Please darling, try not to be too upset with me. I've been away from the blog and I do apologize. In the last 4weeks, I've traveled over seas and returned only to become sick as a dog (more on that later. ugh). But I'm recovered, getting back on track--not to mention adjusting to a new city (I'm 3 1/2 weeks old here in Brooklyn!) So check it...I've left you with a love note and some music for your day. Thanks for dropping by, and I think you'll like to new website....
Until then remember to do everything in love.
Bow down to no sacred cows.
Sonically hear the beating heart of the world that surrounds you.
And finally, wash your hands after rubbing one out.
Enjoy this tribute to the legendary musician Darando, from my favorite KCRW dee jay, Jeremy Sole.
Though it's the middle of the night back west, I've basically said hello and good day to you fuckers. I am writing to you from my beautiful hotel lodge here in Pest. I've been quite fortunate to travel in a few European cities and worldwide since I graduated university in 400BC.
I've picked up a few phrases and customs from around the world. I don't want to give the impression that I am some aristocrat that goes into Banana Republics buying up relics and looking down my nose at the natives--but I have always had a curious mind. I like to see the tourist-y things, and I also like to chill amongst locals. I didn't really grow up that way. My provenance Chicago, was pretty segregated back in the day--still is. Now, I live in Brooklyn...it's no utopia, but it's pretty damned diverse--but I've not forgotten that feeling of being a little girl and looking at a globe and wondering "What do they do over there?"
The older I get, and the more stamps I have in my passport my goal is to become a citizen of the world.
This is my big fat opinion, but I can honestly say that traveling as a Black woman is not always an easy faire. In some places, seeing a Black face is not a big deal. But in other places you are immediately thought to be a prostitute. A thief. Or some machete wielding mad person, on some agenda bullshit. I have a dear friend, who is a respected fashion designer and professor at an institute in Kaula Lampur...she's one of the most intelligent and loving people that I know. And man, it hurts my soul when she shares with me the bullshit and blatant racism that she has to face.
Believe it or not folks, sometimes that very thing can discourage one to book a flight and seek adventures in foreign lands. Again, I am not speaking on behalf of any group--this is simply my opinion...that happens to be a fact :)
The Chinese believe that traveling nourishes the soul. I happen to agree with that. I have been here for 5 days now, and I have 2 days left before I fly back home. I'm gathering stories, and I've collected a lot of video. When I have more time, I will construct a story to share with you chronicling tales of Eastern Europe. But for now, I am so grateful for this opportunity...despite the challenges of being in a place where the language barrier is intimidating, and the gastronomy offerings are...well...I'll say difficult to be polite (for now).
I'm off to find a postal service so that I can drop postcards into the mail for some of you back home. Man I gotta tell you, sending and receiving post from the other side of the world is such a good feeling. Not everyone can afford travel due to different circumstances...but if you will allow, I will be your guide to travel and tom fuckery--world wide.
Alright kids, I'm off. But for now, a quick lesson in Hungarian! Oh don't worry, it will be easy. But trust me when I say, this language is very difficult. It's not like the base is Latin or Germanic. I don't know what it's core is...at first it sounds agressive...then you can hear the beauty. To my ear, it's a hybrid of Russian and Spanish. Still, it's hard.
But próbálok magyarul tanulni; translation "I am trying to learn Hungarian." Now it's your turn fucker!
Szia (pronouced see-yah) is an expression sort of like "ciao" in Italian. Szia can mean hello or goobye. köszönöm (ko-so-nom) is a formal thank you. Igen (ee-gan) is yes. Nem (nam as in Vietnam) is no.
And here's the most IMPORTANT expression that you can learn: Szeretlek (seteck-lek) This friends, means I love you. And you know I do. x
That's right mummy's little possum, that means Hello in Hungarian (according to Google translate)--which is where I will be traveling to tomorrow afternoon! BUDAPEST! Igen barátom, I will be in the land of ---wait....besides baths, goulash and an oppressive war(s), I realize that I don't know a whole hell of a lot about Hungary. Truth be told, I didn't even know that Buda and Pest were once two different cities. Ha! Yo ass didn't neither.
All jokes aside, I am very grateful for this unique opportunity. As an actor, I have had the rare experience of having a cultural institution support my career. I am an ensemble member of a highly respected theatre troupe Lookingglass in Chicago, an associate at Collaboration Theatre Company and Fox Fellow at TCG (Theatre Communications Group). This trip is made possible by the good folks at TCG, so them I say köszönöm. I will travel to Eastern Europe and soak up foreign culture, food and arts. I will see opera, take some dance classes and hopefully find a troupe of clowns to fuck around with.
So expect plenty of Tom Fuckery. Eastern European style. Bless the gods, I'm so excited. Lookit:
Mummy wants to thank you for ALL of the birthday love that you've shown me. This birthday has more glory, than a praise dance during 1st Sunday services at church. So thank you baby. Enjoy a few clips on the Slicklist--a few videos & images that always leave me feeling renewed an reborn again.
Mother, you fed us.
Nutrients
From your milk
be it breast
or formula in a can.
hydrogenated fats transformed the undesirable
we ignored the Velveeta commercials because we knew
Government cheese slices made the best grilled sammiches.
Before reality food tv, everyday was Chopped in our kitchen.
The cabinets and shelves had
tripe
chit-lins
Pig ears
Feets
bubbly cauldrons with dumplings
greens
smoked turkey necks
fat back, biscuits that popped out of a can, and canned fruit. Go.
We didn't know we were poor.
