I should be upset by this.
But, you know what?
Go ahead.
Thin the herd.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
BTW: Inauguration
Yes, I was there.
No, I don't feel as bad about missing the MMM now.
For all of the traffic, misdirections, and lack of facilities, I wish I could do it once a year.
Perhaps I'll settle for again in 4.
We'll see.
No, I don't feel as bad about missing the MMM now.
For all of the traffic, misdirections, and lack of facilities, I wish I could do it once a year.
Perhaps I'll settle for again in 4.
We'll see.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
"I guess I have a lot of borderline health...
...disorders that limit me politically when it comes to eating."
Joyce from American Splendor
(the film)
(which I am currently viewing)
Joyce from American Splendor
(the film)
(which I am currently viewing)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
in roughly 10 mins,
i'll be heading south to the 44th president's inauguration.
not sure what will happen, or how to feel....but i pray we all have the opportunity to wax ad nauseum after the day is done...
inshallah.
Friday, January 16, 2009
'Toya Frazier
It's been a loooooooooooooooooooooooong time since I've seen her. I wish that I'd seen her since she grew up and got married (lil' 'Toya?!?!?!).
Growing up she was the annoying little sister in the neighborhood*. Though I never got to see her as a woman, I'm glad we at least had some fun playing basketball.
May the Spirit conduct you toward heaven...
*I was likely the annoying little brother, but she was younger than the rest of us. Figuring out socialization around the big kids can be challenging. Also, I don't think the above conveys just how much I wish I'd gotten to see her grown up. I think the basketball years started around my junior year of HS. She'd grown out of the awkward toddling years. I'm still annoying - ed. 4/7/'26
Bagger Vance -
do watch if you still need an example to explain the magical negro,
or if you want to see proof that, if you wrote it for Morgan Freeman, only Morgan Freeman can pull it off.
Otherwise, don't.
or if you want to see proof that, if you wrote it for Morgan Freeman, only Morgan Freeman can pull it off.
Otherwise, don't.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, January 09, 2009
(sometime after 3:30a)
(sits on floor in front of radiator under picture large window, arms outstretched, hands on cold glass)
"Our father, which art in heaven,
Hallowed be they name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors... and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever...
God, I'm asking for your help with the usual...asking for help with money.
(thinks)
Even though...even though -
(sighs, feels strong heat on his face; it seems to radiate up tangibly - billowing the hairs on his arms as it dissipates up into the cold above him; senses the metaphorical separation/difference of earth/heaven)
He continues to talk to God. He thinks, then he catches himself, forces himself to speak the words, as though he's realizing that saying them out loud forces him to deal with their truth.
He speaks....and comes to a realization, an epiphany...an honesty. It is scary. In the midst of the converstation with God he begins to think that he should be writing this - then relents. He wonders if tapping this out on a computer will relieve the words of their power, save him from the responsibility of realization.
As he does this, his thoughts begin to muddy...connection getting lost. He decides to try to write using the portable device he's playing music through (to aid focus, ironically) with the hope that he can channel the connection through the writing -> pray via performance. He struggles trying to maintain the connection while recollecting words. He fails.
He goes back to his computer. He turns it on. He sits, trying to remember the exchange.
(sighs)
...
He thinks about how in our times of need, we run to God begging....usually for the same thing, like children. He thinks about how told God that he'd asked in the past for this exact, same thing...
About how he, in that moment, questioned whether he meant it before - no - whether he truly believed that he would receive what he has asked for; if that's why he didn't receive it.
He remembers that, at the window, he considered how people, in those moments of desperation, will say all the things they'll do, change their lives, "do better"....
He remembers that it struck him how, when asking God for anything now, he just asks and concentrates on the idea of belief, yet doesn't deal with the idea of changing his personal protocol to do it. He remembers that the feeling in his body when he realized that he could not bring himself to say, "I will dedicate myself to you, God". He can't bring himself to say it, even to himself in his own head, let alone out loud where the universe can hear it.
He can't do it - because then he will be bound by the truth of it. He will be held to the responsibility of that dedication. He feared it. He remembers thinking to himself that, maybe this inability to dedicate to God is the reason he can no longer dedicate himself in a relationship...to a person.
