Rebuilding

What's good, good people?

Just wanted to update everyone to let you know what's going on in the land of difference. It's been crazy since our launch party in August, and I think I can speak for both of us that it feels like we never stop moving. Philly, New York, Baltimore...back to Philly, back to New York...I don't even really keep track much anymore. A lot of you may have already taken a look at the site, so we just want to inform you that we're going to be taking it down for about a month, so that we can build it back up. Thank you for the feedback that we have received. Our mission is to ensure that we have a site that is efficient, user-friendly and fun, sleek...all that good stuff. So with the site being up for about two months, it has given us the opportunity to really take a look at what we can do a little differently. Please be patient with us. We will be updating through the blog, as well as our Facebook fan page, so please, if you haven't joined our "fan club" yet, please do. We want to keep everyone in the loop with what's going on. Sometimes you have to take it down to rebuild, and that's exactly what we're doing in this instance. We're not going anywhere...except back to work. We'll definitely be updating you as much as possible to let you know the deal. You will still be able to purchase tees if you wanted to rock the OGNK now. We're only a message away. Hoping that life is treating everyone well...and we'll see you soon.

Peace.

Back in business

I know it's been a minute...a really long minute since I've posted anything on here, but, we're finally back in action. I'd like to say that we took a little "break" from blogging to focus on some other projects that we have going on, which I'll be sure to update you on soon. With a launch party for OGNK, moving back to Philly temporarily, launching the site, and just life in general, there's oh, so much that needs to be said....so, today, thank you rain, for keeping me indoors to finally keep everyone up to date with what's going on. We've got a lot of catching up to do....

Peace.Love.

Your truth isn't necessarily mine...

I just find it very difficult; difficult to believe their so called "truths". I find it too hard to keep my mouth shut about this situation, because I'm so tired of seeing this shit happen. No one saying anything because they're too afraid of what is going to happen to them. The look of guilt that I saw on the faces of the NYPD as I took pictures of the gathering of the funeral for Omar Edwards. First and foremost, this man was a husband, a father, a son, a brother, a brotha...putting his life on the line. I wonder what made him want to be a cop. Seems to me that the NYPD is on the prowl, recruiting just like the military. Promising those that grew up in the ghetto a better life. Most of the new cops that I see on the street look like babies. Probably because they are. What irritates me most is the complete lack of care, concern, or sensitivity to this situation. Close the case on this one and keep another dirty secret. The skeletons in the NYPD's closet. Now, I'm not going to make assumptions, because I was not there. However, I am not going to be intimidated to state my feelings. Regardless of what really happened, this is a tragedy. Even if they do decide to do an investigation, his family is never going to get over this. Ever...even as the pain slowly starts to dissipate. I find myself asking a lot of questions, since there are so many holes in this story. No, I'm not jumping to conclusions, just speaking through different eyes. Reading in between the lines. Trying to absorb as much information as possible, so that my conclusion is not biased. This is my truth. How I see it. Regardless of whether or not you're offended, I can only continue to be who I am, and refuse to just accept what everyone else tells me is the case.

So, Mayor Bloomberg promoted Edwards to detective after his death? A lot of good that's going to do now. Okay, it's something, so don't just think that because I say that, I'm negative, or in most cases, people like to call me "an angry Black woman". Quite frankly, I don't think that Edwards was even on the NYPD's radar for becoming a detective when he was alive, so why is it that only after he was killed by one of his "brothers" that the promotion was made. Was that supposed to make his wife feel better? Just because you label him a hero, does that make up for his children who will never know their father? Is that supposed to be some condolence for the mother and father that had to bury their son? Is that promotion supposed to be some kind of "motivation" for other cops...if I get shot, maybe then I can get a promotion. How about a thorough investigation? How about a public apology for being so negligent? I have a feeling that his wife won't be seeing any of that "promotion" money to help feed her children. I have a hard time believing that anyone from the police squad is going to even go and visit her once the heat is off the situation.

So many people saying that we need to give the other officers the benefit of the doubt. Okay, whateva...most importantly, two out of the three cops there were under investigation. Officer Andrew Dunton (who killed Edwards), has received 4 civilian complaints in 4 1/2 years. Sergeant John Anzelino just completed a monitoring program for cops who have had too many complaints against them. This was his second time in the program. Anzelino has incurred more than 13 civilian complaints since joining the police force in 1996. An NYPD supervisor has described Anzelino's record "as more than a red flag", considering only 10% of the force receives a complaint in a 12-month period. So, obviously, once I read that, I knew that it was even more shady than I had originally thought. From some other witnesses account of the situation, Edwards didn't even have his gun drawn. He had Goita in handcuffs on the ground, with his gun on his waist. Since he was arresting someone, when the cops told him to turn around, how was he supposed to do that? And then the question that still remains....how is it that the fatal shot that killed Edwards was in the back? If he was facing all three cops before Dunton shot, why was the entrance wound of the bullet in the back? How are we now hearing that there were only three shots fired, instead of the six that were actually shot? Correction, news. Three shots hit Edwards, though six were fired.

Now, whether or not there is going to be an investigation, debate, cover-up...whatever, we cannot deny that there are a lot of holes in this particular story. Just like with Sean Bell last year. It's time to wake up. This could have been avoided, but now I know exactly why I don't trust the cops. Even the so-called good ones. I see the other side of the police living in Bed-Stuy. Harassing people...profiling...walking around like their balls are big. And they can continue to stop me, ask me what I'm doing...whatever they see fit. I know my rights...

Ignorance is bliss...

Ironic how this was in the newspaper after having a conversation with a friend about how I wasn't really feeling Kanye West. I don't want to take away from what the guy has done for himself. I just find it very difficult to witness someone with so much self-proclaimed intelligence act like a fool. After his mother passed, I saw an immediate transition in the way that Kanye acts. I know his mom was the most important thing to him, so I'm sure he went on a "spiritual journey" when recording "808's and Heartbreaks". I just feel like he's been more of a disappointment, than someone who has used his platform for the betterment of his people. Of course, this is all just my opinion. When I state my opinion, I'm not a "hater". I'm just being honest. Yes, hip-hop has always been about MC's talking about how fly they were. That's part of it. But that's also part of the craft...not part of their everyday, all day lifestyle...if you're really that dope, dude, you don't have to keep telling everybody that. Humble yourself. Come back down to Earth, and maybe speak to women about the effects of plastic surgery. Maybe mentor a child and show him how to get into production. Maybe stop talking about how much money you got, what labels you're wearing, and how everyone's on your jock. In his track, "Goldigger", he says, "and when he get on, he'll leave your ass for a white girl." Trying to be funny and talk about all the rest of them. Crazy thing about it is that "Mr. Gayfish" was just seen perusing through the world with his new, white, barely legal girlfriend...who surprisingly enough was a stripper. Of course, again, he took the "credit" for getting her out of that. Just shut your mouth, read a book, and stop thinking you're the greatest, dude. There are so many other artists out there before and after your time that deserve more credit than you do. And you don't hear them bragging constantly about how great they are. They did it for the love...you? I don't know what you're on...but it's not cute anymore...

Accident? Let's call it for what it really is....

Black cop killed by white officer: Horror in East Harlem as off-duty rookie is shot pursuing suspect

BY Alison Gendar, Erica Pearson, Barry Paddock and Leo Standora
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITERS

Friday, May 29th 2009, 12:32 PM

Keivom/News

Police respond to scene in East Harlem on Thursday night where off-duty cop Omar Edwards was fatally shot by NYPD while in pursuit of carjack thief.

An off-duty rookie cop chasing a suspected car thief in East Harlem with his gun drawn was shot and killed Thursday night when an officer mistook him for a criminal.

