in my mind and in my car

I realized I never shared one of my favorite New York stories here, the time when i went out and saw Broadway Backwards and then skipped home. but so much more. (I have a bootleg of the show too if anybody’s the least bit interested)
The story was told on the radio show of my amigos Robert and Adrian, which I think is called “Oregon skrilla for rilla you aint no killa” or something like that. Cause they’re from Ohr-eh-gon
Download it here. I’m at the very end.

Speaking of which: RADIOOOOOOO!

right.

G UNIT represent WHAT WHAT

http://www.savetheg.org/

seriously. I may hate on the G train, but that’s only because the G train hates on me. but now G Train could to get 50 percent less hateable, we have to fight, kids!
Allons enfants de la Patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu’un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons ! (bum ba dum!)

And don’t even get me started on the fare hike. Pretty soon there will be no New Yorkers, only tourists and Donald Trump. But as long as there’s money flowing in, who cares right?

I’m crazy about this city

Simmilarly, I’m crazy about this book. What a relif after Quicksand which was dull and hard to read. I even liked it better than Beloved which I had to read in high school which disturbed and freaked me out.

First of all I love how it’s all put together. There’s so much of the story to be told. I love at firast not getting who is talking but then the “a ha!” moment, realizing a reference to an earlier chapter.  What a great way to write a novel.

Second of all, the language is beautiful. Of course being a nobel prize winner, Toni would ahave to be good, (unless the whole thing is some sort of scam) but the way she weaves languages and the expressions she uses can be both simple and amazing. It truly feels like some sort of lyrical jazz, reminiscent of poetry.
I always believe that girl was a pack of lies. I could tell by her walk her underclothes were beyond her years even if her dress wasn’t.

Black women were armed, black men were dangerous and the less money they had, the deadlier the weapon they chose.

I also think this book is very apt (redudancy!) for this class because in the stories, the city itself is the one constant character.

Nobody says it’s pretty here; nobody says it’s easy either. What it is is decisive, and if you pay attention to the street plans, all laid out, the city can’t hurt you.

The city is smart at this: smelling and good and looking raunchy; sending secret messages disguised as public signs: this way, open here, danger to let colored only single men on sale woman wanted private room stop dog on premises absolutely no money down fresh chicken delivery fast. And good at opening locks, dimming stairways. Covering your moans with its own.

Alice Manfred had worked hard to privatize her niece but she was no match for the City seeping  music that begged and challenged each and every day. “Come” it said. Come and do wrong.” 

BEST.

Your honor, I object.
On what grounds?
On the grounds of Brooklyn, your honor.

Quicksand

I’m sorry but Quicksand wasn’t good.
This book is depressing depressing depressing and not visually interesting. There’s no really description.
She moves from place to place from college to Denkmark to Harlem to the South and is never happy, always feeling out of place. She ends married with up with five kids who she doesn’t even want, and is tempted to run off, but stays with anyways. Given the unhappy family life she you would think she;d want to provide a better life for her offspring.
I don’t like Helga. She says she “hates hypocracy” and feels out of place with her white family but she acts high and mighty with other black people. No one is ever good enough for her.
This book is based clearly on Nella Larsen herself, so I wonder if she thought the same things about black people in her day?
Still I have to give her props for writing about being biracial when it wasn’t a subject that was written about a lot.

There are way way more interesting dipections of the Harlem REnasissence.
Hell, right now I’m reading On the Shoulders of Giants: My Journey Through the Harlem Renaissance by Kareem Abdul Jabbar and I would reccomend the book by the basketball player a thousand times more than this “literary” work.

word exercise poem

What’s your favorite jam mom
I asked on Thursday when
we were talking about food
she said violet
no then chocolate
“well” she said
they are in Tokyo.
Tokyo
Yes and if you haven’t been to
Tokyo you need to go
go go speed racer go
Never to Tokyo, no just Moldova
with Raul and a boot of a
we were inspired form seeing the
Mauve Warhol at
Kelden Pl
The inauguration? Oh When
did you go. I hear he is
genius but has horrible BO
I know I was just take me out of this Rhombus these people these skyscrapers
Or a cow I will have
But were you happy Andora
Aurora Borealis (steamed hams)
No no no
I wish oh do I wish oh
that I was in France with
Elvis and my momma oh I wish
I were brave oh
what is this supposed to accomplish

Only in Orrrrrrrrrrrrgon

I don’t know how I feel about this
Casa Diablo

The world’s first vegan strip club.

