This video has been lurking around in the back of my head for several weeks now. To me, that is an involuntary inspiration and a sign that I should just go with it.
Now we all know that Chris Brown is just an average singer. Nothing to sneeze about, and someone we will all forget in a few months...my sarcasm is fantastic. ;-)
And of course we all know that Colin Tilley has directed the worst videos ever, for the most no name of artists:
Lil Wayne & Rick Ross - John
Jeremih & 50 Cent - Down on Me
J.Cole & Missy Elliot - Nobody's Perfect
Justin Beiber - Never Let You Go
Tyga & Lil Wayne - Faded
I mean really...who has ever heard of those people?
Seriously, here's the video from Chris and Colin that inspired my short story (sidebar - while I've thought of this video I never actually wrote the story until my recent, weekend writing retreat):
Here's the story:
His Saturdays were usually routine. After watching David and Xavier’s baseball game, he dropped them off at their friend’s and went grocery shopping. He would wander aimlessly in and out of the aisles thinking about what life would be like if Marlena wasn’t so wrapped up in all her glorious bullshit. If she didn’t ooze bullshit from her thighs and stomach, neck and face. It was disgusting. After the week’s worth of groceries were packed away in their Honda van, he would carry them home to put away and start on the laundry. That was it. Kids, food and dirty clothes. His Saturday nights couldn’t get more depressing. Tonight, however, was different. Not because certain events were unusual but because Paul had willed it to be different. He was in the bread aisle outwardly dissecting the difference between the 100% wheat and 100% butter top wheat yet inwardly challenging himself to do it, to walk over there and say something. A whole minute passed by while he studied the bread. A whole minute had passed by and she was still standing at the far end of the aisle. Carin was every man’s fantasy, including Paul’s. She was that neighbor whose smile draped with flirtiness. The neighbor who seductively leaned over her petunias, letting one breast peep so gently out of her low cut shirt. Now she was standing at the edge of the hot dog bun shelf, licking her lips and looking his way.
“So, what are you going to do, write a report on the bread or what?”
“Oh hi Carin! I didn’t see you there. I…um…I’m trying to make sure I get the heartiest kind-,”
“And then what are you going to do?” She interrupted.
“Well go home I guess.” But he didn’t want to go home. Even the words tasted sour coming out of his mouth. His wife Marlena was waiting for him at home. She was the reason for all his imaginary excuses for staying at work late and lingering in this supermarket. He didn’t want to go home to her or her bullshit.
“Why don’t you come home with me?” Carin asked. Paul started sweating.
“Come on. You know I’m married. Don’t say things like that.” He picked up a pack of Stoneground 100% wheat and placed it in the cart. She strutted her way down the aisle and ended up right next to him, face to face.
“114 E. French Boulevard. Apartment 13D.” And with that she was gone. Paul couldn’t pay for his items any faster than he could blink. He stumbled out of the store, dropping his keys and clumsily throwing the bags into the backseat.
“Hey honey, h-how’s it going?” He wiped the perspiration from his forehead, which had formed at the mere thought of driving in the direction of Carin’s apartment. At this point in his life, Paul couldn’t care less about Marlena. Her bullshit was always getting in the way. He needed a break from it.
“When will you be home?” She asked.
“Soon…er, well actually I’m headed to work to work on something. So, you probably don’t need to wait up.”
“Did you even get the groceries you dimwit? I’m hungry. I want my dinner.” She was beginning to annoy him and ruin the mood he created just for Carin.
“Okay I have to go. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Paul! You can’t just hang up on me like that. We are not done-,”
“Gotta go honey. Bye.” He ended the call quickly and made a sharp left turn, running through a yellow light. The phone rang again with Marlena’s name flashing in bright neon. He ignored it. Only four more streets to go. His mind wandered to when Marlena’s bullshit began. It was definitely after they had Xavier, and became worse after David was born. The boys were almost teenagers now. Time seemed like it stopped but her bullshit just grew and grew. Carin was perfect. Not an ounce of bullshit on her. Finally, he pulled up in front of the 114 E. French Boulevard apartment building.
