher-student relationship and he’s always worried about Spoken Word losing its integrity to the machine of the mainstream.” Black Ice coughs quickly before tossing his cigarette to the concrete along with those doubting his foundation. “But I will continue to represent Spoken Word because this is my nucleus.”
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
next morning promised to be better. and class was cool. a bit rigid - the teacher that serves as liasion to my residency, but so far so good. the kids make it all worth it. until its time to leave. and i get in an argument with an old russian dude. i didnt want to curse him out. but i came out to move my car and he wanted to argue. so i told him. get the hell away from me old man. and he walked up again and it took everything in me to not pop the trunk on his ass. he was beligerent asked me if i was blind - though he was the one with a gashed eye and he kept waving his arms frantically. "did you hear what i said, dammit! get away from the fukn car!"
i felt bad later. but by the time i got to my next destination. i was so over it. after a siesta - im ok. i have a bio to finish. and some printing of my poems for the recording this weekend. i miss talking to people. adults -- that arent pretentious. and wanting of my freekn soul...
bklyn bang'hra listening
Monday, March 27, 2006
Taalam Acey Q&A –
His stare penetrates through the obvious and settles on the rarely seen. Taalam Acey. Member of the 1999 Nuyorican Slam Team, 2000 Grand Slam Champion of London's Paddington Int'l Poetry Festival and the Washington DC Black Words Grand Slam Champion, continues to focus on the little things in life. Things like: semi-fame, small fortune and a conscious effort at raising his daughters. Through the recent release of his 3rd spoken word CD installment "Morally Bankrupt Volume Final: Mood Demistify", Taalam will defy the law of mainstream success. As the executive-producer, the artist and the distributor of his own product, Taalam is assured to make major moves, while enjoying the little things in life.
How did you start performing?
3 years ago, poetry was something I only did on Thursday. Then it became a point where I had something new every two weeks. I started slamming in late1998 at the Nuyorican, got on the 1999 Slam Team and we placed 5th in the Nationals – and that was because of time penalties. I started touring right after that and drove from Jersey to Texas and hit all the spots in between. My first California appearance was in January 2001.
Where are you touring now?
Between Baltimore, Chicago, Texas, Miami and Oakland.
How have you been able to be so successful at booking your own shows?
I get a lot of love and just keep it professional send a press kit to those who give interest. I did a lot of research on the Internet. I’ve got 15 markets between London and San Francisco/Bay Area. The Bay Area is my main market. I was recently blessed to have about 200 people waiting to hear me perform at the Black Box, Oakland, CA.
How do you feel about plagiarism?
Advice for those trying to make poetry as a career?
· Keep a schedule – everything is based around your sales
. Keep records of sales. It gives you an idea of where you need to be and are the best spots during different seasons
·If you are talking about eating from it – then you can’t be distracted. Stay organized and you have to plan, not just schedule dates.
What poets or spoken word artists move you?
Mar Hill and Narubi Selah in NJ, NER City, Aman and Seeking in Oakland, Triple Black in Chicago, Jason Carney from Austin, and Liza Jessie Peterson in NYC.
What elements make a good poet?
A good artist has found his or her own voice. When you see someone else doing someone else’s style – you can tell. It takes versatility, tempo, tone and mood. Original concepts – I think that’s the hardest. But I know someone is dope when I contort my face involuntarily (while hearing them read).
How do you feel about plagiarism?
I think the name of the game is to be prolific. You make sure when you put down the original that it will be better than anyone could ever copy. But I don’t have time to worry about that – I am working on my new CD when cats are biting off of my old CD. And to even think of who is biting means I have to look back – and it’s grow or die.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Step Into His World- One on One with Kevin Powell
by Mahogany L. Browne (2002)
He was a portrayed as the "angry Black man" on the first series of MTV's Real World. He then became a moving force of VIBE magazine's editorial staff. But his journey was only starting as a prominent figure in the literary world and as a vocalist for the Hip-Hop movement. Kevin Powell, former curator of the Brooklyn Museum of Art's Hip-Hop exhibit, has been at war for some time. Serving on the front lines of an exploited culture, Kevin Powell, the writer/poet/manager/editor, reveals the importance of his newest collective Step Into A World.
1) What stemmed Step Into A World? And how hard was it to link with all the writers?
