OneBigSoup cashtag

OneBigSoup cashtag
recovery fundraiser for A. Blackwell

Monday, January 20, 2014

I'll be HAVING my STUFF BACK, tyvm!

 Notes I'm working on as I bring up a 3D web "Xanadu Collective" and finally bring Muze Ackland Productions online.
Video Tour

Music video

Live karaoke MJ tribute party

Dance animation video

Story Tellin'

Political rants


Ntozake Shange - I have a HUGE package of Vindication to deliver and I've been trying since her book arrived at our house in 1970s Levittown@Belair in Bowie, MD. 

I was trying to bring my voice back as our families more resembled a chain of command.

I like to think she really needs to hear this because no matter how many bozo buttons they hand you, somethings can only come from some people and I don't know if it's not me, but I'll try anyways.

Because I miss her and we've never met.

Damned those social experiments!
Do we LOOK like Ayn Rand?
What in the flying flip were they thinking?
I wanted to dance too, but she kept sniggering at the idea of my fat ass in a tutu.
I declined
but ONLY piano lessons?
So, I just got this guitar out of the pawnshop stamped Epiphone Special model II.  The closest thing to it was 500$ on a supposed discount, and it wasn't even purple.  I bought it on time.....its time was running out on me and I had to do some math.
Meanwhile, Ntozake's aunt is apparently doing well laughing at me and bragging about having her wine and taking it all with her after Dad passed a few years ago.....I did the BC and I love it napptural.
I had no idea there was a movement until I googled "Afrosheen" and found some interesting, helpful sights.
Did they make sure you hair was bone dry before ripping through it, or did they use common sense and style it wet?  Guess what I got....a rock.  She knew better.  I remember because when a child's Bullshit-o-meter buries a needle like that, it locks in.

And here comes another social experiment, (Oh noooo, black folks got their own suburban district!)
now they've NIMBY'd all the black folks into ALL of Levittown's back yard.  It was not my idea to become their precious little white flight outbreak monkey of their bullshit political agenda.
We had a saying in our house...that went,
"Andrea Maria Blackwell, will you SIT DOWN and SHUT THE FUCK UP?"
In Boot camp, it was "Blackwell......DROP!"
Now that I'm disabled out of the gig I hated with a purple passion, I'm in her camp and she was born 10 years before me!  How pissed am I about that?
Pretty damned.
So...  I have this marketable voice from tech support (who knew?) and decided that my facial structure is Penzance-resistant.

I thought I'd try her poems and see how I sound.  It was better than I thought, but I don't know if it's ready for prime time.  I cant be bother,  just have to do it....

So, I decided to try some Poems to practice and it just didn't feel right ....  ahh, but its poetry.
I listened to Alfre....her style was just so much fun.  Mostly I was studying her method, but kept tripping over my tongue.  I have a glitch.
As I practiced how we did like we did when I was learning how this black thing worked, I started to rant back at the lines.......between the lines, and I understood a whole lot more.
At some point I'll probably hit on something that works .....or admit defeat, I don't care as long as it's fair.
Here are her poems .  I'm working on a concept, so it might take a minute to get back around to it.
At the moment I'm working with friends from years back on 3rd Rock Grid, setting up a virtual world 3D web studio for machinima production.
It's taken 10 years to get this far on the grid, but the concept goes back to when my stomping ground was the Smithsonian.
Where ya been?
"At The Mall"
and live to put off a blerd stamp for at least another day.
Why is every generation socialized to believe the following is worthless?
I'm just sayin' know the rant....I can see that.