9/03/2012
The evolution of creativity
I still like the hardback, newspaper, magazine and audibook...ebook - I've skipped over that. Enhanced book - I'm getting there. Question mark - I'm inventing that. :-)
7/06/2012
7/04/2012
Video Inspiration - Frank Ocean + Nabil Elderkin
Early this morning (July 4th), singer Frank Ocean boldly posted a message on his Tumblr page that announced he was bisexual. It wasn't just a post, but a story of when he first fell in love with another man and the emotions that followed.
I love Frank's music and his voice. My favorite video of his is "Swim Good" directed by Nabil Elderkin. As far as music videos go, Nabil's done a few small insignificant things like:
Seal – Change is Gonna Come
Kanye West – Paranoid
GOOD Music – Mercy
John Legend – P.D.A.
Bruno Mars – Grenade
I mean, small things, nothing to sneeze about ;-)
Anyway, this collaboration with Frank Ocean is a creative dream come true.
This video inspired this short story interpretation:
I loved her like no other. So much so I would kill for her. But there always comes a day when your love is tested. On that day, I left work early, routinely stopping by the Nihonto antique store to admire their latest findings of samurai swords. Every fourth Thursday of the month they would display whatever traditional find they had authenticated and mount it high in a bullet proof glass case in the front window. Three months ago, I had my eye on a rare Shinogi Katana. The grip was a little worn, but the deep blue leather was still sturdy. I saved a whole year for that piece and when the time came, I choked before closing the deal. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something so precious, so beautiful, didn’t deserve my possession I thought. But not this day. This day I walked in there with courage, with a glint in my eye. She had told me I had earned it. Earlier that morning, I swear she kissed me on the cheek and told me so. And I believed her because I loved her like no other. This time around I didn’t even look in the display case. I went right for the Tachi sword hoisted behind the counter. I handed my man four thousand dollars in cash and drove right home to her.
Thursdays were also a routine for her. She didn’t go to work on Thursdays. She woke early to catch the train to some flower depot up state then returned by mid-afternoon to work at home. She was a museum curator and knew any and everything there was to know about history. I could only imagine the look on her face when I brought home this 1344 Tachi antique. My baby.
There were so many signs I missed. So many signs pointing me to turn around, to not stand on the tracks and watch the train that ultimately hit me. I opened the unlocked door and entered our home. Even though strong scents of alcohol and food lingered, I still kept the smile on my face. I drew the sword out of its case and walked to the back towards our bedroom. I gripped the flowers in my left hand and stepped over the clothes in the hallway, pushing the door aside.
“What have you done?” I whispered. It was the only thing I thought to say. My cracked voice startled them and they sat up gripping our silk sheets. Our silk sheets. Her long, black hair was beautiful even in its most traitorous state. My brain switched off.
“No!” She screamed. He put his arm up to shield her, to protect her, to anger me. My sword came down on him first. Quick and clean. She, however, didn’t deserve the same.
“I love you.” She managed to say and smoothly extended her legs over the bed to get up. She stood in front of me. She was always so bold, so fearless.
“I finally bought it.” I said.
“I know. You deserve it.”
“I know.” I raised it to her neck.
Now I’ve got this black suit on. It was my grandfather’s suit. The same one he wore at his wedding. My father never married my mother. The hope was on my shoulders but I’ve thrown it off. I was on my way to the funeral, but that’s too risky. Being lonely is hard. Being alone is hard. The best thing is to try and start over. Cleanse my sin in the ocean. Without her, the only thing I can do is swim good.
I love Frank's music and his voice. My favorite video of his is "Swim Good" directed by Nabil Elderkin. As far as music videos go, Nabil's done a few small insignificant things like:
Seal – Change is Gonna Come
Kanye West – Paranoid
GOOD Music – Mercy
John Legend – P.D.A.
Bruno Mars – Grenade
I mean, small things, nothing to sneeze about ;-)
Anyway, this collaboration with Frank Ocean is a creative dream come true.
