June 2013
2 posts
HOWLING STAR: How to Read a George R.R. Martin Book →
thestariscalling.tumblr.com
- BUY a copy
- FIND a nice spot to read where you won’t be disturbed (you’ll be there for a while)
And here’s the most important rule:
3. NEVER GET ATTACHED TO ANY OF THE CHARACTERS EVER FOR ANY REASON BECAUSE THEY’RE ALL GOING TO BE TAKEN FROM YOU AND YOU WILL BE LEFT IN…
May 2013
2 posts
When a nosy classmate (who always compares himself to others) asks me how far along I've gotten with studying for our exam.
I’m like:
April 2013
1 post
When a gunner gets a question wrong in class but still tries to explain or justify his answer.
I’m like:
March 2013
4 posts
February 2013
5 posts
“Northerners indulge in an extremely dangerously luxury. They seem to feel that because they fought on the right side during The Civil War, and won, they have earned the right to merely deplore what is going on in the South, without taking any responsibility for it; and that they can ignore what is happening in Northern cities because what is happening in Little Rock or Birmingham is worse. Well, in the first place, it is not possible for anyone who has not endured both to know which is ‘worse.’ I know Negroes who prefer the South and white Southerners, because ‘At least there, you haven’t got to play any guessing games!’ The guessing games referred to have driven more than one Negro into the narcotics ward, the madhouse or the river.”
—
James Baldwin
Um…James was not here for the MYTH that racism doesn’t exist in the northern states of the U.S. I’ve encountered so many White northerners that are like…”what racism?” Seriously. He wrote this over 5 decades ago and it’s still relevant. Many Northern Whites and Whites who live in the U.K. are deep in their denial about racism. Deep. I had a White male photographer (I’m a photographer; I used to chat with a lot of them via Twitter) insist that racism doesn’t exist in the U.K. I was like…how would you know? How? You don’t experience it. Black photographers who live there had another story to tell, however.
(via gradientlair)
Play
0:58
January 2013
4 posts
December 2012
5 posts
When I look at highlighted text in my casebook and think "When the hell did I read this"?
November 2012
2 posts
October 2012
3 posts
September 2012
1 post
August 2012
4 posts
Play
July 2012
3 posts
“Most Africans arrive in the United States ignorant of this country’s racism. We arrive here ignorant of the horrors of slavery, the terror of Jim Crow, the history of the civil rights movement and the present state of post-racist racism. Lacking analysis of how African Americans have borne most of the brunt of this racism, we buy into stereotypes depicting African Americans as lazy, deviant, and criminal. For their part, most African Americans have little to go on besides the racist depiction of Africa(ns) prevalent in the American education system and in the media. So African Americans end up thinking Africans are a bunch of emaciated petty-tribalists and rapist-polygamists. ….Brother, we haven’t met in over 400 years and this is how you want our reunion to be?”
—The African Guy (via thechanelmuse)
June 2012
2 posts
Andy Ostroy: The Most Outrageous Aspect of the Trayvon Martin Case →
huffingtonpost.com
So now we know, through evidence released by prosecutors this past week, that George Zimmerman, the 28-year-old superhero-wannabe who shot and killed unarmed 17-year-old Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Fla„ on February 26th, had wounds on his head and a broken nose. And as expected, ignorant racists nationwide rushed forward with disingenuous cries of “See!?… that proves the kid had attacked him!” But Zimmerman’s wounds suggest one thing: that Trayvon fought like an animal to save his life.
Ever since this story hit the press I’ve been mortified about how Trayvon has been vilified as the aggressor when all evidence points to him being the one who desperately needed to exercise his state’s Draconian ‘Stand Your Ground’ law. For the life of me I don’t understand why the media has not explored this angle more than it has. The simple fact remains here: that a grown man with a gun, safe in his locked car, against the implicit instruction of a 911 police operator, left that car to pursue, confront and kill a child (yes, racists, under the age of eighteen one is legally considered a child) who was holding nothing more than a bag of Skittles and an iced tea.
What exactly does ‘stand your ground’ mean if not to fight like an animal to save your life when you believe it’s being threatened with deadly force? Why does the fact that Zimmerman suffered wounds serve as evidence that Trayvon initiated the scuffle? To the contrary, Zimmerman’s wounds reinforce that the kid bravely came at his attacker with everything he had. That after screaming for help seventeen times in a desolate area he fought furiously to save himself from being shot dead…something he unfortunately failed to do. Why is no one talking about how it was Trayvon who ‘stood his ground?’ Why does it seem that this law is only being discussed as it applies to Zimmerman?
As for Zimmerman’s claim of self-defense? Bullshit. That defense went out the window the second he stepped from his locked car with a loaded semi-automatic weapon.
