waited too long to get to new york
waited too long to sign with commercial agent
now agency doesn't want to sign any new people
"check back in a couple of months"
the beast strikes and wounds
the beast is thee, yon procrastinator...
the beast is thee.
Monday, June 21, 2004
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
mmmm...nature
I was headed home and I turned around on 290E to head back west toward the right turn onto Ridgepoint. After I made the turn, I saw a silhouette of a dog crossing over the highway. It moved really smoothly and had a real small waist. I thought it was a fox, but I figured it would be gone before I had a chance to see if it was wild or just a dog.
I turned right onto Ridgepoint and looked to my right and was able to make it out; still on the hill next to the street. I could make out the shape of the face. The snout was small, and I figured one of the foxes from St. Edward's made its way north. It got in some light and I saw it well enough to see that it was too big and the wrong color to be a fox. I pulled onto the curb to try to get it with my headlights. I figured it would run but it didn't. It paused and looked back at me long enough for me decide that it was a coyote. At first I thought I'd gotten really lucky and seen a wolf, but it was too small. A coyote is rare enough though. Only the second I've ever seen.
Look at me appreciating suburban wildlife.
Will women dig that?
I turned right onto Ridgepoint and looked to my right and was able to make it out; still on the hill next to the street. I could make out the shape of the face. The snout was small, and I figured one of the foxes from St. Edward's made its way north. It got in some light and I saw it well enough to see that it was too big and the wrong color to be a fox. I pulled onto the curb to try to get it with my headlights. I figured it would run but it didn't. It paused and looked back at me long enough for me decide that it was a coyote. At first I thought I'd gotten really lucky and seen a wolf, but it was too small. A coyote is rare enough though. Only the second I've ever seen.
Look at me appreciating suburban wildlife.
Will women dig that?
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
The long overdue really long wedding post
Wow, it's only been eight days since my last post - I'm getting better. In the spirit of redemption, it's time to recap Knighten matrimonial hi-jinx that I've been meaning to report on for some time no.
SO, back in January, my man K. Knighten and his fee-ahn-say L. finally got married. I'd been told that I was supposed to be in the wedding, and I wasn't getting any work done on my thesis, so I went ahead and ventured to Houston. My first stop was my lodgings for the week: Asia's house.
Aw-ight, now, you know how you figure that you'll always be in an apartment until that second child comes along. Well, my man Asia kinda jumped a few steps ahead (and, to be honest is make a sound financial investment). He went and got this FLYYYYYYY crib in Katy. Three bedrooms, an office, BIG den, big kitchen, two car garage (fuh them late-night visitorinas?), juss alla dat. The joint’s just fly. I plan to host at least one get together there before I move out of Texas. Just dope. Anyway…
First wedding event: picking up the tux. Not much to say here, just that Al’s Tuxedo needed to have their @$$es kicked for being closed on New Year’s Day. And them punks expensive – and you don't even get to keep the tie or anything. I ever get married, my groomsman’ll be wearing DryFit™ & Gazelles.
The wedding was Jan, 3 so we had the bachelor get-together that Thursday before. We did that at this Jazz joint in downtown called the Red Cat. That was cool. We were there for a while. All night. Like 6 hours. We got receipts.
Third wedding event: going BACK to Al’s Tuxedo at like 10 in the morning that Friday to pick up the tux. I got there before the chumps were even open. So, I walked around the Galleria. They've got like, a whole new wing in that joint. They've also got this water sculpture deal that shoots water from the ceiling to a pool below. It sounds crazy. It looks crazy. Go check dat out.
Fourth wedding event: wedding rehearsal. Now, Friday morning before getting up to go get the tux, I had the inkling that I should get cute, break out the khakis and all. However, I thought twice and decided to go with the Standard cWj Uniform (or SCU): windpants, crew neck and kicks – this come would come back to haunt me. So, Friday around six I show up at the church downtown (after getting some straight CRAZY news from a friend of mine – dass anutha post). We did the rehearsal thang and I was all happy that the bridesmaid I got paired with was cute (none of ‘em were ugly, but I got to look out fuh the kid, nahmean?). So we did that and iss time to go to the “rehearsal dinner”. Nobody bothered to tell me, however, that there's a dress code for this thang. Plus it’s, like at a country club. So, Knighten’s gotta go to his house and says he'll bring me something. So we go there and I'm waiting in the car for some “good clothes” like a child. Eventually we all get in and the eating commences. What ELSE I'd not been informed of, is that this is like a programmed event. So, we eat a while and Keith gets up and starts talking and introducing everybody, and Linda introduced some of her people, and gifts were given out, and Linda’s mama started crying, and she started crying, and I had to get up run MY yack. At the end of it all, we finally left at like 11:30. Bear in mind that I've been up since the early morn. By the time we left, it was much time to go, and all them bride’s maids was makin' me feel all needy. I finally got back to my truck at the church (forgot to mention that the rehearsal reception was 20 miles away from the reception). I stopped at Chacho’s and went to Asia’s crib and knocked out.