I decided to do the anthology because I had grown tired of a lot of the bad fiction that was getting put out by major publishing houses, of all the spoken-word hustlers masquerading as poets, and in essence, disrespecting our poetic forebears like Langston Hughes, Gwendolyn Brooks and many many others; and of the too-many-to-count Hip-Hop journalists who not only do not
know anything about Hip-Hop music and culture, but even less about Black musical traditions. For example, I just read a review of Outkast's latest album in a certain magazine that prides itself on being authentic. The critic spent half the piece talking about why New York heads don't like groups from outside the N-Y like Outkast. That is very narrow to me and a waste of good space. Moreover, no where in the piece does the writer point to the fact that Hip-Hop pioneers like Afrika Bambaataa too donned costumes and was heavily influenced by the same funk flavors now being appropriated by Outkast. Those kinds of omissions say to me that the writer does not study.
So, rather than waiting for someone outside of our community to come along and document some of the best writers of our era, I decided to do it. Because of my work as a poet and a journalist, and because of my travels around the country and abroad, and because I make it a point to know as many writers as possible I literally subscribe to some 40 magazines, and try to own every
book, CD, or whatever comes from my generation of writers. It was not that difficult getting in touch with people.
2) What is the most common misconception about Hip-Hop journalists? And how has the book supported the reflection of the featured writers?
I really do not know what the most common misconception of Hip-Hop journalists is. What I do is to encourage anyone who wants to be a writer to read as much as possible, and not just stuff about Hip-Hop, or Hip-Hop magazines. To me, EVERY young writer who wants to write about Hip-Hop must read certain books so that he/she can be critically prepared:
1. Blues People by LeRoi Jones (Amiri Baraka)
2. Black Music by LeRoi Jones (Amiri Barka)
3. The Death of Rhythm and Blues by Nelson George
4. Rap Attack by David Toop
And I encourage up-and-coming Hip-Hop journalists to go back and read music criticism from DOWN BEAT in the 1980s, as well as Village Voice's and Rolling Stone's dating from the 1980's until at least the early 1990's. That kind of study gives one an appreciation for the tradition of music journalism and, I think, will reinforce the notion that writing is about the subject, NOT the writer. Too many cats who call themselves writers want to be bigger stars than the folks they are interviewing, or, it seems, some cats get off on dissin' people just to get a rep.
3) How were the writers selected for the project?
a. Technical competence, which is why a lot of the writing in the anthology is previously published material by writers who have been at it for some time.
b. As I say in the Introduction, I also looked for classic, timeless pieces. For example, Scott Poulson-Bryant's piece on Puff Daddy remains, after 7 years, the best piece I have ever read on Puffy. It captured him then and it captures him today, and will do so tomorrow. Not many writers can do that.
c. I looked for writers who were not that well known, but could write their asses off, like Cali homie Imani Tolliver. Her poem, "gin and juice," is not only brilliant, to me, but also mad courageous (it is about her being raped by her father).
4) What do you think the generation of new urban writers are bringing to the table? And what can they learn from Step Into...?
Well, I think it is wonderful that so many young people, especially young people of color, around the country want to express themselves. So what is being brought to the table is an energy, an eagerness to dialogue, something that I feel is crucial for our communities as we grapple with daily oppression and all the insanities which stem from oppression. What these writers can learn from STEP INTO A WORLD is that there are at least 105 Black writers doing some serious work on all fronts: fiction, poetry, Hip-Hop journalism, criticism, plays and screenplays, etc. And that the reward for taking your craft seriously is that you begin to have your work institutionalized in anthologies, which easily surpasses a cat saying they won a slam contest in the 1990's. No one is going to remember that. But a poem, for example, that stands up on the page will last and may impact someone who is not even born yet.
5) What is the difference between Hip-Hop journalist and entertainment journalist? Is there one?
Hip-Hop journalist is just saying you have a specialty, but it is all
entertainment in a sense, since music is entertainment. But, to me, calling oneself a Hip-Hop journalist should mean you approach the entire culture (not just the music, but all the elements) like an anthropoligist, constantly digging for truths, treasures, etc. Never satisfied with your last piece.
Always knowing there is more to learn about Hip-Hop culture. For example, I thought I knew a lot about Hip-Hop before curating the exhibit. I now know how much I did not know given all the people I've met, who have been kind enough to share with me.
6) College, age, hometown, ya know the FACTS...
