Music is life. If you ever doubt that, watch this.
via Vashtie's blog
4/17/2012
4/02/2012
National Poetry Month
April is National Poetry Month - And I know that you are super excited, but please contain yourself for a moment.
It should go without saying, that Nikki Giovanni is the best poet ever in life...
Okay fine, I'll put my personal opinion aside and just write the post already.
If you know anything about me, one of the main things you know is my obsession with Edgar Allan Poe's short stories: The Fall of the House of Usher, The Tale-Tell Heart, Hop Frog, The Purloined Letter, and it goes on and on and on. Although most people don't associate him with poems and since this is the perfect month to showcase one...here we go:
A Dream Within A Dream (1850)
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
And how can you talk about National Poetry Month without mentioning Maya Angelou? You can't. But, since her poems tend to run very long, I'll give the following so that you can go explore on your own:
Biography
Official Website
List of Poems
It should go without saying, that Nikki Giovanni is the best poet ever in life...
Okay fine, I'll put my personal opinion aside and just write the post already.
If you know anything about me, one of the main things you know is my obsession with Edgar Allan Poe's short stories: The Fall of the House of Usher, The Tale-Tell Heart, Hop Frog, The Purloined Letter, and it goes on and on and on. Although most people don't associate him with poems and since this is the perfect month to showcase one...here we go:
A Dream Within A Dream (1850)
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
And how can you talk about National Poetry Month without mentioning Maya Angelou? You can't. But, since her poems tend to run very long, I'll give the following so that you can go explore on your own:
Biography
Official Website
List of Poems
3/27/2012
For The Greater Good - Literary Goodies
You can celebrate the joy of reading in any way you wish; I choose to wear it on my back and put it to my ear...
"The Color Purple" T-shirt
"Edgar Allan Poe" Pop Art iPhone case
"The Color Purple" T-shirt
"Edgar Allan Poe" Pop Art iPhone case
3/26/2012
Video Inspiration #2 - Kanye + Spike Jonze
I listen to music...alot. I watch music videos...even more. Sometimes I watch a video that sparks a story in my mind. It happened once before...HERE. And it happened again recently.
I know this song is rather old but that should make no difference. Good music is good music. Good video directing is good video directing.
I...LOVE...THIS...SONG!! Between this one and Addiction, I'm the biggest Kanye fan ever. But, since Vashtie Kola did a cover video for Addiction, I thought it would be overkill to do a story to it too.
There were 3 seperate videos made for the Flashing Lights song, but the one below is the third and final version. Spike Jonze and Kanye did the directing for this one. I have always been inspired by the simplicity of these visuals yet the depth of the song and so I wrote a short story about it...like to hear it? Hear ya go:
Penelope was my real name, but no one ever called me that, especially not him. His names for me were something we shared in secret and they almost always were adjectives. Gorgeous, Sexy, Adorable, Delectable. I really liked the last one. He was creative in that way. Every Thursday, he came cruising by in one of those expensive, hard to pronounce cars of his to pick me up. The first time I met him, he told me we were in the backseat of a Landaulet. The second time, a Pagani is what drove us to the hotel downtown. By the 5th Thursday, I was a pro at identifying Andrei Gikhlov, Russian billionaire, from 100 yards away.
“Turn around and face me.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, now take the rest of your clothes off.” He commanded. I did what he wanted then looked out our villa window and examined the blue waves, rocking and splashing against one another. It looked electric and surreal. We had taken his private plane to Florida for the weekend and although it was my first time on a plane, I tried my best to hide the nervousness. Andrei said this was a special occasion and it would also be worth my time so I stepped out of my comfort zone.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.
“Of course. What I don’t understand is how your wife doesn’t appreciate something like this?” The sky was getting dark but the beach dwellers didn’t budge. I removed my black, lace brassiere but he wasn’t paying attention.
“There’s no tangible value in this, that’s why.” He said to himself, staring at the wedding band on his left finger. “If she can’t take that black sand, that clear water, that orange sunset home and brag about how much it cost, she has no need for it.”
“Sounds like a spoiled bitch to me. Not someone who can do the things that I can do for you.” I crawled across the bed sheets and planted myself between his legs.
“Remember I said we needed to talk about us?” His tone became serious.
“I remember. That’s the whole point of this trip isn’t it?” I giggled in response. He got up and put his shirt and pants back on.