Event #5: THE WEDDING
So, I'm a groomsman, right? Which meant that I had to be at K.’s house (in Galena Park – 40 minutes from Asia’s) by 9:30a. I said screw it and went early, got dressed there. That meant I left at about 7:30a. Now, for normal people this prolly wouldn't be a big deal. But I'm a grad student. In ACTING. Me and early just don't match. The only time I see anything that even looks like dawn is when I'm getting ready to lay it down to the gentle glow of Clifford the Big Red Dog at 5a.
So we get to the house and get dressed and I look at myself in the tux and think the same thing I thought when I tried it on in the sto': fitted pants make my head look big. Dressed and ready, I am now officially at the beckon call of the groom. First assignment: flowers. Now, the night before while watching the bridegroom/groomsman segment of the procession, I got the feeling like we should be giving them something. The bride and her mother had about 15 bouquets between them by now, and there just seemed like there needed to be at least a couple of buds tossed the ladies’ way. So, I got the flowers (which took a while for me to explain to these dudes to trim the stems, then trim the stems some more, and not to forget to trim the thorns. At least I got to watch the train roll down Fannin. So K calls me like “where you at” and I'm like “doing your bidding, punk back up”. I get back to the church and after de-thorning the roses and trimming the ones destined for the maids some more we were ready. Well, let me clarify: the groom and his men were ready. In traditional wedding fashion, we were waiting for the bride and crew. It seems they left without the veil and had to go back. From what I heard Linda’s mom was chewing them out or something. I now realize the upside of not getting to keep my tux: not having to deal directly with the bride’s affairs. Women getting married or involved in a wedding all seem to go nuts about the same time.
So the wedding went down, and I must say that the service was actually the exact right amount of time. We went in, did our thang, and went out. Now I had my big job for the day: MC’ing the reception….oh, !$#!@#$…
So I get to the reception hall (yet another country club way out in the suburb of Whoville) at about 2:30p. Somehow or another, it wasn't until that moment that it occurred to me that I had six more hours to go before the end of the deal. So we get the thing started, and I finally got the program and to be completely honest didn't really know WHAT the hell was supposed to be going on. The first thing up was the introduction of the people sitting up front at the “wedding table”. Which was cool, except I only knew like two people up there. So I'm like “can I get a list” and Knighten’s pops (Eddie!) was running around trying to get that. SO, if I haven't mentioned it yet, the bride is Nigerian. Which means her people are Nigerian. When I got the list of the people at the table, I couldn't make out some of the handwriting, which I usually could've dealt with, but with the Nigerian names I really needed to be able to make the letters out. So I ask Eddie what some a couple of the names are. So he takes the list and calls me over to a couple of the Nigerian women there who proceed to try to tell me how to pronounce the names. Which meant that I had to explain to them that I wasn't asking for pronunciations – I JUST COULDN'T READ EDDIE’S NERVOUS CHIKIN SCRATCH. So we finally got past that and go things moving. We even managed to get through the scariness of trying to organize this room of several hundred Negroes from all over the world through the buffet line (and you know hedz was like TRYING to eat).
After we got through the major formal parts of the program and K and his bride went and did their costume change (out of the wedding stuff into traditional Nigerian gear), I finally noticed that the majority of the people there were Nigerian. For some reason I assumed that the Knighten’s being from Texas would dominate. I forgot that we were in Houston, and the Nigerians exist there in hearty numbers and will straight bring the numberage at a family function. We were supposed to do dances with the family then have an open dance floor later, but during the bride dancing with her mother, the Ashobi women (kinda like traditional bridal support) came up and started doing this where they wipe a celebrants face with dollar bills. Next thing other people were coming up. Before too long, ALL the Nigerians were on the floor and had pretty much took over. It didn't help that the DJ was Nigerian and was eggin’ it on. I just let ‘em go ‘cuz I wasn't even trying to break that up. Later on I got run up on by some of Linda’s uncles telling me to have a dance for her parents. Then they did this thing where they all got around him and started tossing money at him. At this point I'm like DAG, what I got to do to get in the middle of summa this money toss stuff. You know, hey, I got people in Nigeria, too!!
So the Nigerians ran the dance floor after that until the end. I finally sat down for the first time in about five hours and even managed to chew on some chicken breast for a minute.
I must say that was the LONGEST day of my life. But it was probably one of the more fun, too.
Some things learned:
Go ahead and let heads eat first thing at the reception.
Change out of your rental shoes if you've got to walk around a lot (still got bruises from the tongue of them damn shoes).