It's hard to recite without interjecting the knee-jerks they invoke.
Our family put the "fun" in "dysfunction", you know.
"Great Equalizer", my Aunt Fanny!
Forcing the issue is about as worthless as "Air Pudding and Wind Sauce"
When she gets stressed she loses weight and her folks were rather lean and lanky.
Ntozake's aunt was so obsessed with weight, good grief!
One presumes it defied her efforts to pass me off as her own actual child....
We were HOMESTEADERS, dagnabbit! and I we got George Seals on Dad's side...
So my tacky skirts were too small and I had an ASS!
Deal with it!  Stop lying to the neighbors, they remembered my MOTHER!
Anyway, I'm tired.....will edit this at some point when I have the bandwidth, the sun will NOT beat me to bed this time!
So, the poems I'm practicing follow with a few adjustments on how I want to do it.....eventually.
But it's my current benchmark project.

somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff
not my poems or a dance i gave up in the street, (.....)
but somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff
like a kleptomaniac workin hard & forgettin-while-stealin
this is mine/this aint yr stuff/
Now! why don’t you put ME back & let ME hang out in my own self
somebody almost walked off wit alla my stuff
AND didn’t care enuf to send a note home sayin
i was late for my solo conversation
or two sizes too small for my own tacky skirts
What can anybody do wit somethin of no value on
a open market?
Did you getta dime for my things?
hey man/ where are you goin wid alla my stuff/
This is a woman's trip and I needs my stuff to oooohh & aaahh abt/ daddy/ i gotta mainline number
from my own shit/
now wontcha put me back/
& letme play this duet/ wit silver ring in my nose/
honest to god/
Somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/
& i didnt bring anythin but the kick & sway of it...

The perfect ass for my man & none of it is theirs
this is mine/Andrea's own things/ that’s my name
now give me my stuff/
i see ya hidin my laugh/ & how i
sit wif my legs open sometimes/ to give my crotch
some sunlight/ & there goes my love, my toes, my chewed
up finger nails,/
niggah/ wif the curls in yr hair/
mr. louisiana hot link/ i want my stuff back/
my rhytums & my voice/
Open my mouth/ & let me talk ya outta throwin my shit in the sewar

this is some delicate leg & whimsical kiss i gotta have to give to my choice/
without you runnin off wit alla my shit/
now you cant have me less i give me away/
& i waz doin all that til ya run off on a good thing/
Who is this you left me wit?.. some simple bitch
widda bad attitude/ i wants my things/
i want my arm wit the hot iron scar/ & my leg wit the
flea bite/ i want my calloused feet & quik language back
in my mouth/ fried plantains/ pineapple pear juice/
sun-ra & joseph & jules/ i want my own things/ how i lived them/
& give me my memories/ how i waz when i waz there/
you cant have them or do nothin wit them/
stealin my shit from me/ dont make it yrs/ makes it stolen/

somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ & i waz standin
there/ lookin at myself/ the whole time
& it waznt a spirit took my stuff/
waz a man whose ego walked round like Rodan’s shadow/
waz a man faster n my innocence/
waz a lover i made too much room for.... almost run off wit alla my stuff/
& i didnt know i’d give it up so quik/ & the one runnin wit it/
don’t know he got it/
& i’m shoutin “this is mine”/
& he dont know he got it/
my stuff is the anonymous ripped off treasure of the year/
Did you know somebody almost got away wit ME????/
ME in a plastic bag under their arm/
ME, Andrea Maria Blackwell danglin on a string of personal carelessness/
I’m spattered wit mud & city rain/
& no i didnt get a chance to take a douche/
Hey man/ this is NOT your perogative/
I gotta have me in my pocket to get round like a good woman should/
& make the poem in the pot or the chicken in the dance/ what i got to do?
I gotta get my stuff to do it TO/
Why dont ya find yr own things/
& leave this package OF me for my destiny/
What ya got to get from me?
I’ll give it to ya/ yeh/ i’ll give it to ya/
round 5:00 in the winter/
when the sky is blue-red/
& Dew City is gettin pressed/
If it’s really my stuff/
ya gotta give it to me if ya really want it/

i’m the only one/ can handle it


one thing i don't need
is any more apologies
i got sorry greetin me at my front door
you can keep yrs
i don't know what to do wit em
they dont open doors
or bring the sun back
they dont make me happy
or get a mornin paper
Didnt nobody stop usin my tears to wash cars
cuz a sorry