“I’ll be right back.” He said and quickly left the room. I dived to the other side of the bed, reaching for the phone.
“Hey. Are you sleep?” I asked Shayla after dialing her number.
“Sort of. What do you want?”
“I’m at his villa.”
“And?”
“And, he just left the room. I think he’s going to propose when he gets back. I told you my time was coming. You gotta pay your dues, that’s what I always say.” I couldn’t stop smiling. Who knew this was the way my life would turn out. I was born to a drug addicted mother and when I was fourteen, she and my eleven year old brother both died from an overdose. I became a runaway instead of a ward of the state. A week after I turned fifteen, I saved this woman from a brutal beating by a “customer” and that same day she took me in and treated me like a little sister, eventually showing me how to make my own money.
“Honey, I told you I don’t think he’s going to do that.”
“Why else do you think he would bring me all the way out here?”
“To kill you maybe. Not to propose. You’re not the wifey type.”
“I deserve this. It’s gonna happen. I can’t keep living with you for the rest of my life. So, your jealousy needs to just take a back seat.” I told her.
“What was it he said exactly, Miss I Got it All Figured Out?” Shayla asked.
“I told you. Last night, he said it was wonderful spending time with me and he wished the night would never end.”
“And you translate that to ‘I want to marry you’? Was it before or after your…um…lovemaking?” At first she burst into laughing until realizing that I only remained silent on the other end.
“Listen to me. I put a knife in your purse before you left. The one that cute little man gave me with his initials on it.”
“The one you stole from that cute little man.” I corrected.
“Watch yourself honey.” Just as she hung up, Andrei returned to the room with a bottle of water. My hand was in my bag, checking to see if Shayla was telling the truth.
“I have a business meeting in the morning, then a flight back to Russia, back to my wife. Damn, why can’t life always be this easy. I hope you liked it here. I wanted our last night to be fun.”
“Last night? Fun?” I smiled weakly and darted my eyes all around the room. I looked for a ring box, some flowers, something that indicated this moment would display the significance it was supposed to. But he just stood at the door, bottled water in hand, black suit pants unbuttoned and white collared shirt open.
“You still want to marry me right? We still love each other and you’re not leaving without me?” I asked.
“What are you talking about? You thought I loved you?”
“You said that, didn’t you mean it?”
“Pretty girl, I never said I loved you. You’re a prostitute.” He said in an almost gentle tone. I fell down on the edge of the bed, then slid to the floor. It took several seconds before the tears flowed visibly.
“I’m supposed to just continue living like this? Cold as stone?” He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look at me. He was too busy pulling money from his wallet and putting his shoes back on. He placed 8 - $100 dollar bills next to my ear, on the bed, kissed my forehead and headed toward the door.
“Oh by the way beautiful, there’s a plane ticket for you at the front desk under the name ‘Lovely’. I think it leaves in an hour. I’m going down to the bar. It was fun…really.” I took a deep breath and wiped my face. I rose and walked to him with confidence. I kissed his lips softly, then shoved the monogrammed carving knife into his side and dragged it across his stomach. Behind me I heard the sound of the calming ocean violently thrashing its waves onto the shore.
I know this song is rather old but that should make no difference. Good music is good music. Good video directing is good video directing.
I...LOVE...THIS...SONG!! Between this one and Addiction, I'm the biggest Kanye fan ever. But, since Vashtie Kola did a cover video for Addiction, I thought it would be overkill to do a story to it too.
There were 3 seperate videos made for the Flashing Lights song, but the one below is the third and final version. Spike Jonze and Kanye did the directing for this one. I have always been inspired by the simplicity of these visuals yet the depth of the song and so I wrote a short story about it...like to hear it? Hear ya go:
Penelope was my real name, but no one ever called me that, especially not him. His names for me were something we shared in secret and they almost always were adjectives. Gorgeous, Sexy, Adorable, Delectable. I really liked the last one. He was creative in that way. Every Thursday, he came cruising by in one of those expensive, hard to pronounce cars of his to pick me up. The first time I met him, he told me we were in the backseat of a Landaulet. The second time, a Pagani is what drove us to the hotel downtown. By the 5th Thursday, I was a pro at identifying Andrei Gikhlov, Russian billionaire, from 100 yards away.