Let know the bridesmaids know if you're going to give them flowers. I thought it would be cool if we surprised them, I think it just ended up with them looking at us like we were crazy while we tired to give them the flower before they crossed to their side of the isle. It was obvious they were nervous and seemingly abit stressed….that ish was funny.
Invite Uncle Sam to as many events as possible.
Nigerian women, even if they actually think your jokes are funny, will do nothing but scowl at a wedding if they are doing anything but spectating. This may apply to other functions, but I'm a little too intimidated to investigate.
Nigerians will, given the smallest opening, take over your sh!t.
And that ain't necessarily a bad thing.
Peace,
theweddingEmcee
SO, back in January, my man K. Knighten and his fee-ahn-say L. finally got married. I'd been told that I was supposed to be in the wedding, and I wasn't getting any work done on my thesis, so I went ahead and ventured to Houston. My first stop was my lodgings for the week: Asia's house.
Aw-ight, now, you know how you figure that you'll always be in an apartment until that second child comes along. Well, my man Asia kinda jumped a few steps ahead (and, to be honest is make a sound financial investment). He went and got this FLYYYYYYY crib in Katy. Three bedrooms, an office, BIG den, big kitchen, two car garage (fuh them late-night visitorinas?), juss alla dat. The joint’s just fly. I plan to host at least one get together there before I move out of Texas. Just dope. Anyway…
First wedding event: picking up the tux. Not much to say here, just that Al’s Tuxedo needed to have their @$$es kicked for being closed on New Year’s Day. And them punks expensive – and you don't even get to keep the tie or anything. I ever get married, my groomsman’ll be wearing DryFit™ & Gazelles.
The wedding was Jan, 3 so we had the bachelor get-together that Thursday before. We did that at this Jazz joint in downtown called the Red Cat. That was cool. We were there for a while. All night. Like 6 hours. We got receipts.
Third wedding event: going BACK to Al’s Tuxedo at like 10 in the morning that Friday to pick up the tux. I got there before the chumps were even open. So, I walked around the Galleria. They've got like, a whole new wing in that joint. They've also got this water sculpture deal that shoots water from the ceiling to a pool below. It sounds crazy. It looks crazy. Go check dat out.
Fourth wedding event: wedding rehearsal. Now, Friday morning before getting up to go get the tux, I had the inkling that I should get cute, break out the khakis and all. However, I thought twice and decided to go with the Standard cWj Uniform (or SCU): windpants, crew neck and kicks – this come would come back to haunt me. So, Friday around six I show up at the church downtown (after getting some straight CRAZY news from a friend of mine – dass anutha post). We did the rehearsal thang and I was all happy that the bridesmaid I got paired with was cute (none of ‘em were ugly, but I got to look out fuh the kid, nahmean?). So we did that and iss time to go to the “rehearsal dinner”. Nobody bothered to tell me, however, that there's a dress code for this thang. Plus it’s, like at a country club. So, Knighten’s gotta go to his house and says he'll bring me something. So we go there and I'm waiting in the car for some “good clothes” like a child. Eventually we all get in and the eating commences. What ELSE I'd not been informed of, is that this is like a programmed event. So, we eat a while and Keith gets up and starts talking and introducing everybody, and Linda introduced some of her people, and gifts were given out, and Linda’s mama started crying, and she started crying, and I had to get up run MY yack. At the end of it all, we finally left at like 11:30. Bear in mind that I've been up since the early morn. By the time we left, it was much time to go, and all them bride’s maids was makin' me feel all needy. I finally got back to my truck at the church (forgot to mention that the rehearsal reception was 20 miles away from the reception). I stopped at Chacho’s and went to Asia’s crib and knocked out.
Event #5: THE WEDDING
So, I'm a groomsman, right? Which meant that I had to be at K.’s house (in Galena Park – 40 minutes from Asia’s) by 9:30a. I said screw it and went early, got dressed there. That meant I left at about 7:30a. Now, for normal people this prolly wouldn't be a big deal. But I'm a grad student. In ACTING. Me and early just don't match. The only time I see anything that even looks like dawn is when I'm getting ready to lay it down to the gentle glow of Clifford the Big Red Dog at 5a.
So we get to the house and get dressed and I look at myself in the tux and think the same thing I thought when I tried it on in the sto': fitted pants make my head look big. Dressed and ready, I am now officially at the beckon call of the groom. First assignment: flowers. Now, the night before while watching the bridegroom/groomsman segment of the procession, I got the feeling like we should be giving them something. The bride and her mother had about 15 bouquets between them by now, and there just seemed like there needed to be at least a couple of buds tossed the ladies’ way. So, I got the flowers (which took a while for me to explain to these dudes to trim the stems, then trim the stems some more, and not to forget to trim the thorns. At least I got to watch the train roll down Fannin. So K calls me like “where you at” and I'm like “doing your bidding, punk back up”. I get back to the church and after de-thorning the roses and trimming the ones destined for the maids some more we were ready. Well, let me clarify: the groom and his men were ready. In traditional wedding fashion, we were waiting for the bride and crew. It seems they left without the veil and had to go back. From what I heard Linda’s mom was chewing them out or something. I now realize the upside of not getting to keep my tux: not having to deal directly with the bride’s affairs. Women getting married or involved in a wedding all seem to go nuts about the same time.