We didn't know about food insecurity
We were child soldiers, deployed daily by our commander mom
who fought to win the war on wealth concentration.
Mama
Brushed our hair neatly,
adorned our locs with ribbons and Goody barrettes.
Little boys hair brushed backwards, forwards, picked up, out and braided in corn rows.
No doubt, you planted seeds in those spaces.
So that we could grow tall and strong.
And while they STARED at us--distracted by our
Intricate styles, you taught us to look from the Aquarian part of our mind's eye.
So that we could really see past all of the lies and mendacity
We sat between your legs while you created
irregular networks of passages and paths on our tiny heads.
And why shouldn't we celebrate that nappy coiled texture?
An intricate and confusing arrangement to them, but beauty to us.
Try not become defeated when you watch Cain kill Abel.
Try not to become confused when the only roses you see are on a liquor label.
Try not to become overwhelmed with hatred when your white swim teacher refuses to get into the pool with your black classmates.
Those standardized tests, don't reflect what mama taught you. As long as you are willing, you can and will learn.
Learn to love with the unlimited powers that divinely flows through you.
Do love one another fiercely.
Do make an extra plate for that elderly neighbor, and deliver it.
Do respect all houses of worship.
Show up on time. Say please and thank you.
and baby, when it comes down to it--don't argue with nobody.
Tag that fool in the nuts and keep it moving.
And most importantly, do you boo. Mama gonna support your wildest dreams.
That's mother wit, for a hyper-segregated city.
Her children sequestered in the ghetto, will not dwell their forever.
Thank you Queen Mothers--related by blood and spirit for raising me.
Dearest friends, I cannot tell you how hard it's been to say, type or admit those words in these last few days. But it's true. It's time to hitch up the wagon, and take the circus to another town.
I will be moving 2, 796.4 miles on May 5, 2014.
Hitched to my wagon will be my beloved weave, wig & merikin collection, vintage marijuna bottles & baggies, every printed copy of LA Weekly, In-N-Out burgers cryogenically frozen awaiting consumption moments into Armageddon, and a fuck load of amazing memories.
My poor roommates and closest friends have watched me boo hoo and cry like the Tin Man in The Wiz. Contrary to what you might think, I LOVE Los Angeles. I love everything about Southern California and will defend this mothafucka until the day I die. I put that on ev'rythang Joe. Some of my best friends and my spiritual home are here. My sisters, brothers, cousins people who have had my back since I arrived May 10, 2004. Man--I can't even get into the hole in my heart, when I think about not seeing my friends on a daily basis???? Nope--another blog posting.
This has been one of the most difficult and liberating moments of my life. Y'all know I'm an old sentimental fool, so fuck you for laughing at me. When I moved to LA nearly a decade ago, I was fresh off the boat from Chicago. Flat Midwestern accent, 15lbs heavier, hair short and butchy, and a snarl on my face.
"FUCK these muffuckas. I'm gone set off a revolution in this industry."
It was my daily mantra. My modus operendai. My dao. My everything--drumming to the beat of my own sound. Fast forward 10 years later, the passion has not dissipated, but let me tell you friends--it ain't supposed to be quite like this. I know I deserve better. Especially as an actor. And more opportunities will arise from my writing, directing, and playmaking. And though it seems light years away, I know one day I'll make a significant impact in world cinema. "You're not "leaving LA." You didn't fail. Or quit. The endeavors here bore fruit that is now taking you on a road towards NYC. All is well. And unfolding as you and the great God of the Universe designed long before you were cuttin' folks with your switch blade and needing to be bailed out of jail. Smile! And be excited for the next leg of your amazing journey. Airplanes, phones, emails, and tweets can still make it back to LA when you need some sunshine, hiking, kombuca, and crispy granola hipster vegan assholes and hackneyed movie stars!" xoxoxxo Hoebag
This was a message sent to me from my very dear friend Linara (aka Hoebag). I reached out to her in a tearful panic--nearly overcome with fear, convinced that I couldn't make this move happen--and that I would be seen as this way or that way, or that I didn't quite hit the career goals that I set---that financially my house always seemed out of order---OR: I actually like driving. I don't wanna be on a public transit with other---people! Humans are gross. Plus as an actor, I sometimes run from call to call. I'm used to changing in my car, so what am I to do now?? Lug some suitcase around with me? Where will I change my clothes running from call to call in between working a real job--
THEN, it hit me: Wait wait wait WAIT WAIT. I don't have to live like that anymore. Why forecast more financial duress?? Changing clothes? Pffft. What if in fact, I don't have to change in public bathrooms and all that jazz--because maybe, just fucking maybe I'LL BECOME AN OFFER ONLY ACTRESS?
And why the fuck wouldn't I be?
Why the fuck wouldn't I be a dope playwright?
Director?
It can all happen in NYC. And who says, I have to worry about a day job? As a matter of fact, I just retired from my day job just 5 days ago. That's right; my working days as a figure model? OVER.
Bigger and better things ahead.
So
So....
After a deep breath, and some help from my friends...here I am--announcing to the world, that I am not a failure.
Doesn't matter if I'm the last in the room to know--but as long as I know it. And with that friends, I have to resume packing.
If I have not been able to spend time with you personally, please accept my humble apologies. Moving is incredibly stressful and mind boggling. Especially coastal moves--Again, I love you and I'm sorry if my leaving bums you out. I hope that you will love me, like I love you.
So, that's the word mummy's possum. Brooklyn's newest resident is a little black girl with freckles, called Slick.
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