“Turn around and face me.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, now take the rest of your clothes off.” He commanded. I did what he wanted then looked out our villa window and examined the blue waves, rocking and splashing against one another. It looked electric and surreal. We had taken his private plane to Florida for the weekend and although it was my first time on a plane, I tried my best to hide the nervousness. Andrei said this was a special occasion and it would also be worth my time so I stepped out of my comfort zone.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.
“Of course. What I don’t understand is how your wife doesn’t appreciate something like this?” The sky was getting dark but the beach dwellers didn’t budge. I removed my black, lace brassiere but he wasn’t paying attention.
“There’s no tangible value in this, that’s why.” He said to himself, staring at the wedding band on his left finger. “If she can’t take that black sand, that clear water, that orange sunset home and brag about how much it cost, she has no need for it.”
“Sounds like a spoiled bitch to me. Not someone who can do the things that I can do for you.” I crawled across the bed sheets and planted myself between his legs.
“Remember I said we needed to talk about us?” His tone became serious.
“I remember. That’s the whole point of this trip isn’t it?” I giggled in response. He got up and put his shirt and pants back on.
“I’ll be right back.” He said and quickly left the room. I dived to the other side of the bed, reaching for the phone.
“Hey. Are you sleep?” I asked Shayla after dialing her number.
“Sort of. What do you want?”
“I’m at his villa.”
“And?”
“And, he just left the room. I think he’s going to propose when he gets back. I told you my time was coming. You gotta pay your dues, that’s what I always say.” I couldn’t stop smiling. Who knew this was the way my life would turn out. I was born to a drug addicted mother and when I was fourteen, she and my eleven year old brother both died from an overdose. I became a runaway instead of a ward of the state. A week after I turned fifteen, I saved this woman from a brutal beating by a “customer” and that same day she took me in and treated me like a little sister, eventually showing me how to make my own money.
“Honey, I told you I don’t think he’s going to do that.”
“Why else do you think he would bring me all the way out here?”
“To kill you maybe. Not to propose. You’re not the wifey type.”
“I deserve this. It’s gonna happen. I can’t keep living with you for the rest of my life. So, your jealousy needs to just take a back seat.” I told her.
“What was it he said exactly, Miss I Got it All Figured Out?” Shayla asked.
“I told you. Last night, he said it was wonderful spending time with me and he wished the night would never end.”
“And you translate that to ‘I want to marry you’? Was it before or after your…um…lovemaking?” At first she burst into laughing until realizing that I only remained silent on the other end.
“Listen to me. I put a knife in your purse before you left. The one that cute little man gave me with his initials on it.”
“The one you stole from that cute little man.” I corrected.
“Watch yourself honey.” Just as she hung up, Andrei returned to the room with a bottle of water. My hand was in my bag, checking to see if Shayla was telling the truth.
“I have a business meeting in the morning, then a flight back to Russia, back to my wife. Damn, why can’t life always be this easy. I hope you liked it here. I wanted our last night to be fun.”
“Last night? Fun?” I smiled weakly and darted my eyes all around the room. I looked for a ring box, some flowers, something that indicated this moment would display the significance it was supposed to. But he just stood at the door, bottled water in hand, black suit pants unbuttoned and white collared shirt open.
“You still want to marry me right? We still love each other and you’re not leaving without me?” I asked.
“What are you talking about? You thought I loved you?”
“You said that, didn’t you mean it?”
“Pretty girl, I never said I loved you. You’re a prostitute.” He said in an almost gentle tone. I fell down on the edge of the bed, then slid to the floor. It took several seconds before the tears flowed visibly.
“I’m supposed to just continue living like this? Cold as stone?” He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look at me. He was too busy pulling money from his wallet and putting his shoes back on. He placed 8 - $100 dollar bills next to my ear, on the bed, kissed my forehead and headed toward the door.
“Oh by the way beautiful, there’s a plane ticket for you at the front desk under the name ‘Lovely’. I think it leaves in an hour. I’m going down to the bar. It was fun…really.” I took a deep breath and wiped my face. I rose and walked to him with confidence. I kissed his lips softly, then shoved the monogrammed carving knife into his side and dragged it across his stomach. Behind me I heard the sound of the calming ocean violently thrashing its waves onto the shore.
2/10/2012
Magazine Idols
Even as the magazine world is practically vaporizing and the physical print is disappearing, I still have love for the journalists and editors that made the culture what it virtually is today.