So the wedding went down, and I must say that the service was actually the exact right amount of time. We went in, did our thang, and went out. Now I had my big job for the day: MC’ing the reception….oh, !$#!@#$…
So I get to the reception hall (yet another country club way out in the suburb of Whoville) at about 2:30p. Somehow or another, it wasn't until that moment that it occurred to me that I had six more hours to go before the end of the deal. So we get the thing started, and I finally got the program and to be completely honest didn't really know WHAT the hell was supposed to be going on. The first thing up was the introduction of the people sitting up front at the “wedding table”. Which was cool, except I only knew like two people up there. So I'm like “can I get a list” and Knighten’s pops (Eddie!) was running around trying to get that. SO, if I haven't mentioned it yet, the bride is Nigerian. Which means her people are Nigerian. When I got the list of the people at the table, I couldn't make out some of the handwriting, which I usually could've dealt with, but with the Nigerian names I really needed to be able to make the letters out. So I ask Eddie what some a couple of the names are. So he takes the list and calls me over to a couple of the Nigerian women there who proceed to try to tell me how to pronounce the names. Which meant that I had to explain to them that I wasn't asking for pronunciations – I JUST COULDN'T READ EDDIE’S NERVOUS CHIKIN SCRATCH. So we finally got past that and go things moving. We even managed to get through the scariness of trying to organize this room of several hundred Negroes from all over the world through the buffet line (and you know hedz was like TRYING to eat).
After we got through the major formal parts of the program and K and his bride went and did their costume change (out of the wedding stuff into traditional Nigerian gear), I finally noticed that the majority of the people there were Nigerian. For some reason I assumed that the Knighten’s being from Texas would dominate. I forgot that we were in Houston, and the Nigerians exist there in hearty numbers and will straight bring the numberage at a family function. We were supposed to do dances with the family then have an open dance floor later, but during the bride dancing with her mother, the Ashobi women (kinda like traditional bridal support) came up and started doing this where they wipe a celebrants face with dollar bills. Next thing other people were coming up. Before too long, ALL the Nigerians were on the floor and had pretty much took over. It didn't help that the DJ was Nigerian and was eggin’ it on. I just let ‘em go ‘cuz I wasn't even trying to break that up. Later on I got run up on by some of Linda’s uncles telling me to have a dance for her parents. Then they did this thing where they all got around him and started tossing money at him. At this point I'm like DAG, what I got to do to get in the middle of summa this money toss stuff. You know, hey, I got people in Nigeria, too!!
So the Nigerians ran the dance floor after that until the end. I finally sat down for the first time in about five hours and even managed to chew on some chicken breast for a minute.
I must say that was the LONGEST day of my life. But it was probably one of the more fun, too.
Some things learned:
Go ahead and let heads eat first thing at the reception.
Change out of your rental shoes if you've got to walk around a lot (still got bruises from the tongue of them damn shoes).
Let know the bridesmaids know if you're going to give them flowers. I thought it would be cool if we surprised them, I think it just ended up with them looking at us like we were crazy while we tired to give them the flower before they crossed to their side of the isle. It was obvious they were nervous and seemingly abit stressed….that ish was funny.
Invite Uncle Sam to as many events as possible.
Nigerian women, even if they actually think your jokes are funny, will do nothing but scowl at a wedding if they are doing anything but spectating. This may apply to other functions, but I'm a little too intimidated to investigate.
Nigerians will, given the smallest opening, take over your sh!t.
And that ain't necessarily a bad thing.
Peace,
theweddingEmcee
Monday, February 02, 2004
another monday morning
it's 2:13a Monday morning.
Janet Jackson has finally solidified her place as a crazy-@$$, jackson (nobody would believe me after that album "Janet". Maybe now they will.
I haven't even started writing a paper that's due in less than 13 hours.
And my face is breaking out.
(Insert Charlie brown sigh here)
I wonder if Madonna reinvented herself as an acoustic guitar playing/song writing/ all-natural/small venue type, would Janet Jackson suddenly sprout a 'fro/locks and don an arm ankh & headwrap and sign with Okayplayer Records......
Janet Jackson has finally solidified her place as a crazy-@$$, jackson (nobody would believe me after that album "Janet". Maybe now they will.
I haven't even started writing a paper that's due in less than 13 hours.
And my face is breaking out.