"Police! Stop! Drop it!" cops from the 25th Precinct shouted at Omar Edwards, 25.

As he started to turn toward him - the gun still in his hand - an officer opened fire, sources said.

The officer involved in the shooting is white, Edwards is black and had no visible NYPD identification on him, sources said. It was unclear if Edwards identified himself.

"This is always a black cop's fear, that he'd be mistaken for a [suspect]," a source said.

His father couldn't fathom how such a fatal mistake could happen.

"If a police officer sees someone with a gun, you don't just fire without asking questions or trying to apprehend the person," said Ricardo Edwards, 72. "If the person was firing at a police officer, I understand."

"It's a horror for everyone involved. No one comes out unscathed," a police source said.

One dejected cop said Edwards "just became a new father. He took some personal time so he could take the baby to North Carolina to meet his folks."

Edwards' mother, Natalia Harding, said her son had just married his girlfriend, Danielle Glen, last month at City Hall. They have two kids - 11/2-year-old Xavier and 7-month-old Keanua.

"I'm hurt that they took my son. That's my baby they took from me. And all I got was his last hug and kiss when he went to work [tonight] and he said, 'Ma, I'll see you when I come home,' " Natalia Harding said between sobs Friday morning at her Brooklyn apartment.

NYPD Commissioner Raymond Kelly said Edwards, who had been on the force less than two years and worked out of a Manhattan housing unit, had left work about 10:30 p.m.

He was in street clothes as he walked toward his car parked about a block away on Second Ave. between E. 124th and E. 125th St., where he saw Miguel Goitia rummaging through the vehicle. The driver's side window was busted out.

Edwards grabbed Goitia, who managed to slip out of his sweater and escape Edwards' grip, Kelly said.

Gun drawn, Edwards gave chase.

At the same time, three plainclothes officers in an unmarked car saw Edwards running down the street. The car made a U-turn, and one of the officers, a white cop with more than four years on the job, got out and fired six shots - hitting Edwards twice, once in the left arm and once in the chest, Kelly said.

Edwards did not fire his weapon.

Maalik Lane, 20, who was walking nearby, said suddenly he heard shots.

"More than five, boom, boom, boom, boom. Then there were just a lot of police blocking the streets."

Mayor Bloomberg, at a press conference at Harlem Hospital, said he expressed his sorrow to Edwards' wife.

"Nothing that you can ever say will bring back the deceased. He was there protecting the rest of us. We will find out what happened," Bloomberg said. "This is a tragedy. We'll see what we can learn from it."

Cops discovered Edwards was one of them when rescue crews cut open his shirt to treat the bleeding and saw a police academy shirt. They then searched his pockets and found his shield, sources said.

Investigators said the anti-crime cops arrested the car-theft suspect Goitia.

Edwards' mother said her son's dream was to be a cop.

"Ever since he was a little kid, he wanted to be a police officer. Something I didn't want, but it was his choice and he loved what he was doing. He loved helping other people," Harding said, noting she always worried about his safety.

My thoughts on this "accident":

I'm really over the idea that this could have been an accident. Too many fatalities are happening with the NYPD. I just find it very interesting that there has never been an "accident" like that where there's a reversal, meaning that I have yet to hear of a Black cop accidentally killing a white cop. It sickens me that people believe that racism and racial profiling no longer exist. Unfortunately for many people, I guess if they ignore the issue, they see it as irrelevant. Sometimes people only learn to care when it hits close to home. Whatever the case, or your opinion is, I believe that racism still does exist, and it's become more and more apparent with these cases. This case, in particular, has left a family in shambles...a newlywed, two young children, a son...they will never get over this, yet they're expected to because it was just an unfortunate "accident".

I've been following this story for the past couple of days, and one question continues to play over and over again. How was it that the shot that killed Omar Edwards was in the back? That means that he wasn't even facing the other cops when he died, although their "account" of the incident was different. Ok, maybe Omar should have stated that he was a cop. Maybe he should have just dropped his weapon. Whatever the case may be, Officer Edwards did NOT fire his weapon. I thought that cops were only supposed to shoot when their lives are in danger...a last resort. This case, to me, seems ruthless.

Reading articles about this, I see that they interviewed the homeless junkie that Edwards was chasing. Goita was attempting to steal a GPS system out of a car when Edwards spotted him. I don't trust Goita's story for a minute. Quite frankly, I think that someone threw him $50 to "recollect" his side of the story, which oddly enough doesn't match the evidence. Goita wasn't arrested...just questioned. And then, off to get high....

People wonder why I'm so wary of the cops. Honestly, it's because I see this happening every day. Not necessarily the murder, but the harassment, the skewed sense of power that they hold onto...playing God. I see the contrast in how people are treated when it comes to this. Call me jaded, negative, naive...whatever. This is my truth...so, let's take the rose tinted glasses off and see it for what it really is...murder.

In Loving Memory of my cousin, Ronald Lee Shepherd III (Shep), 12.05.83 - 08.08.08

It's long overdue, but I have been inspired to write about you. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of you. I'm sure the same can be said for many other people that were in your life. I hear a lot of could've, would've, should've...I still think that some people feel as though your fate could have been in their hands if they just did something a little differently. I feel that some are still attempting to process all of the emotions that come along with losing someone whom they loved so dearly. The only thing that I can say is that it's vital for everyone to take a lesson from you...about how you lived your life to the fullest...no matter what the consequences were. Part of my inspiration for writing this was mainly due to Terrance. So, to you, Ron, we will ensure that your spirit never dies, my dude....

I remember when my mom called me to tell me that you had passed. The mood was somber. It was a Saturday night, and Daud and I were sitting back drinking a brewskie. Motorcycle accident. I put the phone down, told D the news, and the first thing that he said to me was, "wasn't he just in a motorcycle accident, babe?" My attention was focused on my little cousin, Terrance. First person that I called after I hung up the phone with my mom. Shep and his crew were always together, so I was a bit apprehensive to find out how everyone was doing. I knew it wasn't too well. Then I thought of Tish, your dad, your mom, your sisters, Aunt Sandy...

Now, I've dealt with death on many different levels, many insane circumstances. It was different when I found the news with you. Found myself asking many more questions than usual when it comes to death. Could anything have been done differently? Could there have been anyone who would have been able to stop you from riding your bike that night? I don't want to really go into the other questions that I was asking because I'm emotional enough writing this blog. After a day or two of finally accepting the fact that you weren't going to be here in the flesh anymore, I realized that there was nothing that anyone could have done. Unfortunately, God made the decision to take you earlier than everyone else may have expected.

Daud and I rode to the funeral with Terrance. I was honestly afraid to look Terrance in his eyes, because I knew his pain. I mean, I spent a lot of time with this kid during childhood and adulthood, so I know him....very well. I knew that nothing that I was going to say was going to make him feel any better, so we just remained quiet for the ride. We get to the church, and I noticed many faces that I haven't seen in years. Main focus was just making sure that your crew, who was standing @ the front of the church, united, was going to be alright. Left Terrance to be with everybody, and D and I walked into the church. We sat in the back, and my eyes became fixed on Tish. I had no words to utter...I couldn't feel her pain as deeply as she was feeling it; I just sat, watched, shed tears...and waited.

I remember when the pastor talked about you. First thing that he mentioned is that you lived more life in your 24 years than most people do in an entire lifetime. Oh, so true. One thing that I always respected about you is that you were a walker, not a talker. Some people always talking about what they're going to do...never actually doing it because of fear of the unknown. Afraid to take a risk. Afraid of failure, rejection, even success. That was never you. You did what you said you were going to do. You lived life to the fullest, and that is one lesson I hope that people realize at the end of the day.