May 2012
3 posts
Hysteria
Muse
This was my jam back in the day. Considered learning Bass just to learn this killer bass riff.
April 2012
7 posts
Last Words
Epilogue
Expectations shattered by an experience
Finding myself seduced by stanzas that threaten to
Tear me away from my first love.
Shocked, that the creative void in my soul
Usually flooded with sweet sounds and blue notes
Is instead being filled with similes, metaphor and imagery.
No longer so distant
The seemingly pointless exaltations and incomprehensible stream
Of words from an ancient tower of Babel, or some other age which I care less for,
Have disappeared.
Replaced by topical tales of our own time
And deep descriptions of emotions and experiences that resonate.
Feelings that were only rarely brought on by the so called ‘classics’
Funny how inert words on a page can come alive and speak to you
Now a craft to be honed, rather than a whim to pass the time
To think that a class described as cake
Could help one cake
When trying to bake something to last beyond a regular sell-by-date
End of class date, or graduation date.
The effect of an afterthought that helped me
Express a romantic thought
Final verse
A sayonara stanza,
To an experience that shattered expectations
I hope it lingers
So when I am chilling in a stylish bar,
I can feel inspired
And write some stylish bars.
As (Always)
Stevie Wonder
Hands down my favorite Stevie Wonder tune. I wonder if I still remember the chords on the piano..?
A Letter to the Women of the AUC: From a Sailor to a Siren
I wonder if things are twisted
Whether the blessings that suddenly stuck me so surely
When I laid my eyes upon your visage those years ago
Have been irrevocably injured beyond repair,
Callously covered in cuts and insidiously suffocated
By the very atmosphere that breathed life into our meeting.
To say what has already been said
That if looks could kill, I would long have returned to ashes,
Your smoldering eyes burning through me, set in sweet mahogany.
But Lionel and the gang said you were built like a brick house
And while Martin’s house stands in the distance, I would have to agree.
Yet casting off false idols, I see your humanity
For idolatry is the furthest thing from understanding
Your faults, your fears
Your idiosyncrasies, your imperfections
Your capacity for cruelty.
And yet in spite of this,
You are loved
A friend
A lover
Maybe… just maybe
We should leave this place.
Lioness of Judah
Wrote this one for my Mum. Assignment was to write a poem about someone who inspires you. My Mum is a G :-)
Indomitable
Your spirit that refuses to be bought or sold
Passionately pushes to overcome the trials and tribulations you face
Yet refuses to bend to anyone’s will
Not even the titan I call father
Immeasurable
The debt I owe to thee
For nurturing me and pushing me beyond the restraints
That would shackle and imprison me
Both mentally and physically
Untouchable
The ability you have to inspire and lift me
From the depths of depression and despair that grips me
And help me realize my potential to make my dreams
Reality and taste sweet victory over my limitations
Unflinching
The undeniable fact that you don’t pause to think
Before throwing yourself into battle on my behalf
That you have and will sacrifice anything and everything
For me. That no matter how much I strive for it
I will never be able to repay you.
March 2012
7 posts
A Familiar Shock
My hearing is blinded, but my eyes are no longer deaf
The sea of people around me threatens to drown
My senses at first. Or so I thought
There are pockets of air
In which to take shelter from the storm around me.
But is it really so turbulent?
Looking like an imposing brown mountain from a distance
Yet actually a series of diminutive chocolate hills
Merely grouped together to give the impression of
A grand citadel, instead of a myriad of tiny forts.
Like those fish that swim together to become a mighty sea creature
To deter those who would feed on them.
Inside the patchwork buffer, a cocoon of safety
I am nourished by smiles and hear shaking smiles with my eyes,
though my blinded ears would call it laughing.
My eyes feel my watch as time flows on.
Senses come back to me
Leap of Faith
Oppressive heat seared my shattered nerves
Marked by fatigue I pray not to crumble
Like the broken clay now merely red dirt
Failing to keep form in the situation I find myself in.
Am I doing the right thing?
An adventure
An experience
An exploration
A mistake?
In desperate dash to deliver
The shards of my confidence to a sanctuary of reconstruction
Had I foolishly dived headlong out of the frying pan and into the fire?
The timing was wrong
This supposed bastion of brotherhood was a ghost town
In which not even a cloud moved with any semblance of life.
Never mind the horror that haunts me as I recollect
The mass of danger that surrounded the institution
Reminding me of those places back home that I avoided religiously
Darkness falls yet the heat persists
Laid back on my bed yet without the comfort that should wash over me
Staring at the blank ceiling I wonder…
What have I gotten myself into?