(Insert Charlie brown sigh here)
I wonder if Madonna reinvented herself as an acoustic guitar playing/song writing/ all-natural/small venue type, would Janet Jackson suddenly sprout a 'fro/locks and don an arm ankh & headwrap and sign with Okayplayer Records......
Monday, January 26, 2004
Blah...
It's 1:48a monday morning.
I forgot to pay my car insurance before it cancelled.
I neglected writing down what the reading assignment for my monday class was.
And so I say: blah.
I've come to the conclusion that I'm going to try to just use the Willie Wells piece that I performed this summer as my thesis piece. Not quite sure how to turn that into 40 total pages of info, but I'm closer with it than I am with my other idea.
I was in Hollywood Video the other week and I saw this little kid that kept picking this little earring looking thing off of the floor and putting it his mouth. Then he put it back on the floor and went face-down to the floor to try to pick it up. Some adult-type person of some relation was with him but not noticing due to scanning the shelves for some Saturday afternoon DVD-based entertainment.
And so, once again I ask....should I have intervened?
God, please let Hollye get the Houston READ! job.
God, PLEEEEEZE let me get outta here wit my peece o' paper.
peace
I forgot to pay my car insurance before it cancelled.
I neglected writing down what the reading assignment for my monday class was.
And so I say: blah.
I've come to the conclusion that I'm going to try to just use the Willie Wells piece that I performed this summer as my thesis piece. Not quite sure how to turn that into 40 total pages of info, but I'm closer with it than I am with my other idea.
I was in Hollywood Video the other week and I saw this little kid that kept picking this little earring looking thing off of the floor and putting it his mouth. Then he put it back on the floor and went face-down to the floor to try to pick it up. Some adult-type person of some relation was with him but not noticing due to scanning the shelves for some Saturday afternoon DVD-based entertainment.
And so, once again I ask....should I have intervened?
God, please let Hollye get the Houston READ! job.
God, PLEEEEEZE let me get outta here wit my peece o' paper.
peace
Saturday, January 10, 2004
a clothing quandry....
yet again I've neglected my dear blog for far too long. I keep having these experiences and neglecting to document them somewhere. Shame on a nuh...
Here's a recollection of something that went down last night that I e-mailed to a few people, think I"ll just start putting this stuff here then send links to the blog (exposure!!)).
- So, I go down to the my local HEB (dass dah groshree sto fuh ya'll outta townuhz). As I was grabbin myself a few hours worth of snacks, I noticed this choclate chile of youthful comportment so I catch a glance, give an internal eyebrow raise, then get back to my shoppin'. I just happen to see the young lady again and realize that she's wearing a Spurs Jersey with what I assume are shorts that don't come below the hem. Again, whatever, I keep marchin'. Once I get to the register I realize that ALL she has on is the jersey with a black tee underneath, sorta Mariah Carey-style. So as not to burden her with my inquisitive gawk, I try to go to another line and, of course she's in one of only two express lines and the other one's kinda full, so I suck it up. I noticed her doing to some semi-awkward dips to reach for some dropped paraphanalia and was really quite surprised at how she managed to do so without revealing her posterior to the general populace, though she did sneak quite a hint at the beginnings of cranny..... It was about then that I noticed a little down-pointing white triangle around the small of her back showing from underneath the jersey. And so it hit me.
She was wearing a thong.
So was I wrong for not suggesting that she might need something more substantial than a (barely) large basketball jersey to cover herself when coming out into public?
Just the jersey with no shorts seemed like it could have been just a shortsight, but the thong leans me toward the belief that this may have been pre-meditated hoochism.
Your input is appreciated.
Here's a recollection of something that went down last night that I e-mailed to a few people, think I"ll just start putting this stuff here then send links to the blog (exposure!!)).
- So, I go down to the my local HEB (dass dah groshree sto fuh ya'll outta townuhz). As I was grabbin myself a few hours worth of snacks, I noticed this choclate chile of youthful comportment so I catch a glance, give an internal eyebrow raise, then get back to my shoppin'. I just happen to see the young lady again and realize that she's wearing a Spurs Jersey with what I assume are shorts that don't come below the hem. Again, whatever, I keep marchin'. Once I get to the register I realize that ALL she has on is the jersey with a black tee underneath, sorta Mariah Carey-style. So as not to burden her with my inquisitive gawk, I try to go to another line and, of course she's in one of only two express lines and the other one's kinda full, so I suck it up. I noticed her doing to some semi-awkward dips to reach for some dropped paraphanalia and was really quite surprised at how she managed to do so without revealing her posterior to the general populace, though she did sneak quite a hint at the beginnings of cranny..... It was about then that I noticed a little down-pointing white triangle around the small of her back showing from underneath the jersey. And so it hit me.
She was wearing a thong.
So was I wrong for not suggesting that she might need something more substantial than a (barely) large basketball jersey to cover herself when coming out into public?