No, I'm not taking away from anyone's pain...I don't think that the pain will ever go away. But, I chose to celebrate you as a person, being grateful that I got the chance to know you beyond the surface. One thing that I can say about this, I hope that people choose to actually LIVE and not merely survive. Life is not guaranteed to any of us, so I hope that people learn not to hold grudges, make amends, love, and always look at the bigger picture. I find that so many people get wrapped up in the menial bullshit in life, as opposed to knowing that everything is going to work out. I hope that people have learned to have faith in God, and not just themselves.
I hope that people learn to think deeper than the surface. In all reality, we're never really safe anywhere that we go. So, I'm hoping that people learn to be dreamers, doing what they really want to do...not letting anyone or anything hold them back. You did it. And I will not sit here and regret what could have, should have, or would have been. We knew who you were and what you represented. So, to you, Shep, please look down upon those that love you...you will always and forever be with us, my dude. Until we all meet again...rest in peace, cousin.

Peace. Much Love...
Angie Lee

SOUL CANNON...goes BOOM!

Soul Cannon @ Fontana's (New York) - May 13, 2009

What a good show! Although this blog is a bit late, I think that it's vital to continue to spread the world about this band. Yeah, you could call it hip-hop, jazz, soul, rock...which is exactly why I "heart" Soul Cannon. A little something to appeal to everyone's taste. The crowd was great, and it's so good to see that they've got crew from Baltimore School for the Arts and Peabody coming out to support and show love. Another great aspect of the band is that you can tell the passion that these guys have for their music. When you listen to Eze's lyrics (really listen), they make you think. When you witness the band live on stage, it becomes a cohesive "movement" of a crew of talented, passionate, and really nice guys that were definitely worth more than the $7.00 door charge. So, to you, Soul Cannon, thank you! Keep bringing the FIRE!!!!!! All new music does not SUCK, as I've heard a lot of people say...

So, now on to the band introduction...Eze Jackson (MC), Matt Frazao (guitar), Nathan Ellman-Bell (drums), Ryan Dorsey (bass), and Jon Birkholz (keyboards). I must say that Jon's grandmother was so precious. So, we must give a shout out to grandmama for showing her face @ a show on the L.E.S. Love it!

We get a text from Eze..."yo, we're about to go on..." Don't worry, bro, we're right outside. Right on time. Camera charged and ready to go. The energy that this band had on stage was incredible. They made us laugh, dance, and think beyond the surface. I observed every band member individually, and saw for myself that these cats are about the band, not about themselves. It was refreshing to see how people's differences could create something so real...you can really tell that everyone's opinion is respected and taken into consideration. Talking to everyone individually after the show, it was so nice to hear that when talking about the show, no one ever uttered the word "I" when referring to the band (unless, of course, they were saying "I need to take a leak")...it was all about "we"...Soul Cannon...not just Eze, Ryan, Matt, Nate and Jon as individuals. It was about the group, and that's exactly why I see Soul Cannon lasting for a long time to come...only getting better. Although I know Ryan is the one who cracks the whip at band practice, I'm sure it's all out of love. Someone's gotta do it, right?

So, please check out Soul Cannon when you get the chance. They performed a show in Philly on May 15th @ Pub Webb, which I hear was oh, so great. We were in Philly, ready to go to the show, but unfortunately Dug got sick. Mad love to Eze for coming through to check on his brother before heading back to Baltimore (at 4.00 in the a.m.) Just goes to show you what kind of people we're rollin' with...the GOOD ones....

Check them out on Myspace.com/soulcannon or soulcannon.com. Just make sure that you buy a bag of Peanut Chews for the MC afterwards. Oh, and make sure that Nathan has his car checked before he travels on the road...they know exactly what I mean....

What's really real?

It's been a crazy week. Seems like every time we take one step forward, it feels like life just comes in, and forces you to take a few steps back. I've learned to just roll with the punches. It's times like this that I'm forced to slow down, breath deep, and reflect. Ask myself what's really real. Being grateful for what I have, knowing that it could be so much worse. Last week I was tested big time. We're back! We have a healthy Dug in the mix again, and although the situation has set us back a couple of weeks, we're back with a vengeance.

My interpretation of dreams and bullets....

Yes, I'm back on here again. Really, I should be washing clothes and getting ready to head into the city, but I'm taking my time today. I won't even begin to tell you how I was inspired to write this blog...oh, my mind is again traveling into THOSE places. Back to the subject...

My interpretation of dreams and bullets...
I guess all of the bullshit that I've had to endure throughout my life can best define my dreams and bullets. I don't take anything as a mistake, more a lesson. Part of my character building. Yes, I've been back stabbed, sabotaged, beaten, bruised, homeless, helpless...but never soulless. Always maintained my integrity. But there have been many tests. Many, many tests that I know will continue to surprise me when I least expect it...to make sure that I'm staying true to my word...and to put me in check if I'm not. I've learned to remain focused, and only think positively, knowing that this mission will come to fruition if I just keep plugging into the bigger picture. I choose to live by my dreams...but will accept my fate if it's bullets that kill me. I hope that my bullets are sweet sonnets heard in the world's ear. I hope that I can make someone's life better. I hope that my bullets are beautiful, blossomed flowers shooting out of an oozie, into the hands of someone who needs a little hope. I want to do everything that I've set out to do...but at the end of the day, I want to be free...spontaneous. I hope to surprise even myself.

So, thank you to all of you who believed in me, and those who did not. It kept me motivated to make things happen. Thank you to all of those that shit on me when I needed someone the most. It taught me how to depend on myself. Thank you to all of those that inspired me...especially all of my peoples. Thanks for being fam. To all of you who were offended when I declined to go out to dinner, or dancing, please don't take it personally. I was just going home to create, and save some money to start a business. To all of you who called me, and received a phone call a month later, I still love you...I'm just making moves.

In the grander scheme of things, I'm hoping that we'll be able to give back more than we do now. Way too much suffering and pain going on, and I'll be damned if I'm going to sit on my ass all day and not do my part to create a shift. It's all about looking out for one another. As I fly away to wherever the world is taking me right now, family, we HAVE NOT, and WILL NOT forget who you are. It's time to make moves.

Peace.Love.
Ang (not Brooklyn Angie...Philly Angie)

Am I pretty now?

I'm getting a little tired of people's suggestion that I should buy myself a rack. So, my best defense is a blog...

"Ang, have you ever thought of getting breast implants? Then, you'd be hot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

No, I have never thought about breast implants. Of course, when I was a little girl, I'd steal my sister's bras and stuff them with toilet paper. I never perfected that craft. All I wound up with is a crinkly, lopsided chest...and about a roll of wasted toilet paper. Truly, as far as plastic surgery is concerned, it's not really that appealing to me. No, I will not sit here and knock those that choose to partake in "cosmetic enhancements", but I find myself always questioning why they make that choice in the first place. My mom and dad always pounded into my head that true beauty exudes from the soul...so work on that first. Secondly, I've seen so many "pretty" people become the victims of tragic accidents, where in the blink of an eye, that pretty face that they banked on having forever became mauled. My mom and I used to have conversations about this when I was a teenager. I went to a high school where girls were getting nose jobs at 14 years old. You know, trying to disguise it during winter, spring or summer break. 14 years old and plastic surgery? Whose idea was that, and how in the hell is it justified?

