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...
5/26/2012
Random writing prompt
I found a writing prompt the other day and decided to challenge myself. A prompt is when you are given a story setup and must complete an X number word count story. For example: Your a little girl, whose mother sent you on a journey to your grandmom's house. Along the way, you come face to face with a big, bad wolf...see? Anyway, I got a prompt and wrote this little quickie in about half hour. Let me premise though...I haven't mastered endings.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard to clean week-old spaghetti sauce from marble kitchen floors. But here I am, scraping away on my hands and knees. God Dylan! Can’t you learn to wipe your spills when they happen?” A 10-year old Dylan sat atop the counter island watching his mother utilize all her fancy yet impractical clean up gadgets, while licking the last of his Snickers ice cream bar.
“It makes absolutely no sense I tell you!” She said then removed her smock and gloves. She pushed her hair back, out of her face and straightened her dress before answering the doorbell.
“Good afternoon ma’am, are you Lila Wright?”
“No I’m not, sorry.” Although she noticed the stretch Maybach and at the end of the driveway, it didn’t peak her curiosity enough to let this tall, dark suited man continue his conversation. She shut the door. He rang the bell two more times.
“Yes?” She asked irritatingly.
“Does Lila Wright live here? I’m sure we are at the right address.”
“And I’m sure I know who I am. What is your business anyway?” She peeked behind him at the window of the Maybach slowing rolling down but it was too far away to make out the figure exactly.
“It’s confidential and Mr. Washington does not like to wait. If you know where we can find this woman, perhaps she is a neighbor or something?”
“Mr. Washington who?” Now curiosity was getting the best of her.
“Denzel Washington.”
“Wait. Did you say Lila? I’m sorry, but it’s pronounced Lee-la. The ‘i’ has an ‘e’ sound.”
“It does?”
“Yes, yes, I’m so sorry that you had to play such a hard game of name that girl.” She giggled. “It’s just that people always mess up my name and I never know who to trust. Why don’t you come in, or do you want me to come out?” She was clearly winging it but thoroughly enjoying it. Denzel Washington! Imagine that! If what was happening was seriously a reality and not the outcome of cleaning chemical fumes floating around in her brain, then Lila…Leela…Wright was who she was about to be.
“Since you and Mr. Washington are scheduled for a 12:30 lunch, if you’re ready then we can head out.”
“Oh. Oh, okay, yes. Let me grab my things and I’ll, oh my, lunch? Okay, give me a minute.” She left the door open and bee-lined for the stairs. Dylan had come around the corner, down the hallway and witnessed the whole thing before taking the last bite of his ice cream bar. The tall man returned to the car and informed that “Lila” would be out soon. Upstairs, she could be heard stomping, yelling and flinging things about. Three minutes later, Dylan met her at the bottom of the stairway with sticky hands and chocolate on his cheeks.
“Honey, oh my god! Do you know who is in that car out there? Do you know this is mommy’s dream come true? All that praying has finally paid off and that $200 I gave the church last week…woohoo!”
“But mom you’re not the girl they’re looking for.”
“This is a good time to teach you a very important lesson.” She bent down and grabbed his shoulders. “Sometimes, like that spaghetti sauce, you have to enjoy what’s in front of you and worry about cleaning up the messes later. Even if I don’t get any further than down the block, I will never regret this lie. Ha ha!” She kissed his forehead and rushed out the door.
**By the way here was my prompt:
The person of your dreams shows up on your doorstep, asking if you'd like to go out for coffee. You are suprised and confused, but you say yes. At the coffee shop as he/she is talking, you discover that he/she thinks you are someone else. Instead of coming clean, you go with it. - The Writers Digest
“I don’t know why it’s so hard to clean week-old spaghetti sauce from marble kitchen floors. But here I am, scraping away on my hands and knees. God Dylan! Can’t you learn to wipe your spills when they happen?” A 10-year old Dylan sat atop the counter island watching his mother utilize all her fancy yet impractical clean up gadgets, while licking the last of his Snickers ice cream bar.
“It makes absolutely no sense I tell you!” She said then removed her smock and gloves. She pushed her hair back, out of her face and straightened her dress before answering the doorbell.
“Good afternoon ma’am, are you Lila Wright?”
“No I’m not, sorry.” Although she noticed the stretch Maybach and at the end of the driveway, it didn’t peak her curiosity enough to let this tall, dark suited man continue his conversation. She shut the door. He rang the bell two more times.
“Yes?” She asked irritatingly.
“Does Lila Wright live here? I’m sure we are at the right address.”
“And I’m sure I know who I am. What is your business anyway?” She peeked behind him at the window of the Maybach slowing rolling down but it was too far away to make out the figure exactly.
“It’s confidential and Mr. Washington does not like to wait. If you know where we can find this woman, perhaps she is a neighbor or something?”
“Mr. Washington who?” Now curiosity was getting the best of her.
“Denzel Washington.”
