So the second big project for 2005 is the novel. I figure this is my year to take on the big stuff that I’ve stayed away from. With the novel I plan on taking my time. I’ve got other projects on the burner, and the novel is in the back, but right now, it feels good to finally start getting this story out. Maybe I’ll put some of it up here. Who knows.
I've had the concept for this book for the last two years. But the thought of actually sitting down and trying to write it has been too big for me to even think of. But then, someone pissed me off. This novelist I met was aloof, when we were talking I said "Three novels! Impressive. I don't know if I could write one."
"Well, we all have our talents..." He said it in the most, I am-better-then-you tone. What?!? Please, I was just trying to be nice and break the ice. He read some of his work for the High School students at the event we were at, and I swear I caught several of them dozing off. Then I got up and gave a solid performance. No, this guy is just the fuel i need. internalizing it this way makes writing the book like a slam. And when I comes to the slam, I win, cause that's what I do.
At least that's how I felt before I started working on the first chapter. I thought, hey, I'll kick this books ass! But I'm half-way through the first chapter thinking, "What the hell was I thinking." This is my third novel attempt. The first one I wrote thirty-nine bad chapters. I started working on it in 1996. Good concepts, horrible execution. The second novel I stated work on was in 1999, again good concepts, and less horrible writing, but still bad. Since then I worked primarily on short stories when I came to prose writing. I've got a mini collection. All of which I like some more then others. I felt like i needed to really work the whole short form to understand the long form better. Not sure if I understand either one, but I feel good about where I'm at. So I'm working on the new novel and unlike anything else I've ever written it's coming slowly. I'm loving what's coming, but the pace of it is making me think it will take years to write this piece. Especially with all I have on the plate. But screw it, "We all have our talents." Well this will be one of mine.
Friday, December 03, 2004
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Owning it.
So we are back on Griot: He Who Speaks the Sweet Word, and man does it feel good. As a group the four of us are hitting on all cylinders. David is showing the vulnerability, I've been looking for. Larry, is breaking his own walls down, and Barb is directing with her hyper focused precision in an effort to make us perfect for when we head to NY. I'm excited. Very excited. I realized this week what my problem as an actor has been with Griot. Blast of truth here: I have never felt truly comfortable with Griot and the characters I've been playing. I think because on a whole, I play characters that aren't the center of the scene, the majority of the characters I play in the piece are mostly supporting. This was a little hard for my ego. I mean, I was given the commission for this piece, I did a large majority of the writing, the play is my concept, and damn it, I wanted to star in it. But that line of thought was stopping me from doing the real work. Ego has to go out the door for an artist to truly work. This time out, I realized if I go into the performance working with and for the other actors, I will stand out. And that's what I've been doing. Working what I got to do, to the point that I feel like now, I am serving the work. And that is what this whole thing is supposed to be about serving the play, and the play serves the audience.
On other fronts, most of the work with "Chalk" has slowed down. Mostly because I need someone on my team to help realize the piece in the business aspect. Barb is too busy with a million and one other project, and so am I. She and I work best together on the creative side. As for business I need a manager, or an agent someone that is about me, and my work, has the connections and to make things pop. But hasn’t that been my struggle for a long time? Either way I keep on keepin’ on because, that’s what I do.
Earlier someone wrote that I was whining too much in this blog. I disagree. I talk about my struggles, but, I’m not complaining. It’s life. Everyone deals with it. There is nothing special about my struggles. They are what they are. I thank God for them because they make me who I am. If I was like many of my friends who are artist, with no children and no cares, I may be doing the same thing they are doing, nothing. My children, my life, the obstacles all of it make me a stronger writer, and dedicated artist, struggling to find the space between it all. This gives me the determination that I will succeed. What success is? I’m not sure, but I will get there. Because that’s what I do at my best, I live up to my motto “I’ll find a way or make one.” At worse I whine a little in this blog, bare with me.
