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
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
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
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.
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...
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...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
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
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.
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....
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
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
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
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
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
Saturday, April 25, 2009
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....
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.
Friday, April 24, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