“Wait. Did you say Lila? I’m sorry, but it’s pronounced Lee-la. The ‘i’ has an ‘e’ sound.”
“It does?”
“Yes, yes, I’m so sorry that you had to play such a hard game of name that girl.” She giggled. “It’s just that people always mess up my name and I never know who to trust. Why don’t you come in, or do you want me to come out?” She was clearly winging it but thoroughly enjoying it. Denzel Washington! Imagine that! If what was happening was seriously a reality and not the outcome of cleaning chemical fumes floating around in her brain, then Lila…Leela…Wright was who she was about to be.
“Since you and Mr. Washington are scheduled for a 12:30 lunch, if you’re ready then we can head out.”
“Oh. Oh, okay, yes. Let me grab my things and I’ll, oh my, lunch? Okay, give me a minute.” She left the door open and bee-lined for the stairs. Dylan had come around the corner, down the hallway and witnessed the whole thing before taking the last bite of his ice cream bar. The tall man returned to the car and informed that “Lila” would be out soon. Upstairs, she could be heard stomping, yelling and flinging things about. Three minutes later, Dylan met her at the bottom of the stairway with sticky hands and chocolate on his cheeks.
“Honey, oh my god! Do you know who is in that car out there? Do you know this is mommy’s dream come true? All that praying has finally paid off and that $200 I gave the church last week…woohoo!”
“But mom you’re not the girl they’re looking for.”
“This is a good time to teach you a very important lesson.” She bent down and grabbed his shoulders. “Sometimes, like that spaghetti sauce, you have to enjoy what’s in front of you and worry about cleaning up the messes later. Even if I don’t get any further than down the block, I will never regret this lie. Ha ha!” She kissed his forehead and rushed out the door.
**By the way here was my prompt:
The person of your dreams shows up on your doorstep, asking if you'd like to go out for coffee. You are suprised and confused, but you say yes. At the coffee shop as he/she is talking, you discover that he/she thinks you are someone else. Instead of coming clean, you go with it. - The Writers Digest
5/09/2012
Everybody else is DOING IT - Fifty Shades of Grey
The topic on the lips of book lovers (and even those who aren't) is the book Fifty Shades of Grey written by E.L. James, and its current ban in some libraries. In my opinion, the ban raises the question of how uptight should we or should we not be in America. They are deeming this erotic fiction novel, as straight porn. That's a strong description. But of course, if it's in the genre of erotic fiction, it probably would be porn!
This whole fiasco reminds me of when The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo first came out. The bondage and BDSM sexual plots were a pretty little surprise for the average fiction reader. Actually, see my post on that...here. And the outrage with the 1958 publishing of "Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov is along the same shaky line. There are many novels that were considered "provocative" when they came out, yet are mild, child's play now. Does that mean society keeps coming to a point where it's more tolerant with sexual exposure and sex fetishes? I'm sure a decade from now, Fifty Shades of Grey will be just a puff of smoke in the debate on rapturous literature.
So...if you want to see what all the fuss is about, don't go to your neighborhood library. You better head to the closest Barnes & Noble since librarians apparantly have their buns pulled too tight and their shirts buttoned all the way up!
From Wikipedia:
The plot traces the relationship between recent college graduate Anastasia Steele and manipulative billionaire Christian Grey. Steele is required by Grey to sign a contract allowing him complete control over her life. As she gets to know him she learns that his sexual tastes involve bondage, domination and sadism, and that childhood abuse left him a deeply damaged individual. In order to be his partner she agrees to experiment with BDSM, but struggles to reconcile who she is (a virgin who has never previously had a boyfriend) with whom Christian wants her to be: his submissive, to-do-with-as-he-pleases partner in his "Red Room of Pain."
This whole fiasco reminds me of when The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo first came out. The bondage and BDSM sexual plots were a pretty little surprise for the average fiction reader. Actually, see my post on that...here. And the outrage with the 1958 publishing of "Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov is along the same shaky line. There are many novels that were considered "provocative" when they came out, yet are mild, child's play now. Does that mean society keeps coming to a point where it's more tolerant with sexual exposure and sex fetishes? I'm sure a decade from now, Fifty Shades of Grey will be just a puff of smoke in the debate on rapturous literature.
So...if you want to see what all the fuss is about, don't go to your neighborhood library. You better head to the closest Barnes & Noble since librarians apparantly have their buns pulled too tight and their shirts buttoned all the way up!
From Wikipedia:
The plot traces the relationship between recent college graduate Anastasia Steele and manipulative billionaire Christian Grey. Steele is required by Grey to sign a contract allowing him complete control over her life. As she gets to know him she learns that his sexual tastes involve bondage, domination and sadism, and that childhood abuse left him a deeply damaged individual. In order to be his partner she agrees to experiment with BDSM, but struggles to reconcile who she is (a virgin who has never previously had a boyfriend) with whom Christian wants her to be: his submissive, to-do-with-as-he-pleases partner in his "Red Room of Pain."
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