College don't matter because I was kicked out. Never finished. Self-educated anyhow, which, to me, is the best education one can get. College teaches techniques, not how to live and think, critically. Bill Gates did not finish college, neither did Puff Daddy or David Geffen. Malcolm X only got to the 8th grade, as did Richard Wright and August Wilson. And James Baldwin, arguably the greatest American essayist of the past 50 years, only had a high school diploma. So, to me, it really depends on what you decide to do with your life and what steps you take to feed your mind.
Was born and raised in Jersey City, New Jersey 32 years ago, but Brooklyn, New York, which I will NEVER leave completely, is my new hometown. And I could not imagine living anywhere else these days.
7) What is your next endeavor(s)?
* A Hip-Hop photography book with legendary photographer Ernie Paniciolli, due out in the Spring 2002 (HarperCollins). I met Ernie via my curating the Hip-Hop exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum and was awe-struck by how long he has been shooting Hip-Hop-related matter (some 25 years) and how there has never
really been a Hip-Hop photography book on par with the rock and jazz ones I have seen, and own.
* A untitled second book of political and cultural essays.
* A second poetry book.
* A narrative history of Hip-Hop, which is not due for a few years, and which I am still trying to figure out how to write.
* An activist, ALWAYS, on behalf of my peeps, be in the community here in Brooklyn, on college campuses, at churches, in prisons, wherever I can be of service.
Friday, March 24, 2006
supposed to be watching the NY premiere of INSIDE MAN starring Denzel, Jodie and Clive. i say their first names like i know them right? but i wasn't there for them - i was there to rep' for my peoples Lemon and Carlos Andres Gomez! it was great. the movie was great. Carlos had a great role -- he kept cursing which was funny, cause i immediately knew "That's CARLOS! look how he said FUK!" lol and Lem was hilarious! so happy to see poets get paid to do their thing. so fukn inspired. not that i want to be on anybody's big screen, i will leave that to JP. he's the actor of the family. i just wanna write about it all...
so all of my fam is in the theatre, Sha, Day, Murph, Bonsu, Malcom, Juba -- the whole magazine writing crew. and i got homesick, that quick. i think i would've started crying if he didnt shove a box of rasinets in my hand. i got homesick for the life of true friendship. JP is one in a million and in poetry that's one in two million. i mean, i love poetry. but the politics. the sometimey-ness. that bullshyt is for the birds! i miss knowing that i was loved from my peers regardless of the slam score. regardless of the stage time. regardless of the radio commercials that they believe i shouldn't perform, the tv show that they think i didnt deserve and the touring that they want for themselves. i miss the mutual respect that never wavers, only deepens for an associate.
i've never had to wander who had my back so much in my life. NEVER. and now, i feel like a sitting duck. and when you are in the public, its very much like that. now don't be fooled. the magazine industry has more bullshyt than a lil! however, the core group - the 12 people i called my fam, was indestructabile. we had our fights. not all of us get along separately. but we make it happen. because we are all we have. and the world is much uglier outside of our personality clashing. we know this. so we go the hell over it. but my poetry crew cant seem to find that balance. my crew is a two person crew. and in a genre that's all about COMMUNITY? huff, just gets a bit depressing, that's all.
but there are people that i might every now and again that challenge the current climate of poetry bullshyt. and they are beautiful in their own rite. they are consistent and real and so appreciated. i dont burden them with my life, as thats a tough one to carry, but i love them for being them. for being open to friends in poetry, in life. besides the stanzas and the shine. i can only hope we'd be great friends without the stage lights shining so brightly. and i actually stopped allowing poetry friends into my heart. too many have proven that they are out for something more than my simple friendship can offer. but the ones i got before the barrier came up full force, i am grateful for.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
not doing enough. not accomplishing enough. having all the tools to make it happen - but running out of steam in the process.
i think thats why i run myself into the ground. why i wake early and stay late. why my personal life will always suffer -- too much work to do, too little time!
i think i should look into getting hypnotized. something extreme and alternative. something that will make it all make sense. it seems like i got this thing down packed, right? life is crazy demanding and hard and easy and wierd and im just trying to leave a legacy. leave something for amari that wasnt left for me. not even a silver spoon - but some fight. some drive. maybe just a spoon that wont break or tarnish. that will be waiting to show her and my grandkids the way.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
a beautiful day! IM so inspired it hurts. i had a wonderful class. i have a wonderful family (when they arent driving me crazy) and today - i can feel
it all warm and squishy under my earth.
