Last Week in Re-WOO!

Collage by Novaslim, 2004.

Last week was a chunk of change to swallow - literally. Spent time with Larry in New Jersey - twice. That meant traveling to Jersey after work, which prior to riding two different trains (MTA and The Path), I had to run home first to feed my two horses, I mean, cats. Our cats are taking over the house. They gallop through the living room chasing each other. They climb on everything. I was on the phone the other night, and I swear one knocked the phone out my hand (Rufus) while the other (Romeo) grabbed my arm, twisted it behind my back, and pushed me into the kitchen to break open a can of Friskies (now with 50% more ash.) I like my cats, I do. However, I am looking forward to the day when they are less horsey. Fly Stalking is a sport, and so is Chase the Ringing Toy thing, not to mention Drive Steven and Niki Mad with the Galloping thing. They relentlessly cat-a-pult themselves into our lives with boundless, often irritating energy. Geez.

Saturday: I went to DC and it was the best seven hours I ever spent. I gave a writing workshop which was attended by about seven people (including myself and a friend and non-writer, Mannah) and we had a grand old time talking about the craft and our experiences with it. My workshop's name "Thinking Again About the Word," which was a nod to "Think Again," the book I co-edited with Colin Robinson, was bit confusing to some, which was understandable. A few Christians came a-calling ready to hear me preach. Uh, no. I was only there to break down a few writing tips and offer up a few opportunities for writers, so no, Jesus wasn't on the agenda.

Met some nice fellows and chickypoos. I am always touched when someone walks up to me and says "hello, I read your blog/writing." That's always affirming, and it happened to me several times while I was in DC. So thanks to all of you! Appreciate it. Fellow bloggers the lovely EJ, the hilarious Mike and the beautiful (and shy!) Novaslim were in attendance. I ran into Lisa C. Moore, publisher of RedBone Press, who received an award from DC Black Pride. That's good, she deserves it. One of her projects, Fire and Ink: A Writers Festival for LGBT People of African Descent, is about to pop off again in 2005. The last festival was in 2002, and it was wonderful. The current conference planners are getting things together and I'll have more details as things develop, and how you can participate.

One thing I can say about DC Black Pride is that I am pleased that I was only there for a minute for several reasons. One, I am in a relationship, and Larry wasn't able to go. Two, each year I swallow another year, and find myself less interested in going to parties and events, and more inclined to take in a little Discovery Channel. Three, the number of workshops appear to be on the decline, and that's one of the activities I enjoy. Also the type of workshops are kinda "Gay 101" meaning that the events are geared toward younger, less experienced folks (or rather, folks with different experiences), and are a bit too basic for my brain. Still, they are important. But I am definitely feeling my age. Most prides, including DC's pride, are more about the parties than anything, and that's largely because that's what people come for. What's interesting to me is that on the surface, black LGBT folks appear to be apolitical; concerned only with the next piece of pussy or dick. I think a healthier, most expansive critique would also mention that most black LGBT people do not spend their time in affirmative environments where they are simply treated like people. Most of us are not active in organizations (though we may hold memberships), have access to or read magazines and books by us, are in healthy relationships, and a great majority of us feel that if (or at least, act like it) we are only vaginas and penises (due to homophobia).

So, this is what I think. Black pride celebrations are essentially a place where one can let one's stomach hang out (in a manner of speaking), a chance to be a whole self in an environment that won't hurt you because you are lesbian or gay or SGL or transgender or bisexual. It can, however, be abusive in other ways (e.g., lookism, ageism, classism, etc.) For the most part, when the arenas are black and LGBT, then other "isms" become that much more prominent. I'll write about that later.

Emotionally I have been exhausted. After several weeks, three major projects came to an end, art in harlem: misc (photos to come), one at work, and a personal project that you will hear about in the next week. My laptop's VGA is on the fritz (it won't work) and at least three very good friends of mine are in dire straits. Please send good energy to Donald, to Marvin and to Andre. I love them all very much and wish them well. In stead of offering the empty platitude "everything will be fine," I will say to Donald, Marvin and Andre, that I will be here regardless of what happens.

I am also fucking tired of my braces. I just want them off, off, off! and I have been nursing the thought to have them removed. Had them since November. Tired of them. I am self-conscious about smiling, about opening my mouth. Strangely when I am giving a workshop or lecturing, they disappear. Maybe because I focus more on the message than myself. Ha! Hahahahahahahahaha. To NOT focus on myself. Okay, I'll try that.

Last week I finished The Women by Hilton Als. I tried contacting him at the New Yorker to talk with him about the book, but to no avail - yet. Last week I also listened to Tickled Pink by Rita Rudner, a hilarious book. This week I am ensconced in Toxic Sludge is Good for You, by John Strauber and Sheldon Rampton, a very detailed and well-researched book about the public relations industry loaned to me by Sandra Osse, a fabulous graphic designer. I also feasted upon Release: Race, Love and Jazz, a book of poems by Millery Polyne. Millery read at art in harlem: misc 16 May. I will tell you about his wonderful book later.

It was also the first week that I had a relief from my newly discovered allergies. Don't ask me what type of allergies, pollen or cat hair, but all I know is that my eyes aren't watering and my throat is clear and that I am not coughing like a mad man. And regarding my health, I haven't seen the inside of my gym for several weeks now. My stomach and ass blow up with abandon as I stuff yet another pop tart into my mouth. Why? Frazzled. Up early in the morning editing, writing. Being a good ear. At the end of the day, I fall into the bed exhausted. After art in harlem: misc, the house was a wreck for a week. That drove me nuts. Nothing feels right when my house is in chaos.

So it is good that I have a few days off. The house is clean. Spiritually I am coming back to myself. Tomorrow I plan to workout in the morning and do some reading and writing for the rest of the day. Catch up with friends. Take in some trash TV. Maybe head to the park for a little napping under a tree.

Next week looks like this. More art in harlem: misc stuff to do; three meetings at work and after work; party for a friend who graduates this week; research work with friend Heru (two days); and of course, whatever else manifests. I am looking for good things. I am looking forward to a lovely, lovely work week. Come to me, good energy. Wash my heart in with your healing....

That should be enough for now. If you want more, you will have to ask. Nicely.

Monday, May 31, 2004 @ 10:40 AM