I don't get mad because people have opinions. Honestly, I think that great conversations begin through people truly and honestly communicating about what they believe in. However, I do get irritated and uncomfortable when those that don't even know me make a suggestion about how I can better flaunt my body. Those that truly know me are aware of who I really am...and I'm quite sick of those that know absolutely nothing about me feel as though they can tell me what my long term superficial goals should be. I like to think a little deeper than that. I'd rather help fund a child's education, as opposed to spending thousands of dollars on lip injections, botox, tits, ass, calf implants, eye lifts, brow lifts, etc. I work in restaurants, so I hear a lot of conversations about this. I hear conversations on the train...on the street...on the news...EVERYWHERE I GO. So consumed with the exterior, and wonder why after all of the plastic surgery, they're still not happy. Look within. Deep within. I personally don't want any foreign objects in my body floating around. What I've got gets the job done. Plus, as I like to say, hopefully small breasts age better.

Not to say that I don't care about looking my best. I just choose to work with what I've got, and not worry about what people think...just be happy with who I am and continue to keep it moving.

The Charles L. Blockson Gallery @ Temple University...

Thought that this information might be useful to those in the Philadelphia area looking for something to do. My aunt was named the new curator in 2007, and has been grinding to get the new collection and space (Sullivan Hall) together. Plus, it's always good to know some history. You know where to find me if you need any further info. Until next time, kiddies..Peace.Love... Ang New curator for Blockson Collection named

Construction to begin soon on improved, larger space in Sullivan Hall

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

CONTACT: Hillel J. Hoffmann

After a nine-month national search, historian and archivist Diane D. Turner has been named the next curator of Temple's renowned Charles L. Blockson Afro-American Collection, one of the nation's foremost university-based collections of African-American prints, photographs, slave narratives, manuscripts, letters and other materials. "Diane's deep understanding of the African-American experience, her professional record and her connections to local communities make her the ideal person to lead the Blockson Collection as it moves into a wonderful new home in Sullivan Hall this academic year," said Temple President Ann Weaver Hart. "I am grateful to Vice President for Student Affairs Theresa A. Powell, Charles Blockson and the rest of the search committee for bringing Diane, a Temple graduate, back to Main Campus." Turner will start on Sept. 10, 2007. She will succeed Blockson, who retired as curator on Dec. 31, 2006. Aslaku Berhanu has been serving as the collection's interim curator since Jan. 2, 2007.
From 2002 to 2006, Turner was curator of collections and exhibitions for the African-American Museum in Philadelphia. During her tenure, the museum acquired many significant materials ranging from Charles Johnson prints to First African Baptist burial artifacts, and it was awarded grants to conserve and preserve the collection, including a project to digitize the civil rights photos of the museum's Jack T. Franklin Photographic Collection. Turner currently is a course director for the Bard College Clemente Course in the humanities, an innovative higher-education program for low-income and minority students sponsored by Rutgers University–Camden's Mid-Atlantic Regional Center for the Humanities. She also teaches African-American history at Camden County College; serves as project director for the African-American Community in Woodbury, New Jersey Oral History Project; and is a consultant for several museums. Her latest book is Feeding the Soul: Black Music, Black Thought. In 2006, Turner curated “Look Again: African-American History is American History” at Philadelphia’s Rosenbach Museum & Library, the first exhibit of African and African-American items from the Rosenbach’s collection in the museum’s history. Turner, a native of Malvern, Pa., holds three Temple degrees: She earned a bachelor’s degree in anthropology and art in 1983, a master’s degree in history in 1991 and a doctorate in history in 1993. “I’m thrilled to be back at Temple and I’m honored to continue the Blockson legacy,” Turner said. “This world-class collection represents Mr. Blockson’s vision of promoting a greater understanding of African-American history by conserving and preserving historical materials in a repository that is easily accessible to all.” Born in Norristown, Pa., Charles Blockson began his collection in his youth before becoming one of the nation’s leading experts on the Underground Railroad. Today’s Blockson Collection includes first-edition works by Phillis Wheatley and W.E.B. DuBois, African Bibles, correspondence of Haitian revolutionaries, Paul Robeson’s sheet music, narratives by Sojourner Truth and Frederick Douglass, thousands of taped interviews and radio programs, and more than 500,000 photographs. The Blockson Collection soon will move to a new, larger, more prominent space made possible by President Hart on the first floor of Sullivan Hall. Currently housed in separate rooms totaling less than 2,000 square feet, the collection will occupy a single, contiguous, 3,000-square-foot space when construction is completed later this academic year. The new entrance to the collection will face Sullivan Hall's main doorway. Philadelphia architecture firm Kelly/Maiello has been hired to design the collection's new space. Construction will begin during the fall 2007 semester, and will be completed in the 2007-08 academic year. "The Blockson Collection's new home will be the kind of large, welcoming, open and well-lit space that the collection and the scholars who use it deserve," Hart said. In fall 2006, Hart announced the formation of the Blockson Collection Endowment Committee, co-chaired by Temple Trustee James S. White and Deputy Provost Richard M. Englert, to honor the legacy and accomplishments of Charles Blockson by raising funds for the preservation and dissemination of his collection. The President's Office has allocated $100,000 to begin the process of building resources. To use special collections (i.e. photographs and manuscripts) users are advised to arrange appointments. The collection is open to the public and group tours are available by appointment. For tour reservations call (215) 204-6632. The hours of service for the Blockson Collection are Monday through Friday, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. It is closed on major holidays. The Charles L. Blockson Afro-American Collection Temple University @ Sullivan Hall 1330 W. Berks Street Philadelphia, PA 19122

Reflections...a note to my "Emcee"

Oh, how long it's been...
Since I've reflected on how this all began...
How something so safe became my familiar.
Like, the perfect setting for the meeting of our minds...
Or, how you found me just in time...
Baring my soul...
While you deciphered my rhymes...
And read between the lines...
Knowing that you would win my heart with patience.
As I...
Untangled myself from the deceitful web that was woven...
Playing fair...
Fragile heart, strong mind...
Trying to find love in all the wrong places...
Faces with no names...
Were all the same...
I found one exception to that rule.
Or,
How we made dreams become reality...
Despite being in the midst of tragedy...
Travesty...
Love so deep that even the blind can see...
The depths of you and me.
Or,
Those times that I questioned
If I was prepared for another test...
And,
Another lesson...
In this game that I called love...
'Cause I was tired of questioning...
The fact from the fiction.
Trusting that you would make the right decision...
As you listened to the mission...
Of a poetess...
Not in a dress...
Who refused to accept anything less...
But true context...between the best.
Deciphering my code...
Understanding my aggression...
Only wanting,
Wishing...
Praying...
That someone would relieve me of my...
Ambiguity.
The chaos...
The pain..
That raged inside of me.
Lost souls desire to be free...
Apprehensive to fall in love...
Knowing how easy it would be to lose that...
Though the fact still remains...
That we have a destiny.
Tangible dreams...
If I only allowed me...
Myself,
To unlearn those lessons...
Stop questioning...
And grant you nothing less than my full attention.
I found peace of mind...
In between the lines
of your scripture...
Painting the bigger picture...
With intricately placed brushstrokes
On a blank canvas...
Mass of colors that I'd never noticed...
Before you...
I only saw black and white...
On my abstract painting that I called...
"The Game of Life"...
Willing to be my saving grace...
At a time and place that I needed it...
Since I was too preoccupied saving everyone else first.

And then I continue reflecting....
On life's mission.
Thanking the most high for bringing us back together...
Knowing that we're only getting better...

And, how they didn't want us to be together...
Thought they'd be clever...
And come up with some bullshit...
Whatever...
Lies that they could conjure up...
A twisted scheme...
Attempting to block this team...
You and me...
From making dreams become reality.

Meanwhile, we were devising our own equation...
To reach our final destination.