that was a metaphor.
i was teaching 3rd graders today. and they make you want to be happy.
when they aren't acting like lil' bad asses! but that said -- it was great.
they were great. i am a great well of well wishes.
that was an alliteration.
those are a couple of lessons that i've been teaching. and it doesn't matter
that brooklyn is being gentrified in front of my eyes. i am happy. and i don't
care if the little 9 year old in a stroller has his eyes on my lemon poppyseed
muffin at my favorite bklyn coffee shop. he can't have it! it's mine. *smile*
that would be sarcasm.
are you insane, i hear you thinking this. no. im not. im happy. and nothing
can take that away -- atleast not just yet. give me a couple of minutes. im sure
reality will hit me square between the eyes (idiom) and then you will sit there, wondering what the hell happened to me. did one fly over the cucko's nest (cliche) or am i just having a mental breakdown (quite likely).
don't fret. i am writing. i am producing work. i am releasing the book sooner than you think, i am recording the cd at the end of the month, i am loved, in love, loving others -- with purpose. i love you. im sorry. you deserve better. we are alike in too many ways. i am only a splinter of God. that is the name of my new something -- i haven't decided where it will go. but i have decided it will stay near me. near me. i allow you to be close.
but not too close. leeches still lurk the waters, i see you -- but i love you anyway. love you enough to let you live. look at me. all happy n shyt. feel'n fly in my jeans (lost 5 pounds)...
feel'n fly in bklyn.
Monday, March 20, 2006
after another convo with my homegirl
"they dont respect the power they have over our hearts"...
*look. this isnt a battle of the sexist. or a moment for you to prove me wrong and say "but you have a boyfriend, you believe in love" n shyt. this is a moment of rebirth. of acknowledging the wrong - we already live thru the right. don't go bizerk on me now. im just getting started. first revolution starts at home. love is real. i believe in love. i believe in love. i love men - but hate the shyt that comes along with the dating games.
you know what moves me? commitement. honesty. loyalty. security. knowing. knowing of self is a sexy attribute. fearlessness is also beautiful. it is few men that know what they want and when they get it arent afraid by the pureness of it.
** and yea, there are women who fuk up to... i know, i know, i know. but i don't date women. so i guess that's not the focal point here - now is it!?
we wrestle mountains
crash rocks into skulls
forget human frailty
lose track of sighs
in between misunderstandings
i don't think you know me
"you can't possibly believe that"
thinks my heart
all red and pain and beautifully broken
since when the sun start rising on yo side
bedsheet bitch got this world cracked
tricky plum fingers itch the best parts
my skin crawls from the idea of you
touching h i m
aged stinky cheese smells real
pungent aromas cutting flighty
scents of air
leave a mark - I WAS HERE
grows more mysterious, this stench
minute to hour to years passed
age should be the reason one learns
and broken hearts find mending
in old warehouse dancefloors
grinding failures to roots reggae
thighs tighten and tremble
bass beats against the neck
before climbing into her empty spaces
follow his lead
follow his lead
and c h a n t
with a tongue foreign
outside of her dreams
boys kicking hearts like stones
never see the beauty of a polished shell
worn out sole spurting at anything round
she be a vessel to the best parts of God
sheltered from the dirty hands
strokeing her shine for reflection
coal don't turn into diamonds so easy
and everyone ain't ready for saving
shell-shocked she dance to the worst part
of the song
this practice keeps her honest
humming flawlessly all the while
Saturday, March 18, 2006
so little time
working has its perks -- but then, it doesnt...
had two classes and a field trip.
had a photoshoot. missed it.
saturdays are meant to sleep in - im sure of this.
last night's features were cool. didnt have time to have fun.
featured in bklyn @ 845pm. then again @ 10pm in the city.
1st nuyorican feature. that's huge! didn't even realize i went over by 15 minutes
my apologies to DIVAS shebanchrista! :(
couldnt even eat dinner. too tired. slept until americasnexttopmodel
ive been missing them courtesy of hosting duties on wednesday
but -- i was able to work 90% new material. makes me happy
to see the reaction from the people... all love - - all good. sold outta books
gotta get new joints. like NOW
maybe tomorrow... back to the grindstone on monday.