On other fronts, most of the work with "Chalk" has slowed down. Mostly because I need someone on my team to help realize the piece in the business aspect. Barb is too busy with a million and one other project, and so am I. She and I work best together on the creative side. As for business I need a manager, or an agent someone that is about me, and my work, has the connections and to make things pop. But hasn’t that been my struggle for a long time? Either way I keep on keepin’ on because, that’s what I do.
Earlier someone wrote that I was whining too much in this blog. I disagree. I talk about my struggles, but, I’m not complaining. It’s life. Everyone deals with it. There is nothing special about my struggles. They are what they are. I thank God for them because they make me who I am. If I was like many of my friends who are artist, with no children and no cares, I may be doing the same thing they are doing, nothing. My children, my life, the obstacles all of it make me a stronger writer, and dedicated artist, struggling to find the space between it all. This gives me the determination that I will succeed. What success is? I’m not sure, but I will get there. Because that’s what I do at my best, I live up to my motto “I’ll find a way or make one.” At worse I whine a little in this blog, bare with me.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Growing Seeds
Today I got the word that I had been chosen to recieve a grant from the State of Florida!!!!! The Grant is the Individual Artist Fellowship. I applied for the interdisciplinary Artist category. This is the first year that I have applied for grants, four in total. I haven't applied before, because i didn't really see the importance of it. I always thought the money would be nice, but it wasn't big enough incentive, as I figured most of the big money grants, I would not recieve. It's only been in the last year, (when money has been tight) and I began thinking that in order to break through to the "bigger leagues" I need to find something that translated in the acedemic world. Thus a Grant on the resume looks really good. So I started applying. I feel pretty confident in saying that the other Grants are long shots, but right now, I'm really happy about the one i just recieved.
Figuring out how to spend the money wisely is now the next chore. I've got so many ideas about what I want to do, but all of them eat the award of 5,000 grand pretty quickly.
In the meantime, GRIOT has begun it's production cycle again. I am sooo blessed to work with talented folks like David, Larry, and Barbara. We do some magical things together. I can see how all of us have grown since the last time we performed the piece. The two new part of the the play seem to be going well, but we haven't tried them with an audience yet. Barb and I have perfected our working relationship in reguards to GRIOT. Initially it was hard for both of us. For me as the head writer, I had a vision I wanted to keep intact, and at times would step on Bab's directing toes. On her part she at times, unintentionally limited my creativy by pushing us forward, when I wanted to create more with a piece. This time out, I'm being very aware of the postion she's in and she is giving me more freedom.
Currently, I'm in the process of sending out Griot packages to everyone and their momma trying to get some interest from different folks before we get to NY so we can get them out to see the play. It's our hope to use the piece asa vehicle to get a run in NY. Today, I'm going to start targeting poeple outside the box, and get them to come. By this, I mean people like Camille Cosby, (Bill's wife) this is the type of show she would love and as a producer of the "Having Our Say" I think it would be a great idea to have her come out. All of it is a long shot, but so was the Grant.
As far as CHALK is concerned, I'm somewhat lukewarm on it. Things aren't working out the way I had hoped they would. I have to sit down in the near future and get back on the planning. I think the major problem with the progress of the piece is me. With all the other projects I'm involved with, I am the engine that pushes the work forward. With Chalk, I was taking a back seat and letting others do some of the work. I did this primarily because I need to work on other things. But it is becoming evident, that I need to roll my sleeves up and jump back into the fray.
Still working on the screenplay. In the middle of writing, I had to move, so things have not been as steady as I'd like as far as the pace of writing, but on a whole the piece is still moving forward, and at this point, that's all I really need.
Figuring out how to spend the money wisely is now the next chore. I've got so many ideas about what I want to do, but all of them eat the award of 5,000 grand pretty quickly.