Just the jersey with no shorts seemed like it could have been just a shortsight, but the thong leans me toward the belief that this may have been pre-meditated hoochism.
Your input is appreciated.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
The last few weeks' roundup (aka: I been too lazy to update)
Awight, so iss bin a minit....
Finally finished the Willie Wells Story run. After a few days of bull$#!! leading up to it, the last day actually went pretty well. Lucien Douglas came out to see it. As did Deepti and Larry. The last few shows went pretty well, I think. There were a few moments when I was really goin' for it, but I don't think I acted it up too bad. I should also mention that Elena and Melinda came to the show as well (they seem to have formed the "Desparately Seeking My Brownness Dream Team). So I'm doin the joint, feelin' alright. I wasn't trying to hard the way I did that time Flordelino came. I get to the end of the outfield sequence and make my brief exit to stage left. I get off, and suddenly I hear the vigourous clapping of hands...one set of hands. I knew immediately who it was, but for the sake of eschewing presumptuousness, I assume that it could have been one of the two classmates in the audience. Of course, it turned out to be Melinda whom God has seen fit to give an abundance (!) of enthusiasm. I had to fight a smirk coming back on stage, but I managed to get through it.
So we back at school now. I keep walking past the fountain in front of the MLK statue thinking, "now, just what kind of interesting thing am I going orchestrate in this glorified (though quite nice) bird bath. I'm still mulling the idea of a swordfight over, but I wouldn't want the swords to get scummy. I guess I could just clean them directly afterward. There is also this idea of having two people mirror each other for about an hour before finally having them begin to play in the water. Gotta do something. One's muse fades when not given the chance to see her inspiration utilized.
Let's see, what else.
I asked this young lady (who appeared to acrifan {<- be="" br="" dissed.="" down="" for="" got="" hmmmm...="" if="" intentional="" interviewd="" mama.="" my="" next.="" pen="" put="" red="" she="" spelling="" the="" thesis.="" to="" willing="" would="">Reading some interesting stuff for my Black Feminism class. I just read this article by Audra Lourde which says that the erotic is the opposite of pornography (pornography v erography?). Her basic argument is that women are denied their inherent need to explore the erotic. The erotic according to her is not just about sexual joy, but any true joy, period. This is either a quite inciteful and intriguing critique of western society, or her way saying that people gettin' happy in church are just getting off on Jesus. Look, I'm just sayin'....
Finally finished the Willie Wells Story run. After a few days of bull$#!! leading up to it, the last day actually went pretty well. Lucien Douglas came out to see it. As did Deepti and Larry. The last few shows went pretty well, I think. There were a few moments when I was really goin' for it, but I don't think I acted it up too bad. I should also mention that Elena and Melinda came to the show as well (they seem to have formed the "Desparately Seeking My Brownness Dream Team). So I'm doin the joint, feelin' alright. I wasn't trying to hard the way I did that time Flordelino came. I get to the end of the outfield sequence and make my brief exit to stage left. I get off, and suddenly I hear the vigourous clapping of hands...one set of hands. I knew immediately who it was, but for the sake of eschewing presumptuousness, I assume that it could have been one of the two classmates in the audience. Of course, it turned out to be Melinda whom God has seen fit to give an abundance (!) of enthusiasm. I had to fight a smirk coming back on stage, but I managed to get through it.
So we back at school now. I keep walking past the fountain in front of the MLK statue thinking, "now, just what kind of interesting thing am I going orchestrate in this glorified (though quite nice) bird bath. I'm still mulling the idea of a swordfight over, but I wouldn't want the swords to get scummy. I guess I could just clean them directly afterward. There is also this idea of having two people mirror each other for about an hour before finally having them begin to play in the water. Gotta do something. One's muse fades when not given the chance to see her inspiration utilized.
Let's see, what else.
I asked this young lady (who appeared to acrifan {<- be="" br="" dissed.="" down="" for="" got="" hmmmm...="" if="" intentional="" interviewd="" mama.="" my="" next.="" pen="" put="" red="" she="" spelling="" the="" thesis.="" to="" willing="" would="">Reading some interesting stuff for my Black Feminism class. I just read this article by Audra Lourde which says that the erotic is the opposite of pornography (pornography v erography?). Her basic argument is that women are denied their inherent need to explore the erotic. The erotic according to her is not just about sexual joy, but any true joy, period. This is either a quite inciteful and intriguing critique of western society, or her way saying that people gettin' happy in church are just getting off on Jesus. Look, I'm just sayin'....
Thursday, August 28, 2003
progression of the 'lock alternative
I relaxing on the ol' futon of soul(tm) checkin' TV and what not. For some reason, I thought about my naps and reached up there to see what was going on. So, I touched the top of my head and felt some hair sticking up. I rolled it up. A couple of minutes later I felt up there again and checked to see if there was anymore loose stuff. I came upon what felt to be a set of hairs naturally coiled together and went to the mirror to check it. Lo and behold I saw what looked just like a small yet burgeoning lock.