1doctor's appointment (foot still in fuk up my walk mode)
1 class on monday, tues, 2 classes on wednesday & hosting, 1 on thursday, friday off...
breathe until then
Friday, March 17, 2006
cause ya'll don't believe me or something... here is the interview with FLAV on the TOM JOYNER SHOW!
http://mmslb.eonstreams.com/b/reach...6/FLAVAFLAV.wma --> / message -->"
NEW YORK breaks it down... yes, i have her blog saved on my myspace account. so what? i aint got no damn life!
this has been a long time coming. so i just wanna get it out there before i hurt someone's feelings.
SLAM is not the beginning or the end of the world! it just isn't. your poem may be good - but that doesn't mean its great! and your poem may be shyt -- but your performance just outshined the shady ish that is your POEM.
it blows my mind when people lose their mind in a slam all because they didn't get the score they THINK they deserved. if we determined our worth by slam scores -- alot of poets, real poets, would be ashes right now.
so where is this coming from MO, i hear you asking. last wednesday i was hosting the nuyo and this young man was so upset with his score that he started packing his ish loudly to show distaste for the judges. unfortunately, he chose to do this in the middle of another poet's performance.
i mean really homeboy. is it that serious? not only did he make a scene -- but he thought speaking to everyone on his way OUT was a class act exit. it wasn't. and it burns me to the core when poets lose they hometraining over some slam shyt.
SLAM is supposed to be used as a platform to spit to an audience that may never be situated in that setting again. open mics usually have a specific demographic -- so where else will you find your voice for the universal audience? take advantage and take the scores with a grain of salt. because bad sportsmanship is just a scar on the face of any poets work.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
is not the fact that Hoopz won (and i so called that one for the stacey dash look a like)
or the fact that THE L WORD has killed off DANA (which i sooo did not expect)
or the fact that we had such an incredible show (which ran over courtesy of Christa & Sheba's savor faire)
or the fact that we ran to the wrong airport (another beautiful Christa moment)
or the fact that my daughter is now rolling her eyes at warped speed because she thinks she's
-- none of this matters, when my cousin is dealing with the death of her daughter's father. shot in the head 7 times and left for dead in his own home, he will never see lil' 3 year old Nora wear a cap n gown for graduation or her wedding dress. he will miss the prom and the first born. the first heartbreak and the first late night phonecall. he won't be able to protect her from the boy he used to be or the man he later became. and when phonecalls about another black man being murdered reach me in my semi-lucid state -- i have to apologize for my vanity.
i apologize for my self-centeredness.
bklyn contemplation -- oakland prayers
Sunday, March 12, 2006
today is my day off.
im not even supposed to be writing this now
but i want ya ll to know the show was SOLD OUT! (again)
the features were phenomenal (again)
and somehow, we didnt sleep til 622am after it was all said and done.
so with that. im going to chill, watch flavor of love, l word and eat
in between the toothache (yes, the temporary filling is failing)...
in a minute
Friday, March 10, 2006
im running on adrenaline ya'll. forgive the new design, the comment board doesn't really work like i'm used to -- but give me an "E" for effort, eh?
the women's show is driving me mad. in a good way. i have never been able to host such wonderful women all on one stage and that excites me. excites me to the point that i've made deals with artists/students with little to no money just to get them in the building so they can witness the miracle! bassey ikpi of def poetry (4x mutha, what?) and def broadway, queen sheba (as seen on Showtime @ The Apollo), Christa Bell (Grand Slam Champ of Seattle) & Dasha Kelly (slammistress of Milwaukee & Author).
seriously, these women make me want to be a better person, mother, artist, performer and friend. this was my update post for what's been happening -- but that can happen later. this is the now.
217 east 42nd Street (between 2/3rd Ave)
Doors open @ 945pm!