I have several magazine idols that I'm inspired by and have admiration for: And yes, these are ranked in order.
1. Toure (Awesome journalist!!!!!!)
2. Elliot Wilson (formerly EIC of XXL Magazine)
3. Noah Callahan-Bever (Complex Magazine)
4. Samantha Moeller - founder of MissBehave Magazine (although it's not in circulation anymore)
Toure is the mofo man!!! He has been around the block and circled it three times over. Earning his stars and stripes from Rolling Stone, The Village Voice, Vibe magazine and now multimedia outlets such as BET, he is the epitome of what I deem a successful journalist. I look to his words of wisdom often and have attempted to follow in his footsteps.
Toure
For some reason unknown to me, his website is now nonexistent but here's a sample of some of his work...here.
Elliot
Now, let me premise by saying that I didn't follow everything that Elliot did before going to the XXL Magazine. But once he was named Editor in Chief, I did my little research back into his prior accomplishment and must say, I was thoroughly impressed. (Source Magazine, Ego Trip)
Noah
I don't know if I have the space to inform you on how great of a writer and creative visionary he is. This man has been in the hip hop arena for 1,000 years and still continues to hold it down strong. Currently, he is the Editor in Chief of Complex Magazine (which I absolutely love) and has been holding down the hip hop journalism since about 1997. He has an entire website dedicated to his prior work as a journalist, before Complex, and many of his entries would be intriguing for the 90s hip hop loving era...here.
Samantha
A time before her time. She came through with MissBehave Magazine when it was most needed. Due to communication problems among the big dogs, she ended up leaving and dipping into the online frenzy with The Hipster Mom followed by Family Freakout. She is super cool, super trendy and a person to look out for.
I have several magazine idols that I'm inspired by and have admiration for: And yes, these are ranked in order.
1. Toure (Awesome journalist!!!!!!)
2. Elliot Wilson (formerly EIC of XXL Magazine)
3. Noah Callahan-Bever (Complex Magazine)
4. Samantha Moeller - founder of MissBehave Magazine (although it's not in circulation anymore)
Toure is the mofo man!!! He has been around the block and circled it three times over. Earning his stars and stripes from Rolling Stone, The Village Voice, Vibe magazine and now multimedia outlets such as BET, he is the epitome of what I deem a successful journalist. I look to his words of wisdom often and have attempted to follow in his footsteps.
Toure
For some reason unknown to me, his website is now nonexistent but here's a sample of some of his work...here.
Elliot
Now, let me premise by saying that I didn't follow everything that Elliot did before going to the XXL Magazine. But once he was named Editor in Chief, I did my little research back into his prior accomplishment and must say, I was thoroughly impressed. (Source Magazine, Ego Trip)
Noah
I don't know if I have the space to inform you on how great of a writer and creative visionary he is. This man has been in the hip hop arena for 1,000 years and still continues to hold it down strong. Currently, he is the Editor in Chief of Complex Magazine (which I absolutely love) and has been holding down the hip hop journalism since about 1997. He has an entire website dedicated to his prior work as a journalist, before Complex, and many of his entries would be intriguing for the 90s hip hop loving era...here.
Samantha
A time before her time. She came through with MissBehave Magazine when it was most needed. Due to communication problems among the big dogs, she ended up leaving and dipping into the online frenzy with The Hipster Mom followed by Family Freakout. She is super cool, super trendy and a person to look out for.
1/14/2012
Video Inspiration - Kendrick & Vashtie
When I first saw this Vashtie Kola-directed video for Kendrick Lamar's song, ADHD, I was inspired to start writing a short story about it. I never finished it though. It was a short burst of inspiration, then I left it alone. Well, I just found it the other day and decided to work on it.
The neat thing is that I wanted to do something super creative with it. It's a quick story and one that didn't involve a difficult plot by far. So, I decided to write the whole thing through dialogue. Whoa right?
Sorry that it's not timely, but I'll stick with the saying "better late than never" as my excuse. Or maybe I just want you to watch the Kendrick Lamar video one more time (as my 65 million other posts and twitter updates didn't do it for you.) Enjoy. Or not.