Unfortunately, it occured to me that that was the first set of hairs that I'd just twisted. It was still an encouraging glimpse into the possible future of the experiment currently underway on my head. I still wish my hair grew faster, though...
Unfortunately, it occured to me that that was the first set of hairs that I'd just twisted. It was still an encouraging glimpse into the possible future of the experiment currently underway on my head. I still wish my hair grew faster, though...
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
feed yo kid befo mah sho
So, I was doin' the show this past week...
The audiences had been particularly small. Usually, there would be at least a couple times during the day where there were at least ten people, but this day there had been only 2 or 3 people at each show.
A larger (relatively) audience finally came and they seemed pretty interested. In particular a lady with a family was really into it. She was holding a squirmy little boy, but seemed as though she was handling and managing to still pay attention like she'd done it before.
So, I'm up there doin the dang thang, people are liking it and the little boy is squirming. At some point after I'd gotten the show going for a while, I noticed her flip him over as though he was getting ready to let loose with a bit of wailing. She turned him perpendicular to her and I thought I saw her raise her shirt. Now, this is not the first time that I thought that a mother was breast-feeding during the show. I thought I saw it happen before, but then figured that it was just the result of staring out into an almost completely dark audience while having high temp stage lights shooting in your eyes. So, I'm continuing with the show and I see her flip the child, and without doubt raise her shirt and stick him underneath it. It happened one or two more times before the show was over.
Now, I don't think it's completely strange to have a mother breast-feeding in public. I certainly like to think that, if I ever have a child, that he/she will receive the blessing of nourishment directly from the source. But when you're up there on stage trying to concentrate and what not, it seems ABSOLUTELY strange. After she flipped the kid back and forth a couple times I found myself struggling to not stare at her feeding. Then it actually wasn't so much about me keeping my concentration as it was me feeling bad for looking. Compounding the problem was the fact that she seemed to the most into the show of anyone in the audience. I really was amazed at the way she was adjusting this kid and her clothing while never taking her eyes off of me. Yet more evidence that mothers, if not women on the whole, can't be faded when it comes to multitasking.
Nevertheless, feed Billy before you come into my show... got me all discombobulated tryin' not to look... knowin' I like breasts AND feeding.
The audiences had been particularly small. Usually, there would be at least a couple times during the day where there were at least ten people, but this day there had been only 2 or 3 people at each show.
A larger (relatively) audience finally came and they seemed pretty interested. In particular a lady with a family was really into it. She was holding a squirmy little boy, but seemed as though she was handling and managing to still pay attention like she'd done it before.
So, I'm up there doin the dang thang, people are liking it and the little boy is squirming. At some point after I'd gotten the show going for a while, I noticed her flip him over as though he was getting ready to let loose with a bit of wailing. She turned him perpendicular to her and I thought I saw her raise her shirt. Now, this is not the first time that I thought that a mother was breast-feeding during the show. I thought I saw it happen before, but then figured that it was just the result of staring out into an almost completely dark audience while having high temp stage lights shooting in your eyes. So, I'm continuing with the show and I see her flip the child, and without doubt raise her shirt and stick him underneath it. It happened one or two more times before the show was over.
Now, I don't think it's completely strange to have a mother breast-feeding in public. I certainly like to think that, if I ever have a child, that he/she will receive the blessing of nourishment directly from the source. But when you're up there on stage trying to concentrate and what not, it seems ABSOLUTELY strange. After she flipped the kid back and forth a couple times I found myself struggling to not stare at her feeding. Then it actually wasn't so much about me keeping my concentration as it was me feeling bad for looking. Compounding the problem was the fact that she seemed to the most into the show of anyone in the audience. I really was amazed at the way she was adjusting this kid and her clothing while never taking her eyes off of me. Yet more evidence that mothers, if not women on the whole, can't be faded when it comes to multitasking.
Nevertheless, feed Billy before you come into my show... got me all discombobulated tryin' not to look... knowin' I like breasts AND feeding.
Monday, July 28, 2003
SO.... I'd finished my last show today and was feeling like I'd done a pretty good job. There was a black couple in the audience, the female half of which I could see smiling through the whole show. I found myself trying not to play just to her or her companion. I duz try to spread my brilliance throughout the crowd (as minimal as my brilliance and the crowd tend to be).
Anyway, I noticed her going into the gift shop on my way out. I finally gave in to the lusty urge to be recognized, so I headed into the store.
