Day One
I don’t know where it started or when but if the feeling counts it was a lot longer than 24 hours and was either my two-day-feeling trip into Toledo, ohio or the event that evening that my trip was supposedly for. Essentially, the trip was the longest buts shortest feeling, thank God for good company. I left Dartmouth on the 11th was in Boston the same day (thanks mom). took a bus that went from boston to new york, new york to Cleveland and from Cleveland to Toledo and with an onward route to Chicago that I was incredibly tempted to take with good knowledge that I had no where to stay in the city but a classmates’.. actually a home girl’s figuratively and literally, and that it would take four more hours. OH! and that it was illegal and not what I left boston thinking of. One hour and drive later…ann arbor, Michigan.
a knockout nap and some visual SBApowpowpow’s later. studded. PIMP.
(aka. my dude i looked dumb fly. DUH!.. ill post some pictures later)
I’m at poetry night Kevin Coval, Roger Bonair Agard and Lauren Whitehead fixed me. sometimes in growing we don’t get water we shed it. Something was happening that night at least, don’t ask what, I couldn’t tell you. Aint wasn’t no body crying like no lil beeetch doe ;) hahaha. it was a lot more than that a lot less. a lot less heavier.. a lot of growing
and just plain and simple and just good.
1. Kevin Coval is the shit
(but) because of my obsessive nature, infatuation for nice looking things, and great artists… I’m not allowed to talk about him…blah blah (embarrassment) BLAH.
2. Roger Bonair Agard. who I have been obsessively in love with for the past iounno how many months but several. I am also not allowed to talk about for the same reasons.
WHOOPS.
3. Lauren Whitehead. makes me happy.
definitely spit a black girl manifesto which I had never heard.
For those who want to know what It feels like to be this blk chick (will post)
AND
Whiplash
which is perhaps one of the best “green” pieces that I have ever heard and oh so much more.
um. fuhrealfuhrealdoe.
she just hella bomb.
periodHOMES.
that night KIIIIIIICKN’ IT was good.
I was in Michigan for 6 days or something.. okay. 5? if I can count? oh damn actually I must have left new England on the 10th not the 11th .. so yea. 6 if you count today which is when I left. NEVERTHELESS . that is way too many days to account for in detail
important parts.
Aimee le.
Aimee le.
Water (of the un-outwardly expressed salt bearing as well as fresh kind)
the word homie (thanks to my obsessive nature)
^ REPEAT. REPEAT. REPEAT (for the past two weeks in fact)
Boldness (Mama Le.)
Renewal (Mama Le.)
Compassion (Mama Le.)
and faultiness at times
(Me.)
the DIA
the DIA Avedon photography exhibit. hellla replenishing and fueling.
grants new obsessions.
1. China Machado
2. Gloria (some of my features are proof Adam and eve were West African) Vanderbilt
(bayad one ... i can't find the specific picture)
3. BOMB BOMB BOMB BOMB model I can’t remember but will..hopefully, eventually.
oh and DOVIMA!
DOVIMA! DOVIMA!DOVIMA!
agh.
FEAST your eyes.
moral of the story:
Richard Avedon.ummmm.theSHIT
(very aware that they may possibly have some problematic histories surrounding images. minorities, fashion blah blah blah and these models that I am yet to be aware of but I don’t really care right now.. HERMMMM. thank yOUuuuuu)
i wish I could remember all the models. this exhibit was like a big YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS! IN A sea of =/-ness.
(lol. the day started off slow)
4. new sketches in my book HOMEBRO!
cuz now I remember that there was a time that clothes were better and that I like time traveling and being in the wrong time at the right time and shit and anachronism so some shat needs to go down when me and my baby meet up again (yes, that was a reference to my sewing machine)..fucking foul. just wack. I know.
ahh blogging…
this is actually a pre-blog which may be pathetic .. I have no internet here ta BW (OMFG IM HOME FOR ONCE) I AIRPORT (forgot how beautiful the black people in DC are) and am gonna post this when I get to mamma dukes house this evening(maybe)
but ohh.. yea. ..
ahhh.
blogging..
the tele communication.. that forces the constant question… WHO THE FUCK ACTUALLY LISTENS TO(ME)/ READS THIS SHIT.
people in ann arbor are lovely…or like-ly ahahha, its good company.
poetry scene prally the most functional I have been exposed to in its natural homestead-ish state. Actually definitely the most positive I have been able to be truly involved with.. is that the word….
word.
my last day (yesterday)
I founda love for hafiz and subsequently rumi that is/will surely prove to be important…/significant
i hope to go back cuz I always need a good place to run away to./seem to be losing places to run away from. ha. whoops. I mean escape. I mean free myself with?
brummmpp. (random clash of onomatopoeia… quite frequent where my people, aka. ME and me alone, are from)
ummmhmmmmm.
….why does it feel like I said a lot of nothing, a whole lot of nothing I actually wanted to say….
someone(s) once told me my train of thought is nonsensical.
but hells everything has a pattern even if the pattern is that there is no pattern
I fucks wit it.
Ill blog about something that actually matters soon. maybe the things that matter that I skipped over, re-blog about them in greater detail. HA! plan.
here is some Hafiz.
fo dat ass,
Son
Homie.
Homie,
HOMIE.
(had to get that out)
The Sun Never Says
Even after all this time
The sun never says to the earth,
"You owe Me."
Look what happens with
A love like that,
It lights the Whole Sky.
Love.Word
Remember One
Wahid
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