In the meantime, GRIOT has begun it's production cycle again. I am sooo blessed to work with talented folks like David, Larry, and Barbara. We do some magical things together. I can see how all of us have grown since the last time we performed the piece. The two new part of the the play seem to be going well, but we haven't tried them with an audience yet. Barb and I have perfected our working relationship in reguards to GRIOT. Initially it was hard for both of us. For me as the head writer, I had a vision I wanted to keep intact, and at times would step on Bab's directing toes. On her part she at times, unintentionally limited my creativy by pushing us forward, when I wanted to create more with a piece. This time out, I'm being very aware of the postion she's in and she is giving me more freedom.
Currently, I'm in the process of sending out Griot packages to everyone and their momma trying to get some interest from different folks before we get to NY so we can get them out to see the play. It's our hope to use the piece asa vehicle to get a run in NY. Today, I'm going to start targeting poeple outside the box, and get them to come. By this, I mean people like Camille Cosby, (Bill's wife) this is the type of show she would love and as a producer of the "Having Our Say" I think it would be a great idea to have her come out. All of it is a long shot, but so was the Grant.
As far as CHALK is concerned, I'm somewhat lukewarm on it. Things aren't working out the way I had hoped they would. I have to sit down in the near future and get back on the planning. I think the major problem with the progress of the piece is me. With all the other projects I'm involved with, I am the engine that pushes the work forward. With Chalk, I was taking a back seat and letting others do some of the work. I did this primarily because I need to work on other things. But it is becoming evident, that I need to roll my sleeves up and jump back into the fray.
Still working on the screenplay. In the middle of writing, I had to move, so things have not been as steady as I'd like as far as the pace of writing, but on a whole the piece is still moving forward, and at this point, that's all I really need.
Sunday, October 24, 2004
Long time gone
So it's been almost a month since I've sat down to write this journal. If anyone out there has been reading and wondering where I've been, I'm sorry, but I've been consumed with writing other stuff. Namely a new screenplay, and reworking some of the Griot script.
Since the last time I wrote I've been working my bum off. I was in Annapolis for a week working with a production of Chalk at Broadneck High School. The kids and teacher of this school were absolutely brilliant. It's still difficult to teach students a "Poetical" because very few people have seen what a "Poetical" actually is, but on a whole I thought the kids did really well. I don't know if I'll be able to see the actual production, but I will be very interested to see how it came out. The teach working with the kids is one of the dedicated hard working teachers that I meet all over the country, but don't get enough credit. These children are blessed to have such an incredible individual as their teacher.
So the screenplay I've been working on something really different. I've never been crazy about writing screenplays, because it seems like the pie in the sky. With a play I can pretty much control when it hits the stage. With a movie, no chance. I'm writing a really simple story, that hopefully, one day, I will be in a position to film. It's right in line with what I said earlier about doing a movie in 2005.
Also on the film front I was asked to write screenplay for a film that was to be filmed here in Jacksonville. The concept was brought to me by creative types that I totally trust. So I worked on an idea to pitch to the money types and from there, we would see what was happening. We did and the money types loved it. They agreed to pay me, to write the screenplay. I decided I would not write a word until I saw some money. I'm glad I did. First it was you'll get the money next week, then it was the week after that, then it's we have to re-discuss this. Blah-blah-blah. Of course they never came with the money. They came back and said I should write it for free and when the movie is done we share in the profits. Yeah right. I'd end up writing for two months then the project would go nowhere, and I've got a script I can't use and no money. No thank you.
So that's about it not much cooking on this end but hopefully next week I'll have a lot me.
Since the last time I wrote I've been working my bum off. I was in Annapolis for a week working with a production of Chalk at Broadneck High School. The kids and teacher of this school were absolutely brilliant. It's still difficult to teach students a "Poetical" because very few people have seen what a "Poetical" actually is, but on a whole I thought the kids did really well. I don't know if I'll be able to see the actual production, but I will be very interested to see how it came out. The teach working with the kids is one of the dedicated hard working teachers that I meet all over the country, but don't get enough credit. These children are blessed to have such an incredible individual as their teacher.