i am simply tired
of collectin
i didnt know
i was so important toyou
i'm gonna haveta throw some away
i cant get to the clothes in my closet
for alla the sorries
i'm gonna tack a sign to my door
leave a message by the phone
'if you called
to say yr sorry
call somebody
i dont use em anymore'
i let sorry/ didnt meanta/ & how cd i know abt that
take a walk down a dark & musty street in brooklyn
i'm gonna do exactly what i want to
& i wont be sorry for none of it
letta sorry soothe yr soul/ i'm gonna soothe mine

you were always inconsistent
doin somethin & then bein sorry
beatin my heart to death
talkin bout you sorry
i will not call
i'm not goin to be nice
i will raise my voice
& scream & holler
& break things & race the engine
& tell all yr secrets bout yrself to yr face
& i will list in detail everyone of my wonderful lovers
& their ways
i will play oliver lake
& i wont be sorry for none of it

i loved you on purpose
i was open on purpose
i still crave vulnerability & close talk
& i'm not even sorry bout you bein sorry
you can carry all the guilt & grime ya wanna
just dont give it to me
i cant use another sorry
next time
you should admit
you're mean/ low-down/ triflin/ & no count straight out
steada bein sorry alla the time
enjoy bein yrself
Written by Ntozake Shange

Scenes on youtube:
Alfre doing the scene, the woman does not AGE, brava!

Janet Jackson doing Sorry
 To sort out and do Yoda knows what, when I have the bandwidth.  Sometimes I miss that little Brother word processor, and sometimes it's just a good day to eat frybread.
  The downshift from 3D is cumbersome... uoeno!

This is a podcast from before the movie was made..  Her parents pulled the same new-mown bullshit on me. 
ugh...pisses me off, we're both a wreck and her folks are probably idk.....we're not blood, her aunt was my Hackensack Stepmonster.

I dont know how people reach authors like that. But this causes me some distress because....I need to tell her the story of when they put a that brick wall between us on black sheep quarantine. 

So, I'm trying to do a podcast that might get to her ... I don't know but nobody really gives up on family....we're kinda stupid like that.  I hope I count.  But her Aunt launched a shame campaign from MY MOTHER's kitchen I think she ought to know about it.  I'm concerned for her health and if anything, ... It just feels like a good time to try again.

Have you ever had a big buffer put up between people you love in your OWN family?  Well, one of Ntozake's sophisticated aunties never let me meet her, no matter what. Her aunt was my stepmonster from Hackensack.  I know she is disabled, now, so am I.  Since the rant that broke  MaBell's ritcher scale all up and down the eastern seaboard, I have been trying to connect with her.
It seems our families had an agenda and now I KNOW we were rooked, bamboozled, blady yada yada...
She sounded so despondent and I wish we could rant it out together.
I tried to recite one of her poems, but I can't without interrupting myself with my own rants about all that Ayn Rand bullshit, they pulled on our hopes and dreams.
They HAD the means!
They wanted me to stick to my BBBs, and freaked when I got to Joplin. 
As it turns out, we got some "negroes" on Dad's side who played in "Elmer Radd's Cotton Club Orchestra" hmm... 
I would love to know what her dad did for a livin....if she even knew.
Mine was playing Troll King of the dungeon at Ft. Meade and cussing out the Washington Post.  He had and interesting day and the rest of the hour was filled with rants about the teacher's union.  I always imagined she got her masters in teaching in a K-mart blue light special, cuz....dayamn!  When she was awarded a congressional attaboy upon retirement, I knew the dixiecratic agenda at hand and could NOT believe they think the dummy-down of America would work! 
The apparent diploma mill was called Pitt.  I did not apply there, but it didn't matter, even if the class of '83 hadn't lost it's survival benefits.  I imagine the university system at large,  made a mint on application fees alone.

Somebody almost walked off wit alla our stuff and some of them are still laughing at me, like I'm some kinda chew toy.  Its PATHETIC! and I'm TELLIN'.
We had a saying in the Blackwell house ....
and so I stammer...had a lisp...and didn't give a fuzzy rat's ass where Sally sold her fucking seashells!