But I do love the various headlines “We put the meat on the pole, not on the plate” “Customers Find All Skin, No Meat At Vegan Strip Club ” and the best “Boobs With a Side of Soy”

rated X

Okay, so on Wednesyday I’m walking down the street, crossing Washington, on the one past the G train because if I’m going into Manhattan and if it isn’t pouring (and I’m from Seattle so I mean cats and dogs in a biblical flood for pouring) or I’m not in an absolute hurry and/or with other lameos, I say “fuck the G train” because the G train usually fucks you & head straight for the C.
because hey, I could use the exercise and it’s about the same time-wise (though I should time & compare one day)
but anyway I was crossing the street and it was raining a little so I had my cherry bumbershoot up and this big SUV was turning where the little WALK dude is flashing. He thinks I can’t even see him.
He doesn’t even make an attempt to stop when I’m already half-way through the street. (& no there’s no one behind him or even comping up)

I can see through the window, he makes a face like he’s all annoyed at the silly girl in her rainboots.
Um, HELLO?
I was unable to stop myself from yelling out ” HEY! I’m walking here! I’m walking here!”
(I left out the “Up yours, you son of a bitch!”)
I was no doubt inspired by the film.
And anyway where does he think we are, the Czech Republic? Moldova? Uzbekistan?
Here in america buddy, civilians get the right of way.
PED-XING

I had never seen the movie before, though of course I’d heard of it and “the” line and seen the parodies on Seinfeld and American Dad.
What did I think of it? I’m not quite sure.

Midnight Cowboy had beautiful cinematography despite its old school film quality. It makes me want to watch more of director John Schlesinger’s work. I find it interesting that he is gay. (Or was when he was still alive. Though I don’t think death can stop the gay) What with the subject matter and all the fag this, fag that talk. I know you can’t judge language/morals of another time from a modern perspective but do guys still talk like that?
The flash backs were disturbing yet visually striking, and a great way of telling the history of a character.
I’ve heard many people say that they miss the old Manhattan, back when it was dirty. I think this did a good job of showing us the old New York. The 42nd street of that time is quite different now, least of all with lot less seediness and prostitutes. Jay Gatbsy’s and Holden Caufield’s and Joe Buck’s New York and mine will always be different

The characters, were just that, characters. And the actors were very good. Like any really excellent movie, I didn’t even see them as actors, just Joe Buck and Ratso.
Joe was not quite innocent, but good natured, fair, and outgoing. Straight but too much of a gentleman to be homophobic. Too naive. I imagine New York gets a lot of naive incomers looking to make their names here. Or at least it used too before it became a big tourist trap. He had big dreams of becoming a kept man, but found that just cause you want something so badly doesn’t mean its going to happen. When asked where he was from he said “New York” and I though “really?”

Rizzo is well, just a kid from DA BRONX just trying to keep on living. He hasn’t had the best life, nor the worst so all he knows how to do is exist. Getting by stealing medicine, eating ketchup and crackers, and living in a condemned building. I was sad at the end when he died, because I wondered what would happen to him and Joe in Florida. Would they really start a new, radically different life? (and were they a couple, seriously?)
But I kind of expected it to come, because he had been talking about going to Florida so much, and I knew this was the kind of movie where at the end, their problems wouldn’t be magically solved. The kid should have seen a doctor!

I must point out.
Me and creepy self-loathing gay guy have something in common.

We’re both in the services of St. Christophe. This was given to me by my French teacher before i embarked on my Pratt2k7 expedition. He’s supposed to be the patron saint of travelers, especially those who are going on long journeys. Like me and Joe Buck. I feel happy when I look and know it’s there, spooning with my keys and library card and rape whistle.

and on a semi related note, everyone should read $pread magazine

i ♥ racism

New York City Poetry at its finest

The Bronx

No Thonx

-Ogden Nash

close read that, suckers.