So the screenplay I've been working on something really different. I've never been crazy about writing screenplays, because it seems like the pie in the sky. With a play I can pretty much control when it hits the stage. With a movie, no chance. I'm writing a really simple story, that hopefully, one day, I will be in a position to film. It's right in line with what I said earlier about doing a movie in 2005.
Also on the film front I was asked to write screenplay for a film that was to be filmed here in Jacksonville. The concept was brought to me by creative types that I totally trust. So I worked on an idea to pitch to the money types and from there, we would see what was happening. We did and the money types loved it. They agreed to pay me, to write the screenplay. I decided I would not write a word until I saw some money. I'm glad I did. First it was you'll get the money next week, then it was the week after that, then it's we have to re-discuss this. Blah-blah-blah. Of course they never came with the money. They came back and said I should write it for free and when the movie is done we share in the profits. Yeah right. I'd end up writing for two months then the project would go nowhere, and I've got a script I can't use and no money. No thank you.
So that's about it not much cooking on this end but hopefully next week I'll have a lot me.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
It could be worse
So I’m in Chicago as a part of the Single File Theatre Festival. And I’m here to report it’s not much of a festival. I dig the people that put the festival together, but I must admit that the lack of audience is definitely a downer. The staff is great. The space is good. Chicago is one of my faviorite cities especially this time of the year. But coming up here from Jacksonville on my own dime to perform for 12 people one night, and 6 the next is a little rough. Thankfully, Holly Bass is also with me along with out director Barbara. Holly got into the festival because I prodded her to apply, I thought it would be cool for all of us to be there together. Thank God I did. It’s not half as bad when you have someone to commiserate with.
This is nothing new. I’ve done this several times in New York at the Nuyorican. I good venue that lives off of it’s reputation. And it’s deserved. The Nuyo is legendary. And whenever I’m in town, I always stop by. I love the place, but still it has a lot to be desired when it comes to theatre and promotion. They don’t have to promote the poetry, because it is a staple, but theatre is something altogether different. So several of the times I’ve been in NY, I’ve had microscopic audiences. It hurts some when you are pouring your heart out on the stage, and get nothing in return. But hey, that’s the way it is sometimes. It’s all apart of paying your dues, and Lord knows I’ve got a ton more to pay. So you suck it up, get on stage and give the 4 people in the audience the best show they ever saw.
This is nothing new. I’ve done this several times in New York at the Nuyorican. I good venue that lives off of it’s reputation. And it’s deserved. The Nuyo is legendary. And whenever I’m in town, I always stop by. I love the place, but still it has a lot to be desired when it comes to theatre and promotion. They don’t have to promote the poetry, because it is a staple, but theatre is something altogether different. So several of the times I’ve been in NY, I’ve had microscopic audiences. It hurts some when you are pouring your heart out on the stage, and get nothing in return. But hey, that’s the way it is sometimes. It’s all apart of paying your dues, and Lord knows I’ve got a ton more to pay. So you suck it up, get on stage and give the 4 people in the audience the best show they ever saw.
Friday, September 03, 2004
The week that was
So I wrote earlier that i was not going to write about my family in this blog. And for the most part I will not, but this week, family is all wrapped up in my work, and there is no way to write this blog honestly, without dealing with this week.
My father is a great man. A baptist minister with a huge congration. I love and respect him. But I will never be him. For a long time I think I wanted to live up to that. Not necessarily becoming him, but living up to his standard. Maybe it's the influence of my mother who has set such high standards for me, and I've always felt inclined to reach for them. Lately though, I've been realizing that their standard may not fit mine. Not that I am shooting lower, but at a completely different target. They never wanted me to follow this path I'm on. I don't have the language to tell them that i didn't choose the path, it choose me. I just do what i need to do to live. This is very much a survival thing to me writing and performing is like breathing I can't just stop. But they don't understand that. They think it takes away from my time with my immediate family, but it doesn't no more then any other father working a 9 to 5.