Miranda: “We were the peppers in a field of salt. Even in this millennium there were still schools with 95% Caucasian student bodies and oh how fortunate and indebted we all were to land at this one. Ronson was the “black quarterback”, Rochelle, the chemist, Bunny, the mathematician, Jeremiah, the swimmer, Vegas, the artist and I, the writer. Labeled the cream of the crop. We stuck together like our lives depended on it. On a typical Saturday night, I always asked Ronson to come over, which meant Jeremiah, Vegas, Rochelle and Bunny had to come too. Sometimes I hated when Ronson dismissed me like I didn’t matter, but after all this time, I’ve learned to understand. We argue. He’s overprotective and I’m jealous, but in the end, I know that he would die for me. Most of the time we had fun together and I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to date. And, we had been dating for almost a year before it happened. That particular night, his crew had all biked to my house and Bunny and Rochelle were already here.
“Hey guys.”
“What’s up Miranda!”
“Keep it moving Jeremiah. Hey babe. What, your boyfriend can’t get kisses now?”
“Of course you can!”
“Yo.”
“Hey Vegas. Come in.”
“Rochelle, can you grab me a beer and Bunny what’s up with the music? I swear Miranda, where would you guys be if it weren’t for me? Everything okay with you love?”
“I’m fine. Just remind them not to break anything. My parents will be back early in the morning and I’m not trying to be Esther the Explainer.”
“I know. Give me another kiss.”
“Ronson, I need help with the drinks over here.”
“Why does Rochelle always act so helpless around you? And why do you keep feeding into it?”
“You tell me Miranda. She’s your friend. Aww, don’t pout. I’m not interested in Rochelle, her flashy red lipstick or her attention-seeking tight clothes.”
“Yet, you’re always smiling in her face, sitting next to her in class and setting up her lines for her.”
“Listen to Miss Perfect. Rattling about her displeasure at our drug use like she’s a saint.”
“Stop it Ronson.”
“Can’t take the heat?”
“Where are you going? Go ahead, walk away, that’s the man thing to do!”
“So, what’s new?”
“Vegas move, I have to go talk to Ronson.”
“In a minute.”
“Since when did you learn how to talk?”
“I asked what’s new with you?”
“Nothing Vegas geesh. What’s up with you these days? You didn’t come out to the game last night. Ronson scored three touchdowns.”
“I heard. I had an art thing. Thanks for letting us crash Miranda. We kind of don’t even ask anymore.”
“No you don’t. And what’s with this new you? I mean, it’s nice to hear your voice, but it’s unexpected. Foreign even.”
“Can I talk to you in the kitchen?”
“Huh?”
“The kitchen Miranda. You don’t have to be so shocked. I’m not a psycho, I’m not going to murder you or anything.”
“Maybe not today.”
“That hurt.”
“I’m sorry. But Vegas you’re usually really quiet. We all know you’re smart and super creative and so much of all these things sometimes, that it can be weird.”
“Just come in here please.”
“I know where my kitchen is, you don’t have to guide me like a child. So, what’s up Vegas, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Then why do you look so sad? Is it the dying artist inside? Ha! Ha ha! But really, your eyes are always so sad.”
“I don’t know why.”
“Well spill it. I’m sure someone’s going to come in here any minute.”
“No they won’t. We could sit in here for hours and they would never notice.”
“Yes they-”
“No they won’t and you know it. As long as they have their vices, they won’t.”
“Is that why you disappear all the time? Whenever we have a party? Do you run off into a little corner and partake of your vices too?”
“My only vice is to watch.”
“Yeah, that’s not weird at all.”
“I’m being honest. My abstract charcoal drawing in the main hall of the school is really of Bunny snorting a line of coke. The cross-hatching image in the library-,”
“The one when you became the youngest recipient of the Guggenheim Award?”
“Is a close-up of Rochelle’s hand when she tried and failed to put ecstasy in Ronson’s vodka one night.”
“What? What!”
“But that’s besides the point.”
“Then what is the damn point already!”
“Why are you with him?”
“With who?”
“Don’t look away.”
“Because you know, I like him a lot.”
“After a year and all you do is ‘like him a lot’?”
“Because it’s been a year that’s why. What’s the point of ending it now? And what does it matter to you. Suddenly you get the nerve to talk to me after all these years as friends and I have to pour my feelings out to you? Vegas, I don’t have time for this.”
“I want to be with you and he doesn’t.”
“What? Come on.”