This video inspired this short story interpretation:
I loved her like no other. So much so I would kill for her. But there always comes a day when your love is tested. On that day, I left work early, routinely stopping by the Nihonto antique store to admire their latest findings of samurai swords. Every fourth Thursday of the month they would display whatever traditional find they had authenticated and mount it high in a bullet proof glass case in the front window. Three months ago, I had my eye on a rare Shinogi Katana. The grip was a little worn, but the deep blue leather was still sturdy. I saved a whole year for that piece and when the time came, I choked before closing the deal. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something so precious, so beautiful, didn’t deserve my possession I thought. But not this day. This day I walked in there with courage, with a glint in my eye. She had told me I had earned it. Earlier that morning, I swear she kissed me on the cheek and told me so. And I believed her because I loved her like no other. This time around I didn’t even look in the display case. I went right for the Tachi sword hoisted behind the counter. I handed my man four thousand dollars in cash and drove right home to her.
Thursdays were also a routine for her. She didn’t go to work on Thursdays. She woke early to catch the train to some flower depot up state then returned by mid-afternoon to work at home. She was a museum curator and knew any and everything there was to know about history. I could only imagine the look on her face when I brought home this 1344 Tachi antique. My baby.
There were so many signs I missed. So many signs pointing me to turn around, to not stand on the tracks and watch the train that ultimately hit me. I opened the unlocked door and entered our home. Even though strong scents of alcohol and food lingered, I still kept the smile on my face. I drew the sword out of its case and walked to the back towards our bedroom. I gripped the flowers in my left hand and stepped over the clothes in the hallway, pushing the door aside.
“What have you done?” I whispered. It was the only thing I thought to say. My cracked voice startled them and they sat up gripping our silk sheets. Our silk sheets. Her long, black hair was beautiful even in its most traitorous state. My brain switched off.
“No!” She screamed. He put his arm up to shield her, to protect her, to anger me. My sword came down on him first. Quick and clean. She, however, didn’t deserve the same.
“I love you.” She managed to say and smoothly extended her legs over the bed to get up. She stood in front of me. She was always so bold, so fearless.
“I finally bought it.” I said.
“I know. You deserve it.”
“I know.” I raised it to her neck.
Now I’ve got this black suit on. It was my grandfather’s suit. The same one he wore at his wedding. My father never married my mother. The hope was on my shoulders but I’ve thrown it off. I was on my way to the funeral, but that’s too risky. Being lonely is hard. Being alone is hard. The best thing is to try and start over. Cleanse my sin in the ocean. Without her, the only thing I can do is swim good.
6/29/2012
Yes, Chef. You Deserve this Memoir
Marcus Samuelsson. I know you've heard of him...no? Maybe you need to identify him by a picture:
He is a renowned chef who has been featured on CNN, Top Chef, Today Show and Iron Chef America (among other shows). To me, his name became of importance when he served as the guest chef for the first state dinner of our POTUS (President of the United States for our less than savvy readers). The dinner was mostly vegetarian dishes, and being the wannabe vegetarian that I am, it caught my attention. Since then, he's done a million other things including opening a restaurant called The Red Rooster.
This is definitely the best time for him to pen a memoir. He's no ordinary chef. His food is phenomenal, of course, but his journey and backstory will make you appreciate his food (if you ever go to his restaurant) ten times more.
Snippet from Amazon.com:
It begins with a simple ritual: Every Saturday afternoon, a boy who loves to cook walks to his grandmother’s house and helps her prepare a roast chicken for dinner. The grandmother is Swedish, a retired domestic. The boy is Ethiopian and adopted, and he will grow up to become the world-renowned chef Marcus Samuelsson. This book is his love letter to food and family in all its manifestations.