$10 if you say you read this (usually 15 @ the door)!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
a new day
a new life for me,
it's a new dawn
a new day
a new life for me
and i'm feeling good
- nina simone
im feeling not so good. tried to OD on nyquil last night and it just kept me waking up - which is wierd. and the itchy throat thing is still there. but i did something new to the blog. just a test, i guess. took amari to chess lessons yesterday but couldnt figure out anything to keep my head from exploding so i was happy to return home. he made me tea. and not in that order. but i am optimistic.
pray the show goes well this weekend. after that, i think i will pass out something lovely on sunday.
damn, i forgot -- we have tickets for the ballet. but my bed calling me makes it hard 2 focus on anything other than getting over this sic ish.
two classes, a doctor's appointment and supply shopping list, huff. pray fa me
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
i just ate the last lemon poppyseed muffin that was left at the local bakery/coffeeshop. it was really good. but then i became sick to my stomach. because it was so good, so, that i was licking my fingers like a damn mutt. i felt blah. then on came the commercial for losing weight. like i haven't had my share of diet pills already.
i swear, i'm sure that's why i have those bad cramps in my side. and i promised him that i wouldnt take them anymore because they make me super agitated and mean and sometimes, my stomach hurts. but - atleast i had a handle on my weight. so now, im looking at this gym membership bill that i've paid up to 6 months. i've went for 1 month total. my foot is still jacked and it makes it hard to wear shoes, let alone workout in a pair of sneakers!
so i feel like trying farenheit, relacore & that machine that texas ranger chuck norris endorses... hell anything. i gotta lose 50 pounds. and sex ain't cutting the fat quick enough.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Friday, March 03, 2006
there is a time when you have to face them.
in yourself, in your friends - it's the hardest part of being an
entertainer. how do you fight the power enough to stay yourself
and still have an image that reaches the masses.
how do you speak about the truth and be the truth - even when most of us are still just a work in progress.
i'm at a lost of words. i have to figure out how this makes sense in my life. how it makes sense in my world of art. i have such a huge grudge (still working thru that resolution) when it comes to artists being one person on stage and another off stage, specifically poets.
i am now finding out - this can be likened to storytelling for most of the big timers. that poem they wrote about their son - just a story; that poem they wrote about their wife dying or cheating or leaving them - just a story; that poem about the kids that changed their life after one life or death conversation - just a story; that poem about uplifting women - a story; or that poem about being a certain type of person with morals n shyt - just a story.
and the artform seems tainted. though they've done NOTHING wrong. they were true to the art. the metaphors had clarity, the similes in place, the structure immaculate - so why am i confused?
we are truth seekers, or so i thought.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
not much on my agenda today, except a workshop that i will have to postpone
considering they have warned the snow to resemble the blizzard by noon
not excited about dat der...
book covers coming together lovely.
new websites coming together even lovelier
9am - meet up with Tina to snatch up pix from the Jam On It, last week.
930 - swing coffee and car towards bedstuy to drop her off and head to post office
10am - wait in line @ the worst post office on the planet
1020 - still waiting
1023 - still waiting as they search for my new meshell ndgecello package
1035 - head to bank cash check
11am - pick up laundry
1110 - wait for the truck to return to the station with my laundry
1113 - tired of waiting. reschedule pick up
1115 - head to williamsburg bridge to drop off keys to theatre
12pm - wait for contract for new MARCH 11th SHOW
1215 - head back to the Lower East Side for UW workshop
1217 - stop @ starbucks for second cup of the day. and a bathroom break
1245 - walk with leftover coffee to class.
1pm - trick students into writing an epistle
2pm - head to Bensonhurst for 2 - 1hour workshops...
227 - get lost on Brooklyn Queens Expressway
235 - make it to the school, after calling into headquarters
255 - watch kids swarm around the lunchroom. its scary. elementary school looked so different.
4pm - class isn't over. but the memory game definitely took up 20 well-needed minutes
445 - take kids downstairs. i hate to have their parents waiting.
5pm - beg the guy to snatch up amari. bless his heart
530 - BQE traffic. fukfartheadcraP
550 - williamsburg bklyn. head to KFC for dinner, per his request
620 - bring up food. grub on spicy wings, biscuits and mashed potatoes
7pm - pack up amari and head to southpaw
715 - pick up Tina for club shots and laughter
730 - drop amari off at god sister's
8pm - too early for soundcheck.
801 - head to ozzie's for coffee and convo
850 - too much bonding is bad for someone else's health. i will stab someone for ya T!
9pm - doors open
905 - name is not at door, gasp. loslito to the rescue
910 - meet bands, get bio information, find a stool @ the bar.
915 - drink oj and cranberry courtesy of TeeTee
930 - show starts
120oam - i perform with the ill band REBIRTH
1207 - homeward bound
tomorrow -- to be continued