“I want to be with you and he doesn’t.”
“You’ve said that already and it’s not going to happen. Don’t stand so close. And why are you saying these things? You’re supposed to be his friend. All of ours.”
“I’ve never been a friend to anyone but you.”
“Lies. You support Jeremiah at his swim meets and you helped Bunny prepare for her math dissertation.”
“We’re the only black kids at this college. How can I not?”
“You’re very interesting, I’ll give you that. But ‘be with you’, yeah that’s a bit of a stretch.”
“I’m being honest.”
“Pssh.”
“I’m okay with you pushing me away, your touch is the softest.”
“I’m not doing it to give you pleasure. Stop. Stop! Vegas…I…you can’t…oh my.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That was…your lips are so soft…and warm.”
“Say it. Say you want to be with me too.”
“Um…I can’t…it’s kind of,”
“What are you two doing in here? Get the hell away from her!”
“Don’t push me again.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Stop Ronson, it’s nothing. We were just talking.”
“Why were you so close to her Vegas? You better start talking.”
“I said stop pushing me.”
“Or what?”
“Ronson stop! You’re high, you need to pull it together!”
“Yo! Stop it! Ronson this is your boy.”
“Get off me Jeremiah, you didn’t see what I saw.”
Jeremiah attempted to interject but he was knocked down too. Vegas took it. He deserved it and knew so. But while he was face down on the floor with Ronson beating the back of his head, something happened. It was instant; an upheaval of something buried deep inside. He suddenly rose with immeasurable strength, knocking Ronson on his back. He grabbed a Hanaita Damascus knife from the counter and without thought, thrust it deep into Ronson’s chest. It sounded more like it was plunging into a grapefruit. It was a surreal moment. Something out of a movie. Something you only hear about but never experience. He took the knife out, punctured the chest again and again and again. In the background, he was sure there were screams and gestures and voices, but in his head he heard nothing. Just the squishing sound of the knife going in and out. When he stopped, the knife dropped to the floor and he backed away from Ronson’s dying body. He slid down the cabinet door and he watched him die. He watched him all the way until the police showed up. He had to. After all, it was his vice.
The neat thing is that I wanted to do something super creative with it. It's a quick story and one that didn't involve a difficult plot by far. So, I decided to write the whole thing through dialogue. Whoa right?
Sorry that it's not timely, but I'll stick with the saying "better late than never" as my excuse. Or maybe I just want you to watch the Kendrick Lamar video one more time (as my 65 million other posts and twitter updates didn't do it for you.) Enjoy. Or not.
Miranda: “We were the peppers in a field of salt. Even in this millennium there were still schools with 95% Caucasian student bodies and oh how fortunate and indebted we all were to land at this one. Ronson was the “black quarterback”, Rochelle, the chemist, Bunny, the mathematician, Jeremiah, the swimmer, Vegas, the artist and I, the writer. Labeled the cream of the crop. We stuck together like our lives depended on it. On a typical Saturday night, I always asked Ronson to come over, which meant Jeremiah, Vegas, Rochelle and Bunny had to come too. Sometimes I hated when Ronson dismissed me like I didn’t matter, but after all this time, I’ve learned to understand. We argue. He’s overprotective and I’m jealous, but in the end, I know that he would die for me. Most of the time we had fun together and I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to date. And, we had been dating for almost a year before it happened. That particular night, his crew had all biked to my house and Bunny and Rochelle were already here.
“Hey guys.”
“What’s up Miranda!”
“Keep it moving Jeremiah. Hey babe. What, your boyfriend can’t get kisses now?”
“Of course you can!”
“Yo.”
“Hey Vegas. Come in.”
“Rochelle, can you grab me a beer and Bunny what’s up with the music? I swear Miranda, where would you guys be if it weren’t for me? Everything okay with you love?”
“I’m fine. Just remind them not to break anything. My parents will be back early in the morning and I’m not trying to be Esther the Explainer.”
“I know. Give me another kiss.”
“Ronson, I need help with the drinks over here.”
“Why does Rochelle always act so helpless around you? And why do you keep feeding into it?”
“You tell me Miranda. She’s your friend. Aww, don’t pout. I’m not interested in Rochelle, her flashy red lipstick or her attention-seeking tight clothes.”
“Yet, you’re always smiling in her face, sitting next to her in class and setting up her lines for her.”