So this week in the local weekly newspaper, Folio Weekly, I was the cover story. I've know the write of the piece for awhile and have a good level of comfort with him, and I think he did a good job. But i haven't been able to enjoy the story or seeing my face all over town, primarily because of my parent's reaction.
My mother called it smut. Based on two things. One in the article, I use some foul language. Shit, ass, and fuck. (in that order) all in context and all make sense, I wish i hadn't for her sake, but on a whole, it is what it is. Secondly, I spoke about my personal life. Things that has happend to me on my journey. I am not ashamed by any of it. It is my life, I am not perfect. Things have happened, what is more important is how i handled them. Personally, I proud of my desicions, even the bad ones that have lead me to this point. I'm not where I want to be, but I've come so far from where I was.
My father is a great man. A baptist minister with a huge congration. I love and respect him. But I will never be him. For a long time I think I wanted to live up to that. Not necessarily becoming him, but living up to his standard. Maybe it's the influence of my mother who has set such high standards for me, and I've always felt inclined to reach for them. Lately though, I've been realizing that their standard may not fit mine. Not that I am shooting lower, but at a completely different target. They never wanted me to follow this path I'm on. I don't have the language to tell them that i didn't choose the path, it choose me. I just do what i need to do to live. This is very much a survival thing to me writing and performing is like breathing I can't just stop. But they don't understand that. They think it takes away from my time with my immediate family, but it doesn't no more then any other father working a 9 to 5.
So this week in the local weekly newspaper, Folio Weekly, I was the cover story. I've know the write of the piece for awhile and have a good level of comfort with him, and I think he did a good job. But i haven't been able to enjoy the story or seeing my face all over town, primarily because of my parent's reaction.
My mother called it smut. Based on two things. One in the article, I use some foul language. Shit, ass, and fuck. (in that order) all in context and all make sense, I wish i hadn't for her sake, but on a whole, it is what it is. Secondly, I spoke about my personal life. Things that has happend to me on my journey. I am not ashamed by any of it. It is my life, I am not perfect. Things have happened, what is more important is how i handled them. Personally, I proud of my desicions, even the bad ones that have lead me to this point. I'm not where I want to be, but I've come so far from where I was.
Friday, August 27, 2004
Who loves you baby?
Is anyone out there? Sometimes I want to ask myself, what the hell am I doing? I have to remind myself to follow my own path, but sometimes, this “own path shit” gets lonely. I mean lonely as I have no professional peers, besides my right hand wonder-twinn Bassey Ikpi. She is one of the few people I started out with and am still in constant contact with. I know how this happened. I started out with a lot of poets, slamming, and touring. But now, I’m not really in that loop anymore. Whenever I reach out to those people they make it very clear that the past does not define the present. It’s too bad, cause it would be good to have a base of folks I could talk to about the things I was trying to do. The place I’m at now, is a mixture of performance poetry and hip-hop theatre. Because I didn’t start off with the Hip-Hop Theatre cats, I don’t know them well and there seems to be a certain level of distrust. We are all decidedly protective of our own little worlds. Meanwhile I’m knocking on both doors trying to make it happen. All of this happened when I started reading people I know
Enough of the whining.
I do have a strong group around me. My peeps, Larry Knight, David Pugh… incredible poets/writers. I don’t think either one of them realize how talented they are. Quite honestly, because they don’t realize how good they are, I don’t feel like they are living up to their potential. But they will. It just takes a bit for the realization to hit home. I can see Larry beginning to come into his own in performance. Before he started working with my director Barbara, he was good. Good words, great voice. Now he has all of that including soul. He’s broken out of the confines his great voice put him in, and found the soul of his work. Every time we perform together, I am somewhat amazed at his growth. I don’t think he even notices, he just does it. David was much more polished when he started working with Barbs but I think that is part of David’s problem. He is an incredible performer, but he needs to dig deeper. I know D, carries a lot of pain with him. It’s written all over his face, and I think it stops him from digging deep, and being honest on stage. So now he gives great performances, but there is no vulnerability. It’s like watching Superman beat up bank robbers. To the average human, men with guns are a big deal, but to Supes? Nada. Now, let Lex pull out some Kryptonite, and you have good drama. David is flawless, but sometimes on stage, I’m looking to see the flawed human we all are. That being said, there aren’t many people in the world that can rock like David. I have seen women wiggling in there seats listening to him. The three of us on stage is gunpowder, and Barbara is the match.
