on leaving

It's my last day in a three year series of last days of leaving someplace. Except this place is special. Especially in the summer. Outdoor concerts, street fairs, stylishly clothed women and men with sandalled and manicured feet. In the summer this city pulsates with energy and people, all kinds of people, get out and walk and eat at open air cafes and drink throughout the day and laugh ...
I'm going to miss NY, but it's even more difficult leaving in the summer. Maybe this string of gray, rainy days we've been having will make it a little easier. But I doubt it.

on rape (or after watching dateline's coverage of the duke rape case)

tell us the facts of
where were you when
what were you doing when
they called you niggerbitchcuntwhore
was it when you (were) entered
or when you left there
what are the facts of
tell us the time when
do you know
do you know what time it is
do you know
how long was it
(in you)
how long
did they have you
how long
how long will black women
have to tell how long (will) it take(s)
how long
what time is it
where were you when
where is the evidence
where were you when
something
happened
evidence
show us your
evidence.

moving me

It's the weirdest experience sitting around on my ass while movers gently wrap, pack and load my stuff. I've long awaited this day, when I wouldn't have to bribe friends with pizza and beer or try to balance various items on my lone back (I've actually carried a mattress like that before). And now that day is here. I scored a job with more than adequate moving expenses and I get to kick back and wait while three relatively quiet professionals tend to my home goods.

But the waiting is a bit awkward as well. It isn't quiet enough for me to take a nap or do any substantive writing (current blog entry notwithstanding). Plus I have to be alert enough to look up every now and then and make sure they are not packing the "stay" items or to respond when the petite one with the West Indian lilt asks "Does this go?" So I have the drone of the tv as background noise and the distraction of my laptop for surfing the net or ... writing a blog entry. Hopefully they'll be quick (as I've heard rumored) and I can bask in the solace of an almost empty apartment.

a different girl every night

Me'Shell Ndegeocello's low frequency melodies might be just the remedy for my blues (the source of my blues: subject of another blog entry). I found out about Me'Shell's free outdoor appearance while perusing the Pride Week section of New York Mag online and in spite of what I think might be a slight sinus infection I thought "What could be better than sitting in the park listening to Me'Shell Ndegeocello?" (and for free) Of course I was right. The short concert spotlighted her band "A Different Girl Every Night" and man those guys could jam. They opened up with Jimi Hendrix's "Manic Depression": "Manic depression is touching my soul/I know what I want but I just don't know...how to go about getting it." Did she know I was in the audience?

Narcissism aside, it was a chill atmosphere. The petite head shaven soul maven entered the stage in a simple black skirt and white tee-shirt, her brightly colored sneakers adding a burst of color. She didn't say much in the way of interacting with the audience. She never does really. She introduced her band, grooved with her guitar and crooned:

I do some right
I do some wrong
I pray to let light guide me
I'm just a soul on the planet
I'm trying to do good/be good/feel good

Who says the blues is dead?

"kick this one for brooklyn"

I'm about two weeks shy of moving to my new place of employment in "midwest city usa" and I feel like I'm in a state of suspension. I still have a dissertation to defend, a new place to become acquainted with and a "home" to leave. I told a friend the other day that New York (actually Brooklyn) is the only place I've lived (and I've lived a lot of places) that I am never quite ready to leave. I was here for a six month stint in '97, living in a Ft Greene brownstone and surrounded by beautiful black bohemes and artists. This time around, I'm here a bit longer, doing a visiting instructorship and living in the tree-lined calm of Park Slope. The thing I love about Brooklyn (even more than Manhattan) is the neighborhoody feel. Manhattan is a bird's eye view from where I live and a ten minute train ride if that, but I don't have to deal with the claustral impact of "the city," yet I can go in and play when I please. And Brooklyn has its own local haunts that I have come to dig, like Moe's and Stone Home wine bar and my neighborhood bar and grill with the super yummy turkey burgers (swiss on mine, please. no cheddar, i really don't care for yellow cheese).

At the same time, I'm looking forward to some career stability, meeting new folks, going different places, etc that the new (tenure track!) job will offer. Like I said: suspension. I don't want to leave, but I don't want to not leave. I'll enjoy kickin it in Brooklyn for the time I have left and take comfort in the fact that it will be here when I return.

network integration

What happens when a black network merges with a white one? The CW. (Does that stand for coloreds and whites?) UPN has been the designated black network after the death of The Cosby Show and A Different World and after FOX made a name for its network and then drop-kicked all its black shows and the WB followed suit; it had a line-up of black comedies including the Steve Harvey Show and the Jamie Foxx Show until the network drew an audience, then gradually Dawson's Creek, Seventh Heaven and One Tree Hill recolored and reaudienced that station. It's like network gentrification.
Besides The Gilmore Girls (which the CW is keeping), I find most of the shows on the WB trite and boring and aside from Everybody Hates Chris and Girlfriends (also slated for slots on the new network), the UPN doesn't offer up much for TIVO either. I wonder what will happen after the CW is on the air for a season or two. Will "black" and "white" shows exist side by side in a network racial utopia? Will there be gradual white flight from the screen? Or will a bunch of black actors be out of jobs until an"Other" network wants to put itself on the map (ding ding ding)?

what kind of writer should a writer be

I couldn't resist doing this questionnaire from Dr. Mon's blog:

You Should Be A Poet

You craft words well, in creative and unexpected ways.
And you have a great talent for evoking beautiful imagery...
Or describing the most intense heartbreak ever.
You're already naturally a poet, even if you've never written a poem.