Despite homelessness,
I found comfort and warmth on your chest...
And knew that if I trusted faith...
The impact that we could make...
And how...
True love like this can never be replaced.

A simple chapter in a complex book..
Took me a while to realize that...
You've raised the bar
For those other cats...
Who did me like that.
Those other "chicks" in your past...
Are exactly that...
Your past.
Now we're in the present...
The gift...
We're back...
Fighting for this mission...
This vision...
Only hope is that they're listening...
To this Organik testament.

When Philly's on my mind...

Just a few things that we love and miss about Philly...

1. The desolation on Saturday mornings...
- Many mornings, we'd wake up early, and take a walk. Philly was quiet then. The dew in the morning, or watching the sun rise as we walk north on Broad St.

2.Valanni's
- Especially late night. I don't know about now, but a few years ago, they offer a 20% discount to those in the restaurant industry. The people were nice, the food was good (especially the mussels and creme brulee), and the music wasn't bad either. Plus, there's outside seating. Just make sure that you put the cash in your server's hand before you leave...Dug and I had to jump some dude for trying to grab our check presenter.

3. Rarebreed
- I must say that the most convenient location was on 15th and South...since we lived two blocks away from there. Good peoples...our peoples own that store. So, check it out. For all your graffiti, music, art, and book fixes. New location: Broad and Tasker @ 1624 S. Broad Street. Whenever we make the trip to Philly, we make sure to stop by and see what's good.

4. House Parties
- Philly, to us, will always be remembered as the home of the house party. Somebody was always having one. I do fondly remember the days of Alexis, Paradocs and Apil throwing the summer house parties and bbq's. Never knew what was going to transpire, but there'd always be a story to tell the day after.

5. Backyard BBQ
- Loved the backyard in South Philly. Whoever showing up whenever, while we cooked on the grill that Dug made. Good food, good times.

6. Painted Bride (Day of the Poet)
- Never knew who was going to be there. A place that I saw as home every First Friday. Russell Simmons, Ursula Ruckr, Jill Scott, The Twin Poets...grew up watching these people perform there.

7. Ortlieb's Jazz Haus
- Always had live bands playing. Good food. Inexpensive, and a true to heart jazz spot. It's small, or shall we call it intimate? Definitely worth checking out though.

8.Harry's
- This particular one doesn't have to do with Dug, but I loved this place. So much that I started working there. Good, good people. They taught me alot, and although alot of people may think it's bullshit, I met so many different types of people. Some that I didn't even expect to step foot in an occult shop. One of the best jobs I've had to date.

9. The Gathering
- Especially when it took place on Penn's campus. In the springtime, live band, emcees, poets, breakers...oooh, can remember it like it was yesterday.

10. Walking to work
- Yes, there were those times in Philly when I was broooooooooooke. Like, really broke. But I always knew that I'd at least be able to walk to my shift at work. Always. And then, there were those times when I did have money to get to work, but opted instead to get up early and walk to 3rd and Chestnut. Those spring, summer and fall days when the city was moving. but taking their time to appreciate everything around them.

11. Rittenhouse/Clark Park
- The free shows, the festivals, the flea markets. Sitting by the frog in Rittenhouse Park and writing poetry. Taking lunch from work and eating octopus salad with Dug. Late night walks home. Naptime. Good times.

12. Letto
- Good, good food. Delivery. Sammiches. Sushi. Seaweed Salad. Aloe juice. Need I say anything more? Need one of those in Brooklyn.

13. Robin's Books
- Any book or magazine that I was looking for, I always found here. Whether a children's book, out of print, or a rare coffee table book, I knew that Robin's would always come through. Spent many hours in this store, and found alot of books that I'd never be able to in Barnes and Noble, or Border's. Plus, it always made me laugh when old dudes would walk out of the porn section, looking all shady. I know what you're doing , man, and it's all good. We're @ Robin's.

14. Mutter Museum
-Medical abnormalities. Used to take trips here in high school, and it grew on me. Not many people know about the Mutter Museum, or have visited it, but if this is your thing, it's definitely worth checking out.

15. Fairmount Park
- Late nights. Early mornings.Walks. Drives. The curves. The people. The Azalea Gardens and Boathouse Row behind The Art Museum. The city skyline. Looking up and discovering the stars glowing.

16. Zanzibar Blue
Tons of good times with friends and musicians. Jamie Cullum, Hiromi, Jamaladeen Tacuma, Maynard Ferguson...Dug and I drinking scotch with Lou Rawls and his wife, Nina, after his performance, three months before he died.

17. Black Lily @ The Five Spot
-Never knew who was going to show up here. And it was only $5. The Roots, Common, Erykah Badu, JazzyFatnastees, Floetry, Saul Williams, Ursula Rucker...

18. 5th and Cecil B. Moore after parties
-No matter where your night started, you could pretty much guarantee that a slew of people were going to show up here late night.

19. The free gelatis from Rita's
- One day while skimming through the Philadelphia Weekly, I found a coupon for a free gelati from Rita's. For a whole summer, every week, I would pick up 10 papers, tear out the coupons, and supplied us with free gelatis from Rita's for the whole summer.

20. The Fresh Grocer (40th and Walnut)
- Open 24 hours. Need I say anything more? I have yet to find a comparable grocery store, even in New York.

And, of course, all of the cool ass people that we met in this city...

Top 10 Late Night Chill Albums on Rotation...

3.40 in the morning, blogging, this is what I like to hear in my ear...

Artist/Album

1. Bonobo/ Animal Magic

2. Incubus/ Make Yourself

3. Nina Simone/ Compact Jazz: Nina Simone

4. Nitin Sawhney/ Human

5. Sa-Ra Creative Partners/ The Hollywood Recordings

6. The Fugees/ The Score

7. Floetry/ Floetic

8. Dephonate/ Poetics, Aesthetics and Hip-Hop

9. The Bad Plus/ GIVE

10. Amy Winehouse/ Frank

To be 14 years old again...

I couldn't imagine going back to being a teenager. Of course, I had some of my best memories during that time. At no point can I imagine being 14 old years in 2009. It was awkward enough being a teenager in the nineties. I guess the reason that I write this is because I mentor a 14 year old. I can remember being a teenager. The last thing that I wanted to do was follow someone else's schedule, especially an adult. So, I've learned to be open..flexible, letting our friendship grow organically. I don't want anything to feel rushed and forced. Slow and steady wins the race.

The lights, the camera, and the action. The temptation. The closed doors. The gunshots. The obstacles. The fight. The responsibility. The pressure...and through all that, still finding a way to have a dream. Reality tv, breast implants...plastic dreams. Gossip Girl, America's Next Top Model, My Super Sweet 16...what ever happened to the days of hop scotch, double dutch, and water balloon fights? Now, it's all about the gloss and the short shorts. Watch your step...she's only 15, although she looks to be about 20. Don't risk it.

I know what I was doing when I was 14, so I try to understand. To not force any ideas or ideals on anyone, but to be there with open arms when I'm needed. I'm going to fight for this girl. She deserves it. She wants it. Quite frankly, I think that she needs it. But I'm going to wait, take my time, and allow her to make her own decisions...no need to rush the inevitable. I'm quite confident everything will work out just fine.

Until next time, kiddies...
Peace.Love.
Ang

Conversations about Swine Flu...H1N1

Yes, we've all been hearing about this lately, so you know that conversations about the Swine flu are crazy right about now. I went to work the other night, and Jessica made sure to let us know that she brought Purell for us. I laughed when Paolo said that at the rate New York is going, people need to worry more about herpes than Swine flu. True...