FCGWCSWtRiE hit Levittown@Belair of which I am the Fresh Princess of.  The family moved there in 1964, when George Seals walked off the Skin's field, and apparently hung out, helped unpack and figure out what in the hell he was gonna do next. (humela, humela, humela), when  Washpo had some fun playing "Where's Big George?", we were tryna keep a LOW PROFILE.  I came along in '65 after one of the neighbors outted him and for years, they thought the other blew the whistle.

The fear-mongering hadn't died down from the man trying to earn his degree with his family in tow.  But we got the house from an Army guy who's probably still kicking his own ass about it, if he survived 'Nam.
The houses that followed were another social experiment but the houses weren't the same quality, they were meant to break down and say dirty liberals and other thans, can't keep a house together.
And as Black folks moved out of DC, they gentrified it and now the Shipley Terrace apartment rents for 1300/month.  More than the mortgage on a 3/4 lot my 4br/3bath house I used-ta-have in NOT Atlanta.  Buckhead is insane.
I am compiling brainfarts from here and there and still haven't figured out which social network will sit still long enough so I can get some work done.
Richard Marcus laughed at me because that's a "white man's problem".
We both fell out and I gave him a challenge.
He gave me some ideas to play with and decided to defer our disagreements to a Chi Pie vs NY cheese cracker challenge.
It seems I was worth the bother, and passed me a couple of torches, I couldn't afford had I made it to some kind of art school.....rant.
He said I'm a writer.  (no shit, an A+ on some book report I'd pooped out at NOT Cambridge...
One day the UNIX Networking phones went down (mercury went retrograde and I had a little fun with some bible bashers *snortles*) and we were starting to get bored with the brain-shunt games and decided to talk to each other.  What a concept.
We were going through another wave of layoffs and checked in with each other for what're we gonna do nOW?
And we'd been blowing up Monsterboard for a year.
How low is the severance now?
Can we volunteer before it's down to a bag of chips and a lotto ticket?
My hair was getting short, now....what to do-wacka-do-wacka-do?

I asked what they would be doing if money were no problem.  Not ONE of us wanted to do what we were not doing when the phones were down.

Not ONE of us...  We didn't actually do IT to DO IT.
I found that kinda funny.
I was a Reiki master and wondered if I could make that happen, but the gap was so high, I had little wiggle room to set up a studio in the basement....or somethin.
Had my house up for sale for over a year but had no energy and a freeloader who was supposed to barter for his rent.  He cut up one dead tree, messed up a perfectly good wall with a mural I'd plan to market for him and he called it "art"....and had to go.
I knew he wasn't a pedo, but if I say, do NOT tickle my kid, do NOT ask me why.....more than once. See ya and get your shit out of my GARAGE.

Well, I've got this HUGE package of vindication to deliver and I just can't seem to get there from here.
So, what I gotta do?  Send up smoke signals? 
She just sounded so despondent and depression is an issue in the family. 
So I worry....I'm a worrier.
  I've been waiting to wrap my arms around her and let her know how proud we, who shall not be mainstreamed, are of her.
I don't care how many Bozo buttons you pin on a person, sometimes the attaboys gotta come from some kinda kin...kindred..idk. 
But I need to hug that least tell her a story she never heard the side of.  I don't think that's fair as I reconnect with people I've missed for 30 years.

We are not blood, but that upper-middle class, taxed out of commission generation sold us out and kicked our hopes and dreams to the curb.
This nasty little war on women has me recommending this book to any kind of woman...  I maintain the logic holds.

You cannot raise a country by damning the next generation like this.
Our family has an "I don't wanna hear it", attitude that slams the door in our faces when it's beyond their itty bitty comfort zones.
I need to know if they pulled that "Destined for Greatness" crap on her too.

Brain Damage indeed.....remember QUALITY?  Where in the hell is SINBAD's blue Dot?

I'll pick this up when I can.  Much to do and what not...  that eye-closey thing sounds like a 'do'.
Let's see what happens to those links when I hit "publish"
squinting....this could be an eyeburn..

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