“Listen to Miss Perfect. Rattling about her displeasure at our drug use like she’s a saint.”
“Stop it Ronson.”
“Can’t take the heat?”
“Where are you going? Go ahead, walk away, that’s the man thing to do!”
“So, what’s new?”
“Vegas move, I have to go talk to Ronson.”
“In a minute.”
“Since when did you learn how to talk?”
“I asked what’s new with you?”
“Nothing Vegas geesh. What’s up with you these days? You didn’t come out to the game last night. Ronson scored three touchdowns.”
“I heard. I had an art thing. Thanks for letting us crash Miranda. We kind of don’t even ask anymore.”
“No you don’t. And what’s with this new you? I mean, it’s nice to hear your voice, but it’s unexpected. Foreign even.”
“Can I talk to you in the kitchen?”
“Huh?”
“The kitchen Miranda. You don’t have to be so shocked. I’m not a psycho, I’m not going to murder you or anything.”
“Maybe not today.”
“That hurt.”
“I’m sorry. But Vegas you’re usually really quiet. We all know you’re smart and super creative and so much of all these things sometimes, that it can be weird.”
“Just come in here please.”
“I know where my kitchen is, you don’t have to guide me like a child. So, what’s up Vegas, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Then why do you look so sad? Is it the dying artist inside? Ha! Ha ha! But really, your eyes are always so sad.”
“I don’t know why.”
“Well spill it. I’m sure someone’s going to come in here any minute.”
“No they won’t. We could sit in here for hours and they would never notice.”
“Yes they-”
“No they won’t and you know it. As long as they have their vices, they won’t.”
“Is that why you disappear all the time? Whenever we have a party? Do you run off into a little corner and partake of your vices too?”
“My only vice is to watch.”
“Yeah, that’s not weird at all.”
“I’m being honest. My abstract charcoal drawing in the main hall of the school is really of Bunny snorting a line of coke. The cross-hatching image in the library-,”
“The one when you became the youngest recipient of the Guggenheim Award?”
“Is a close-up of Rochelle’s hand when she tried and failed to put ecstasy in Ronson’s vodka one night.”
“What? What!”
“But that’s besides the point.”
“Then what is the damn point already!”
“Why are you with him?”
“With who?”
“Don’t look away.”
“Because you know, I like him a lot.”
“After a year and all you do is ‘like him a lot’?”
“Because it’s been a year that’s why. What’s the point of ending it now? And what does it matter to you. Suddenly you get the nerve to talk to me after all these years as friends and I have to pour my feelings out to you? Vegas, I don’t have time for this.”
“I want to be with you and he doesn’t.”
“What? Come on.”
“I want to be with you and he doesn’t.”
“You’ve said that already and it’s not going to happen. Don’t stand so close. And why are you saying these things? You’re supposed to be his friend. All of ours.”
“I’ve never been a friend to anyone but you.”
“Lies. You support Jeremiah at his swim meets and you helped Bunny prepare for her math dissertation.”
“We’re the only black kids at this college. How can I not?”
“You’re very interesting, I’ll give you that. But ‘be with you’, yeah that’s a bit of a stretch.”
“I’m being honest.”
“Pssh.”
“I’m okay with you pushing me away, your touch is the softest.”
“I’m not doing it to give you pleasure. Stop. Stop! Vegas…I…you can’t…oh my.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That was…your lips are so soft…and warm.”
“Say it. Say you want to be with me too.”
“Um…I can’t…it’s kind of,”
“What are you two doing in here? Get the hell away from her!”
“Don’t push me again.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Stop Ronson, it’s nothing. We were just talking.”
“Why were you so close to her Vegas? You better start talking.”
“I said stop pushing me.”
“Or what?”
“Ronson stop! You’re high, you need to pull it together!”
“Yo! Stop it! Ronson this is your boy.”
“Get off me Jeremiah, you didn’t see what I saw.”