Dug sent me an e-mail...Swine flu Outbreak in U.S. SARS mask available @ goaheadbedifferent.com. Haha, very funny. I send a reply: yeah, I have a couple of people in mind that we should customize one for..

I go outside, put my headphones on, and begin my walk to the subway. Uh oh, people are sneezing everywere around me...and coughing. Cover your mouth. Now, I start sneezing. Do I have swine flu? I think I should really take into consideration that the weather has just broken, and pollen is running rampant in the air. Maybe that can be a factor in everyone around me sneezing...allergies.

I do a little research on the internet about this "pandemic"...

Swine flu cannot be contracted through consumption of pork products, though it can be transmitted through contact with a pig. Ok, check. Don't eat pork, and as far as I'm aware, we haven't come into contact with any pigs lately, except the cops. Then, I switch over to Wikipedia and dig a little deeper. Now they're saying that it's actually a string of flus that can be transmitting this virus. North American Swine flu influenza, North American avian influenza, human influenza, and swine influenza. What? Okay, make up your mind news. I'm confused by the contradiction. One day, it's all good...the next, it's time to buy a mask.

I should've known. That's usually the way they roll. I sometimes feel like it's all a ploy to stimulate the economy.

Black Cat...

Sometime last summer, a stray cat on our block had kittens. One of the women up the street nursed the kittens, outfitted them with flea collars, and let them go. In the winter, I started noticing one of the kittens chillin' on our doorstep, or somewhere in close proximity of our building. This past winter was pretty brutal, so, of course I felt really bad. Everytime I would go to the market, I'd pick up a couple of cans of food for this cat. One thing that I noticed about her immediately is that she had a beautiful, shiny, black coat. Her green eyes were piercing, very vibrant and clear. Doesn't look anything like the other strays that I'm used to seeing in Bed-Stuy.

Dug started trippin' once I asked him if we could take the cat in. If it were up to me, we'd have tons of stray animals and children living in here, but I'm glad that he makes me think about my proposals before I base my decision on emotions. "Babe, you can't feed that cat everyday...she's never going to leave." My mission exactly. It's been months, and still he hasn't budged, but Dug has grown a little fondness for kitty, even if he won't admit it. I never see the cat during the day, but once the sun starts going down, I know that she's coming back to the building.

Coming home from work, or the grocery store, or wherever, I see kitty...always trotting up the block when she sees me, just to rub up against my leg and purr. She never attempts to come into the building, though she will walk right to the door, and keep her eyes focused on us as we walk up the stairs to the apartment. Meow. I'm happy the weather is getting nicer. Dug always assures me that the cat will be able to survive for a long time. They're resilient...they have nine lives. Anytime we leave the building, she'll walk with us to the end of the block...never crossing the street, but bidding us a small farewell...or, at least that's how I see it in my head. Kitty was getting big for a minute...we thought she was knocked up. But we eventually came to discover that a good portion of our neighbors' have been feeding her too. Sneaky cat. No wonder...

In Memorium of John H. Todd, III

I can remember when I found out the news about your death. The utter shock, as I opened the Metro newspaper, on the 42 bus, on my way home from my shift at Zanzibar Blue. I can remember it like it was yesterday, and although it has been years since you've passed, there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of you. I don't ever think that you knew how much I appreciated you, although I tried to convey my love for you the best way that I could. I still have no regrets about what I should've, could've, or would've said to you. I feel that you already knew. I do regret that our friendship was cut short. I wish that the world had the chance to see more of your artwork, though you did make a name for yourself in the art world. So, this message is to my friend, whose spirit will never die...

I remember when we first met. It was in King of Prussia, and you were giving a few of us a ride to a rave. We instanstly clicked, listening to drum and bass and hip-hop in your car. I was happy that I was going to have someone that wasn't afraid to dance. I will never forget the look on your face when both of us pulled out the same Triple 5 Soul hoodie to put on when it got chilly. After that, we were pretty much inseperable. Part of the reason that I knew that we had a real friendship is because I knew that I could trust you. Never had to worry about what you were going to try to do to me, or what your motives were. I remember all of the shows that we went to...Jurassic 5, Dilated Peoples, Public Enemy, The Roots, Kool Keith...I could go on for days. I can remember the days at The Gathering and The Painted Bride. Us hype to spit whatever poem we had written. I remember when you would come to the house and bring canvas and paint, so that we could paint a picture together. I remember the days when you would drive 45 minutes into the city, just to stop by my job on South Street to say hi, and wait until my shift was over, so that I could ride with you to get the cheesesteak that you had been craving all day. I remember your deployment...both of them.

I think back on everything. You were the first one that I told when I fell in love. You told me to hold onto him because he treated me so well. Better than any of the other ones. I can remember when you came into my job right before you were about to leave for Iraq to get our new address. You said that you and Colleen were planning on getting married in July, and Dug and I had to be there. We talked for a long time, and I knew that after you got back from Afghanistan, you were never going to be the same. In my heart of hearts, I knew that this was going to be the last time that we saw one another. I tried to remain positive and confident in front of you, but I knew then and there that I was going to lose you. We promised to keep in touch, and we did as much as we could.

And then...

One night on my way home from work, I picked up a Metro newspaper that was lying on the seat next to me. I skimmed through the paper, read some articles, and then closed it. Something told me to go through that paper again; this time around taking my time. Divine Intervention. I discovered a small article somewhere in the middle of the paper. Cpl. John H. Todd, III was killed by a roadside bomb in Baghdad, along with two other Marines in his platoon. I let out a wail after everything registered in my head, and asked the bus driver to let me out. It was all so surreal. "Why, John?" I called my parents. They were very fond of John. He gave off great energy, and always showed my family and friends the utmost respect. Through sobs, I told my dad that John died. I didn't hear anything that my dad was saying over the phone. I was too upset.

"Where are you right now?", my dad asked.

"36th and Walnut."

"Get home and call his family and then call us back. Make sure that it really happened before you get yourself all worked up, Angie."

"Dad, there's only one John Todd, III from Bidgeport...it's him...I can feel it."

"Okay, call me. Does Dug know?"

"No. I haven't talked to him yet. He's at band practice. I'll call you in a little bit, Dad."

I stood on the corner for a little while longer, attempting to process all of the emotions that were running through me. I was going to walk the nine blocks to get home, but decided it was in my best interest to hop in a cab. A cab driver pulled over as soon as I put my hand up...he could see that something was wrong. He asked if I was okay once I closed the door, and I told him that my friend had just died in the war. More sobbing. He drops me off in front of our buiding, and told me not to worry about the fare. I will never forget that man.

I walk up to our apartment, and D isn't home yet. I pick up the phone to call John's family, and his aunt answered. Now I know that it MUST be true. John's mom was the only one who ever picked up the phone, with the rare chance that his younger brother, Steve, would pick it up if their mom wasn't home. I asked his aunt if it was true, and she said yes. I asked how Colleen was doing...I can't even imagine how she felt. His aunt had told me that John and Colleen decided to have a small ceremony with their family two days before he was deployed. She told me all of the details of the viewing and funeral, and I asked her to relay my condolences to the family. Ok, now it's time for me to prepare for yet another funeral. Another friend's funeral. FUCK!

I'm still pissed. Upset behind the fact that while we were attending your viewing, two of your so-called childhood "friends" broke into you and you wife's apartment and stole your video games and computers to sell for dope. I'm pissed that you joined the military, hoping that you would be able to get the money to go back to art school. I'm pissed that you only got to spend two days with Colleen as husband and wife. I talked to your grandfather at your funeral, and he thanked me. I never knew that grandpop knew who I was...but you knew who I was, and I appreciated that. When everyone misconstrued your poem "Angie's Words" that you spit at The Gathering, as you and I being together. Making assumptions instead of asking what was real. Talk about women and their drama, it was all men in this case. But I knew what it meant, and I thank you for taking my advice to you about a lost love, and writing a beautiful poem.