Marcus Samuelsson was only three years old when he, his mother, and his sister—all battling tuberculosis—walked seventy-five miles to a hospital in the Ethiopian capital city of Addis Adaba. Tragically, his mother succumbed to the disease shortly after she arrived, but Marcus and his sister recovered, and one year later they were welcomed into a loving middle-class white family in Göteborg, Sweden. It was there that Marcus’s new grandmother, Helga, sparked in him a lifelong passion for food and cooking with her pan-fried herring, her freshly baked bread, and her signature roast chicken. From a very early age, there was little question what Marcus was going to be when he grew up.
GO BUY IT!!!!
He is a renowned chef who has been featured on CNN, Top Chef, Today Show and Iron Chef America (among other shows). To me, his name became of importance when he served as the guest chef for the first state dinner of our POTUS (President of the United States for our less than savvy readers). The dinner was mostly vegetarian dishes, and being the wannabe vegetarian that I am, it caught my attention. Since then, he's done a million other things including opening a restaurant called The Red Rooster.
This is definitely the best time for him to pen a memoir. He's no ordinary chef. His food is phenomenal, of course, but his journey and backstory will make you appreciate his food (if you ever go to his restaurant) ten times more.
Snippet from Amazon.com:
It begins with a simple ritual: Every Saturday afternoon, a boy who loves to cook walks to his grandmother’s house and helps her prepare a roast chicken for dinner. The grandmother is Swedish, a retired domestic. The boy is Ethiopian and adopted, and he will grow up to become the world-renowned chef Marcus Samuelsson. This book is his love letter to food and family in all its manifestations.
Marcus Samuelsson was only three years old when he, his mother, and his sister—all battling tuberculosis—walked seventy-five miles to a hospital in the Ethiopian capital city of Addis Adaba. Tragically, his mother succumbed to the disease shortly after she arrived, but Marcus and his sister recovered, and one year later they were welcomed into a loving middle-class white family in Göteborg, Sweden. It was there that Marcus’s new grandmother, Helga, sparked in him a lifelong passion for food and cooking with her pan-fried herring, her freshly baked bread, and her signature roast chicken. From a very early age, there was little question what Marcus was going to be when he grew up.
GO BUY IT!!!!
6/28/2012
National Anthem - Vote for A$AP and Lana
It was in January that I said A$AP Rocky was already going to pluck my nerve because he was getting too much recognition too fast. I needed him to give me more evidence of his greatness before I could jump on that bandwagon. In the past six months, I've dissected his album LiveLoveA$AP, I've watched all the interviews of him and his crew and I've tried to understand his purpose in hip hop. I'm getting better at not passing judgment on the first round. Now I think it's safe to say...he's got it.
National Anthem.
A song by Lana Del Rey featuring Rocky, but not in the way of a typical rap feature, oh no. Rocky isn't providing 8-bars to spice up her song or give her any genre credibility. Lana has her lane covered on her own. [Side note: I was sold on her talents with Blue Jeans and Born to Die]
This new video has the definition of creative splashed across it. A$AP is a loose representation of President JFK and Lana is his first lady. The themes of interracial relationships, sex, politics and history are so damn convincing. What a great way to start your morning right?
National Anthem.
A song by Lana Del Rey featuring Rocky, but not in the way of a typical rap feature, oh no. Rocky isn't providing 8-bars to spice up her song or give her any genre credibility. Lana has her lane covered on her own. [Side note: I was sold on her talents with Blue Jeans and Born to Die]
This new video has the definition of creative splashed across it. A$AP is a loose representation of President JFK and Lana is his first lady. The themes of interracial relationships, sex, politics and history are so damn convincing. What a great way to start your morning right?
6/08/2012
Farenheit 451 Author Dies
I know, I know. Ray Bradbury has authored many more novels than just Farenheit 451, but honestly, you know in your heart that this was his best. I read that novel in middle school and I distinctly remember thinking what a tragedy it would be if physical books were no longer a part of our society. Now that I think about it...I probably shed a tear or two. Okay maybe that was a bit much. Anyway, rest in peace Ray Bradbury, and trust, I personally will make sure that your make believe, science fiction world of burning books never happens in my lifetime.
I ALWAYS do my part...
I ALWAYS do my part...
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