Jeremiah attempted to interject but he was knocked down too. Vegas took it. He deserved it and knew so. But while he was face down on the floor with Ronson beating the back of his head, something happened. It was instant; an upheaval of something buried deep inside. He suddenly rose with immeasurable strength, knocking Ronson on his back. He grabbed a Hanaita Damascus knife from the counter and without thought, thrust it deep into Ronson’s chest. It sounded more like it was plunging into a grapefruit. It was a surreal moment. Something out of a movie. Something you only hear about but never experience. He took the knife out, punctured the chest again and again and again. In the background, he was sure there were screams and gestures and voices, but in his head he heard nothing. Just the squishing sound of the knife going in and out. When he stopped, the knife dropped to the floor and he backed away from Ronson’s dying body. He slid down the cabinet door and he watched him die. He watched him all the way until the police showed up. He had to. After all, it was his vice.
1/05/2012
Learning my Lesson with Fables
I had a little book of Aesop's fables when I was a kid, but of course being a kid, the book was very basic and had a small number of the actual fables. They were the popular ones like: the Fox and the Grapes, the Ant and the Grasshopper, the Boy who cried Wolf, etc.
Recently, my fascination for the fables crept up again and I was able to read all 584 of them. (They are really short so don't think I'm a fancy scholar or anything!)
I wanted to share a couple that were not only a great story but provided a great lesson as well:
The Lion and the Farmer's Daughter
A story about a lion and a young woman, which teaches us not to indulge our desires.
A lion who had fallen in love with a young woman went to the woman's father to ask for her hand in marriage. The father was afraid to refuse the lion's offer, but asked him first to have his teeth and claws taken out; otherwise the lion could only arouse his daughter's terror. The lion was so in love with the woman that he agreed to the bargain. When the lion came back and approached the farmer, now naked and defenceless, the farmer clubbed him to death.
If you follow your enemies' advice, you will run into danger.
The Man and the Golden Eggs
A man had a hen that laid a golden egg for him each and every day. The man was not satisfied with this daily profit, and instead he foolishly grasped for more. Expecting to find a treasure inside, the man slaughtered the hen. When he found that the hen did not have a treasure inside her after all, he remarked to himself, "While chasing after hopes of a treasure, I lost the profit I held in my hands!"
The fable shows that people often grasp for more than they need and thus lose the little they have.
The Lion, the Rooster and the Donkey
A donkey and a rooster lived together on a farm. A lion who had noticed the donkey crept up and was about to pounce when the rooster let loose a squawk. This frightened the lion (for they say that lions are terrified of the rooster's crowing) and he turned tail and ran. The donkey was elated at the thought of the lion running away from the rooster. He took off in pursuit of the lion but when the donkey had gone some distance away from the farm, the lion turned around and ate him.
The same thing happens to people: when someone sees his enemies humbled, he becomes presumptous, and this makes it possible for his enemies to destroy him before he even realizes what is happening.
Stories courtesy of Perry's index
Recently, my fascination for the fables crept up again and I was able to read all 584 of them. (They are really short so don't think I'm a fancy scholar or anything!)
I wanted to share a couple that were not only a great story but provided a great lesson as well:
The Lion and the Farmer's Daughter
A story about a lion and a young woman, which teaches us not to indulge our desires.
A lion who had fallen in love with a young woman went to the woman's father to ask for her hand in marriage. The father was afraid to refuse the lion's offer, but asked him first to have his teeth and claws taken out; otherwise the lion could only arouse his daughter's terror. The lion was so in love with the woman that he agreed to the bargain. When the lion came back and approached the farmer, now naked and defenceless, the farmer clubbed him to death.
If you follow your enemies' advice, you will run into danger.
The Man and the Golden Eggs
A man had a hen that laid a golden egg for him each and every day. The man was not satisfied with this daily profit, and instead he foolishly grasped for more. Expecting to find a treasure inside, the man slaughtered the hen. When he found that the hen did not have a treasure inside her after all, he remarked to himself, "While chasing after hopes of a treasure, I lost the profit I held in my hands!"
The fable shows that people often grasp for more than they need and thus lose the little they have.
The Lion, the Rooster and the Donkey
A donkey and a rooster lived together on a farm. A lion who had noticed the donkey crept up and was about to pounce when the rooster let loose a squawk. This frightened the lion (for they say that lions are terrified of the rooster's crowing) and he turned tail and ran. The donkey was elated at the thought of the lion running away from the rooster. He took off in pursuit of the lion but when the donkey had gone some distance away from the farm, the lion turned around and ate him.
The same thing happens to people: when someone sees his enemies humbled, he becomes presumptous, and this makes it possible for his enemies to destroy him before he even realizes what is happening.
Stories courtesy of Perry's index
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