As I walked around avoiding eye contact with the young lady (because you just can't be obvious about these things), I noticed an Asian (I believe Chinese, but I couldn't quite tell the language) lady walking around with her child. The little girl stood out to me because she was wearing a dashiki. I saw them again later with the rest of the family. The girl had a brother near her age that was wearing matching dashiki. Perhaps I'm unique here, but there's something about two small Chinese children in dashiki's that I find terribly intriguing. I wondered how they came to have them - if the kids chose them, the parents chose them (they were, after all coordinated). The thing I wondered most about them was if they saw the shirts as being just nice pieces of clothing or if they were a particular signifier of Afro-centered culture - the way I look at them. It was one of those times where the junior sociologist in me wanted to interview the mother. I was fairly tempted to go and ask the mother where she'd gotten the dashikis. Of course, the real question that I'd have been asking was, "why did you choose these shirts,". A valid question I guess, but it seems like it would be hard to ask without giving the impression that I was questioning the validity of them as people not of African descent wearing African (edit: African-themed) garb. Or maybe that's just me...doesn't really matter since I didn't ask her.
And the sister from the show did recognize me as I was walking out of the museum. I timed the eye contact just right...
Anyway, I noticed her going into the gift shop on my way out. I finally gave in to the lusty urge to be recognized, so I headed into the store.
As I walked around avoiding eye contact with the young lady (because you just can't be obvious about these things), I noticed an Asian (I believe Chinese, but I couldn't quite tell the language) lady walking around with her child. The little girl stood out to me because she was wearing a dashiki. I saw them again later with the rest of the family. The girl had a brother near her age that was wearing matching dashiki. Perhaps I'm unique here, but there's something about two small Chinese children in dashiki's that I find terribly intriguing. I wondered how they came to have them - if the kids chose them, the parents chose them (they were, after all coordinated). The thing I wondered most about them was if they saw the shirts as being just nice pieces of clothing or if they were a particular signifier of Afro-centered culture - the way I look at them. It was one of those times where the junior sociologist in me wanted to interview the mother. I was fairly tempted to go and ask the mother where she'd gotten the dashikis. Of course, the real question that I'd have been asking was, "why did you choose these shirts,". A valid question I guess, but it seems like it would be hard to ask without giving the impression that I was questioning the validity of them as people not of African descent wearing African (edit: African-themed) garb. Or maybe that's just me...doesn't really matter since I didn't ask her.
And the sister from the show did recognize me as I was walking out of the museum. I timed the eye contact just right...
Thursday, July 24, 2003
So I'm driving down 183 on the way back to the crib. I was enjoying a successful test of my most recent adjustment the cruise control I installed on the ride when I noticed a group of black people on the ground below playing something in a field. Now, I find just about any group of black people engaged in a sport that ain't basketball out of the ordinary, so I was interested. I realized that it was mostly women and, at first I thought they might be having a little soccer practiced for the kids. I looked again and realized that there was somebody rolling a ball toward someone in a batting cage. Right then I knew what I had witnessed: black women playing kickball.
I swung back around and drove over to the field they were in. Turned out that they are in the Austin Women's Kickball league. I'd heard of grown folks playing kickball and I'm pretty sure that I'd heard of AWK before. They said that there were some co-ed tournaments.
I will be involved in this before the end of the summer.
I swung back around and drove over to the field they were in. Turned out that they are in the Austin Women's Kickball league. I'd heard of grown folks playing kickball and I'm pretty sure that I'd heard of AWK before. They said that there were some co-ed tournaments.
I will be involved in this before the end of the summer.
Monday, July 21, 2003
Ok, a couple of months after creating a webpage on the U of Texas server, claiming that I'd use it as my blog, I'm finally putting one up. It's actually only because I saw somebody else's blog while looking up stuff about that girl that's accused Kobe of the unauthorized pleasure (put me down for not guilty - hey, sports wives and girlfriends, go with them dudes when they travel and save us all the trouble of watching this crap).
One quick thought:
You know this Fox produced syndicated live show "Good Day Live", I had the idea for something like this about 3 and a half years ago. Except my idea didn't include annoin'-@$$ Gillian Barbieri. I worked at a Fox station back when this show first got on the air. We were running nothing but talk show garbage and were told that it was going to get replaced with a live news show. It sounded to me like an afternoon version of the show that comes on Fox News Channel in the morning. But it turned out to be this crap. I suggested it to a radio personality that I was producing for on the weekends at the time. She was not at all interested. Guess I shoulda used powerpoint...
peace
One quick thought:
You know this Fox produced syndicated live show "Good Day Live", I had the idea for something like this about 3 and a half years ago. Except my idea didn't include annoin'-@$$ Gillian Barbieri. I worked at a Fox station back when this show first got on the air. We were running nothing but talk show garbage and were told that it was going to get replaced with a live news show. It sounded to me like an afternoon version of the show that comes on Fox News Channel in the morning. But it turned out to be this crap. I suggested it to a radio personality that I was producing for on the weekends at the time. She was not at all interested. Guess I shoulda used powerpoint...
peace
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)