John, it's been years...about 6, and all that I can say again is thank you for making an appearance in my life. You have taught me much, and I will always be grateful to you for that. You will never be forgotten, and I vow to stand true to the words that I said to your mother, and continue to ensure that I do my part to make sure that your spirit never dies...R.I.P., brother.

Peace.Love.
Ms. Angie Lee

The work behind the painting...

Many of you have seen this painting in our home, whether in one of our places in Philly, or in New York. Everyone loves this. My cousin, Terrance, always looks for it when he comes over. I just want to give props to Dephonate for taking the time to paint this, and help to decorate home with our own artwork. I have watched the process and how your hands have created, continuously, and always surprised me with your next project. From a photo, to a rotation, to a graphic, to a painting on this canvas, thank you.


painted by D.A. Hamid, acrylic

Some pics fo dat ass....

On the rooftop, playing with the camera

















The other half:











On top of the world (superhero pose):














Master of many:















What....?

Now, to mom and dad...Mama and Papa don't take no mess

I also feel as though I owe a thank you to my parents...for allowing me to become my own person, and not breaking my neck when I know that you really wanted to.

To: My Dad

I want to thank you for being there. You showed me exactly what true dedication to the family was. I'm aware of the sacrifices that you've made in order for me to have a better life. You going without in order for us to have. Sacrificing bills getting paid, so that I could take a trip to Canada, or England, or dance class, or art class, whatever. Thank you for not allowing me to be lazy, and telling me not to be embarrassed to buy a cookbook. Thank you for allowing me to fly away, although I know it was difficult to let me go. Thank you for challenging me to find what I love to do, and discover a way to get paid for it. Thank you for teaching me the importance of a good handshake and eye contact. Thank you for finding time to make it to my basketball games, and instead of watching the game on tv, taking me to the park to shoot hoops. Thank you for teaching me the importance of faith, and not religion...and the fine line that separates the two. Thank you for the books that you've given me. Thank you for the deep conversations. And thank you for taking your days off of work to drive me into the city to go to I. Goldberg to buy cargo pants. Thank you for allowing me to speak my mind, but teaching me to express myself with respect. Thank you for not flipping out like I knew you wanted to when I was a teenager running amok. Thank you for the cards that were written. Thank you for teaching me what being a true friend really means.

To: My Mom

Now, to my girl. What can I say? I guess that I can only start by saying that I am so grateful to have a mother that I can tell anything to. No matter how cringeworthy the news was, I knew you would always listen, and never judge. I can only imagine how many times you wanted to buy yourself something, and you put us first. I thank you for encouraging me to always strive to reach my full potential, and to walk with my head up high, with focus, regardless of who was talking shit behind my back. Thank you for making a house a home, no matter where we were. Thank you for calling me on the phone when I needed someone the most, just to sing me a song. Thank you for teaching me how to be good to people, but never let them mistake my kindness for weakness. Thank you for reminding me just how important it is to give...even if you don't have much. Thank you for letting me rant, but putting me in my place if I'm wrong.

To: You Both

Thank you for saying no when enough was enough. It taught me not to be a princess. Thank you for putting your family first, despite everything that went on. Who's to say what is going to happen, but I love you both tremendously. Thank you for the encouragement when I told you that we were moving overseas at 19 years old. I knew how hard it was for you...but thank you for always telling me, and doing everything in your power, to ensure that I have my own dreams. Here's to the grind...and you.

Ummi says...a thank you to Ms. Rabiah

I love my mother in law, whom we call Ummi. I feel as though in the midst of everything that is taking place, and us thanking everyone for their help in getting this site launched, I really owe her a lot more than this blog. But it's a start. So, to you, Ms. Rabiah, thank you...

Thank you for the sacrifices that you've made, not just for us, but to your whole family, and those that I don't even know of. Thank you for allowing us to have a friendship outside of your son's and my relationship. Thank you for being the shoulder to cry on, and the mediator when emotions got out of hand. Thank you for the messages of wisdom. Thank you for the e-mails and phone calls. Thank you for always encouraging us to be creative and to stay motivated and focused. Thank you for being the epitome of what a strong, Black woman represents. You remind me of Alice Walker. Thank you for all of the photos and the love. Thank you for trusting that we could make our own decisions. Thank you for being you, and defining exactly what determination, perseverance, and dedication truly mean. I love you....

Gentrification...just another word for displacement

I'm all about the revitalization of a community, but not if it is going to neglect to recognize those that have created that community. Not if there is going to be no assistance to those that have lost their job, home, minds and families. Not if kids are going to be homeless, and be expected to perform to certain standards. Not if old people are going to be duped out of a home that they worked hard to obtain, just so that some real estate investor can come in, do minimal renovations, and advertise these as condos. I am not in support of this if the new faces that walk into this community are afraid of the people that are already here. Walk in the street, don't go out after dark, ride your bike everywhere, and refuse to support the community. Can't go preaching if you're not practicing. So, they come in, do what they do, and in the meantime, have no comprehension as to how it's affecting everyone else.

I was reading a newspaper article a few months back about a landlord in Brooklyn that placed dead cats under the stairs, in the hopes that the rank smell wafting through the building would drive the rent-stabilized, low-income tenants out. I hear conversations all of the time in Bed-Stuy about tenants going to court with their landlord; or shall I say slumlord? All of a sudden, I see cops everywhere. Where were they when little kids were dying on the streets, and when their dreams were being interrupted by gunshots? Usually po po's just harassing someone around here anyway. On my way to the train, I see families getting evicted..I wish I could do more. Where do they go? I don't even think they care where these people go. As long as they can multiply their earning potential. Providing sub par food...no joke, I have seen people buying expired meat in some grocery stores around here. They're usually old and don't know any better. I try to help them. Help them to get something fresh. Most people aren't even aware that their food stamps are accepted at the flea market, so that they can get something fresh to eat.

Dug and I met a guy in the grocery store a while back, and we started talking about what was starting to happen in Bed-Stuy. His friend's mother had just passed away, and his friend was willed her brownstone. He sold it for $100,000.00. He went to Florida, thinking he was hood rich, and went broke in three months. Now he's back in Bed-Stuy, sleeping on couches. I know damn well he could've gotten a million for that brownstone building, but I don't think he knew any better. If we're going to allow people to come in and take over, don't people deserve to at least have some assistance in making a sound decision? We really need to come together, start helping people invest in the long term...not just settle for instant gratification. Those with those skills, we need to offer our resources to others that may not have them. The one's who need a miracle to happen. Crabs in a bucket...not acceptable.

Cometogether.Cometogether.Cometogether.Cometogether.Cometogether.Cometogether.Cometogether.Cometogether.
Peace.Love.
Ang

us...

Train Riding...Brainstorming...

On the way home...Philly See with your "I", not with your hand

My ambivalence towards our coffee maker....

Happy Sunday, good people. Ms. Angie Lee back on here again just letting you know the deal. So, every morning, one of us brews the coffee. This morning, I was up first, so I went into the kitchen to get it started. Pour the water into the coffee maker, measure the grounds, hit the power button...nothing. The machine wouldn't even turn on. I started playing around with the cord, and then the electrical panel. Still, nothing. Haha, universe...this is very funny. On to plan b...hit up the dudes at the bodega. It's only 7.45 in the morning, so I'm quite sure that the brew is pretty fresh. The only problem is making sure that it stays hot enough for the other half when he gets up. We don't do the microwave thing, so that's out of the question. I put the jeans and shoes on...time to head to the corner store.