Yet, when he thought about writing this realization instead of praying it, he resisted, not wanting to separate the words from their power. So what stopped him?
He stops.
Breathes.
Wonders what it means.
Wonders if he will ever grow up,
cease being fearful.
(wonders if he should go back and try to have another
talk with God)
"Our father, which art in heaven,
Hallowed be they name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors... and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever...
God, I'm asking for your help with the usual...asking for help with money.
(thinks)
Even though...even though -
(sighs, feels strong heat on his face; it seems to radiate up tangibly - billowing the hairs on his arms as it dissipates up into the cold above him; senses the metaphorical separation/difference of earth/heaven)
He continues to talk to God. He thinks, then he catches himself, forces himself to speak the words, as though he's realizing that saying them out loud forces him to deal with their truth.
He speaks....and comes to a realization, an epiphany...an honesty. It is scary. In the midst of the converstation with God he begins to think that he should be writing this - then relents. He wonders if tapping this out on a computer will relieve the words of their power, save him from the responsibility of realization.
As he does this, his thoughts begin to muddy...connection getting lost. He decides to try to write using the portable device he's playing music through (to aid focus, ironically) with the hope that he can channel the connection through the writing -> pray via performance. He struggles trying to maintain the connection while recollecting words. He fails.
He goes back to his computer. He turns it on. He sits, trying to remember the exchange.
(sighs)
...
He thinks about how in our times of need, we run to God begging....usually for the same thing, like children. He thinks about how told God that he'd asked in the past for this exact, same thing...
About how he, in that moment, questioned whether he meant it before - no - whether he truly believed that he would receive what he has asked for; if that's why he didn't receive it.
He remembers that, at the window, he considered how people, in those moments of desperation, will say all the things they'll do, change their lives, "do better"....
He remembers that it struck him how, when asking God for anything now, he just asks and concentrates on the idea of belief, yet doesn't deal with the idea of changing his personal protocol to do it. He remembers that the feeling in his body when he realized that he could not bring himself to say, "I will dedicate myself to you, God". He can't bring himself to say it, even to himself in his own head, let alone out loud where the universe can hear it.
He can't do it - because then he will be bound by the truth of it. He will be held to the responsibility of that dedication. He feared it. He remembers thinking to himself that, maybe this inability to dedicate to God is the reason he can no longer dedicate himself in a relationship...to a person.
Yet, when he thought about writing this realization instead of praying it, he resisted, not wanting to separate the words from their power. So what stopped him?
He stops.
Breathes.
Wonders what it means.
Wonders if he will ever grow up,
cease being fearful.
(wonders if he should go back and try to have another
talk with God)
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Monday, January 05, 2009
Friday, January 02, 2009
"Leroy" & Alabama vs. GSU
Breaking the Huddle: Integration
The best jokes are always anecdotal.
In the section about Wilbur Hackett, Jr.'s first game against the Univ. of Mississippi, Hackett's father recounts hearing "Leroy" used as a seemingly pejorative term for his son. I've seen this doc before, but it was on this second viewing that I was reminded that I'd heard a classmate use the name in reference to our Black classmate while in grammar school. I don't know how he came upon it. It's use wasn't malicious, and she didn't receive it that way. It was a joke between them, I thought...or perhaps he was calling her by her father's name, which is something we did as children. She is one of the those member of Black Gen X who was blessed with a name beginning in "La", so I thought it might have been the similarity to "Le".
But having just seen this program now makes me wonder. If I ever have the chance to speak to him again, I hope I remember to ask what the origin of that was.
A later story in the show is about USC's first game against the then still segregated Univ. of Alabama. One interviewee contributes that when USC's Black players led the team out onto the field, he heard an attendee remark:
I thought we were playing some team from California. That's Grambling!
But having just seen this program now makes me wonder. If I ever have the chance to speak to him again, I hope I remember to ask what the origin of that was.
A later story in the show is about USC's first game against the then still segregated Univ. of Alabama. One interviewee contributes that when USC's Black players led the team out onto the field, he heard an attendee remark:
I thought we were playing some team from California. That's Grambling!
The best jokes are always anecdotal.
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