As I walk out, I see Steve. We exchange words..."good morning, Steve"..."bless, Sista" is always his response. I know that he has to be pretty pissed to have to clean up after the neighbors that threw a bbq yesterday. Assholes. Get over your self-entitlement and clean up after yourselves. Stop being so lazy. And stop leaving the door to our building open @ 2.oo am. We live in the hood, not Maine, so recognize that shit. Kids live here.

Back to the subject...I realize how beautiful it is outside as I'm walking to the store. A lot of people are already out and about, but everyone seems to be taking their time this morning, even me. I get to the bodega...we say our good mornings, and I ask for a large black. "Sugar?" "No, thank you, just the coffee."

On the way back to the apartment, I decide to take a stroll through the park. The same old men that were there playing chess yesterday are there again first thing this morning. They're both concentrating hard. A few kids are scattered about, playing on the jungle gym, and there are a couple of groups of people chillin' on the benches. The park is a mess from yesterday's block party/basketball game, but I spotted the cleaning crew coming in. One of the women was on her cell phone, laughing, so it doesn't seem as though she's too upset about the disaster that was created.

I spot a patch of fully blossomed tulips. I detour and go observe. I decided to pick one to take home. It's a beautiful, vibrant, peach color with a yellow tint to it, with the perfect green stem. I put my nose to the petal, and take a deep sniff. I love the smell of flowers, although sometimes the pollen makes me sneeze. Anyway, as I walk through the rest of the park, I twirl the stem in my hands, completely oblivious as to how hot the coffee is in my right hand. I get to our building; Steve is still outside, this time chatting it up with one of our neighbors. He seems to be in better spirits now. Good.

I get to the apartment, open the door, and D is awake. Perfect. No need to worry if the coffee is going to stay hot. It's now the perfect temperature. I divide the coffee, add a little French Vanilla cream...it's time to sip. So, thank you coffee maker for screwing up on me today. It forced me to go outside and take a walk. Thank you because I now have a beautiful flower sitting in water at the kitchen table. Thank you, because maybe now I can have a valid reason for buying that espresso machine that I've been eying for years. Thank you for our time together, but it's now time to put you to rest, Krups. But, I am kind of upset that I didn't get a chance to make a brew one last time before you croaked on me.

Until next time kiddies, I'm out....

Peace.Love.
Ang

Top 21 Albums we're playing @ the crib...as of now

Artist / Album


1. Dephonate/ Some Assembly Required

2. Flying Lotus/ L.A. EP 1X3

3. Sir Froderick/ I'm In a Bobbysuit

4. Maker/ Shooting the Breeze

5. Nina Simone/ The Essential Nina Simone

6. K-Os/ Joyful Rebellion

7. Dilla/ Donuts

8. Nightmares on Wax/ Smokers Delight

9. De La Soul /AOI: Mosaic Thump

10.The Beatles/ Rubber Soul

11.Gang Starr/ Hard to Earn

12.C.R.A.C. Knuckles/ The Piece Talks

13.Hanif-Jamiyl/ Hydro

14.Erykah Badu/ Mama's Gun

15.Capone and Noreaga/ The War Report

16.Portishead/ Numb

17.The Roots/ Illadelph Halflife

18.Slum Village/ Fanastic, Vol. 2

19.Thievery Corporation/ Audio Alchemy 2

20.Sound Providers/ True Indeed

21.RJD2/ Deadringer

Self-Diagnosis...

Got the recharge button on after I took a nap. Whew, I needed one. Beautiful weather...I think I'm doing everything on the roof today...eating, creating, photo shooting...all that good stuff. Knowing us, we'll probably sleep on the roof tonight. Might as well soak it up before it gets too cold again, or too hot. Though it's never to hot or cold to rock a t-shirt. Here I go again....

Got this shooting pain in the back of my head. Maybe it's a result of all of the head trauma. Concussions, stitches...you know. I tend to get into accidents if I don't take my time...or look up. I'm short, so head injuries like to pop up and haunt me when the universe feels like playing tricks on me. Of course, I always think it's an aneurysm or something crazy. My mom always told me I should be an actress...always going to the extreme with that kind of stuff. Never thinking it could be because the other half is in a mood today, or I've been boppin' my head too much on the A train listening to music...to me, it's always back to the aneurysm. Whatever the case may be, I'm ready to hit the roof up. Waiting for the kiddies to get here.... I think I need to bake Baby those cookies....

When I lack sleep...

I write a blog. What a day, what a day. Sometimes I find myself in a deep, contemplative state of mind. Like, where are all of them? What are they doing? What's the plan? Not the plan for a night out...but the ultimate plan, the bigger picture. 3.22 am, and the same people are still in the same spot, on the same block...doing the same thing. 15 hours doing nothing. Can't blame them, can't blame me...is there anyone to blame, really? Complacency. Hmmm, when is the right time to make moves? My answer to that question is simple...it's always time to make moves. It's always time to inspire, create, dream and continue to keep our eye on the prize. I learned a long time ago not to have any expectations of any one thing or person. You only wind up being disappointed in the end. However, I don't see this as negativity; it's my reality. I'm not only motivated for me, but everyone else that is involved in my life...and those that I'm not even aware of. Worked hard all day, to come back home and work some more. I do this for those that I know need me. We're doing a photo shoot with Khadija, Tasia and Shane today...can't wait. It's great to have youth involved. They only inspire us to continue to create. This venture means so much more to us than a dollar. It means that we can help those who may not necessarily be able to help themselves. Our families need us. After all of the hard work, setbacks, sacrifice, and drama (a lot of it was mine, I admit), it finally looks like it's coming together. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to go out and celebrate just yet. I'm going to continue to grind and keep plugging in. I know that my words won't fall upon deaf ears. Good night, my loves...I'll see you in the morning.

Come Together...

Good morning everybody. Hope that all is well in your world. Wondering what "Come Together" means? Well, with all that's going on right now, I feel that NOW is the time to all work together. Create. With that being said, I'm looking for people to interview. Musicians, artists, comedians, poets, whatever. As we're getting this website up, we're hoping that we can promote up and coming talent. If you're a musician, we'd love to feature your music. Of course, I already have a couple of people in mind, but if you're interested, I don't discriminate. I can definitely get around to all of you heads in New York, Philly and Baltimore anytime...but to any of you who don't live in these cities, we can always link up on the Skype joint. No excuses. It's time to build.

And ladies, I really need you. Have a bevy of male models, but not enough females. To our Philly fam, don't be surprised if we show up on your doorstep with a t-shirt and camera. Sounds crazy, but you know how we do. To all of the ladies in New York that I've talked to, let's get this started. Alright y'all, for now, I'm out.

Peace.Love.
Ang

Puttin' in work...

What's good, y'all? Hoping that this shift in weather has lifted everyone's spirits. Just wanted to keep everyone updated with regards to the t-shirts. D's been working on the website hardcore, but all is coming together wonderfully. We've been brainstorming, creating, and hoping that all of you will love the designs once everything launches. We've both been grinding for so long, there's such a sense of urgency to get this poppin'.

I'd like to thank Flying Lotus for wearing our design at his show on Friday, April 17, 2009 @ The American Museum of Natural History. Big shout out to Ori and Edwin for comin' through and representing us. We're always looking for people to model tees, so please hit me up if you're interested. Please take a look at some of the photos when you get a moment. Oh, and just wanted to say what up to our Philly heads...y'all know who you are. Don't sleep...go check out Rarebreed and support the family. I'll keep everyone posted on the progress...but I promise, it's coming soon.

Peace.Love.
Ang