What to say about Babszilla? She drives me crazy, but has been such a good friend, she drives me to work as hard as I do and sometimes there is little money for both of us at the end of the rainbow. She took me from a poet that speed through all his poems into what I am today, and I still have a ways to go. I’m still learning consistency. I think I have it, but I need a higher level of consistency. Everything I do on stage comes from her proding and pushing. She told me when we first started working together, that I had the package, but just needed to learn how to use it. In the last four years she has patiently held me by the hand as I jumped head first into my art. I’ve picked up other professional friends like Holly Bass who has become a sister to me, and a few others. My boy Ian who does all my graphics and web stuff at no cost, has supported me from day one. On the days when I want to quit he always gives me this look of, “What the hell are you thinking” I couldn’t do half the shit I do without him pushing me along. And then there is Stacie. All the words I could write on this page could not sum up how she has supported me, but per her request, I will refrain from writing about her on this blog. All in all, these people keep me afloat.
Even still, on days like today, I feel like: Where am I going? I mean in my heart I know this path that has being created in front of me is where I need to go, it’s the manifest destiny that I know is there, but sometimes can’t see the end result. The thing is, I’ve been walking down this road for a long time but honestly don’t really know where it’s heading. I keep myself going, because I’m not doing this for the destination, as much as I am doing it for the work. Primarily, I’m scared to think of the end. Because if I do, it may distract me from the work, but maybe the work is the end. Maybe, I don’t need the lofty goals, and just the work. The uncertainty of one foot in front of the other is very similar to how I wrote poems. With poems I never know where they are going to go, but I’ve learned the key with poetry, for me, is to not worry about where the poem is going, but trust that it is going.
Enough of the whining.
I do have a strong group around me. My peeps, Larry Knight, David Pugh… incredible poets/writers. I don’t think either one of them realize how talented they are. Quite honestly, because they don’t realize how good they are, I don’t feel like they are living up to their potential. But they will. It just takes a bit for the realization to hit home. I can see Larry beginning to come into his own in performance. Before he started working with my director Barbara, he was good. Good words, great voice. Now he has all of that including soul. He’s broken out of the confines his great voice put him in, and found the soul of his work. Every time we perform together, I am somewhat amazed at his growth. I don’t think he even notices, he just does it. David was much more polished when he started working with Barbs but I think that is part of David’s problem. He is an incredible performer, but he needs to dig deeper. I know D, carries a lot of pain with him. It’s written all over his face, and I think it stops him from digging deep, and being honest on stage. So now he gives great performances, but there is no vulnerability. It’s like watching Superman beat up bank robbers. To the average human, men with guns are a big deal, but to Supes? Nada. Now, let Lex pull out some Kryptonite, and you have good drama. David is flawless, but sometimes on stage, I’m looking to see the flawed human we all are. That being said, there aren’t many people in the world that can rock like David. I have seen women wiggling in there seats listening to him. The three of us on stage is gunpowder, and Barbara is the match.
What to say about Babszilla? She drives me crazy, but has been such a good friend, she drives me to work as hard as I do and sometimes there is little money for both of us at the end of the rainbow. She took me from a poet that speed through all his poems into what I am today, and I still have a ways to go. I’m still learning consistency. I think I have it, but I need a higher level of consistency. Everything I do on stage comes from her proding and pushing. She told me when we first started working together, that I had the package, but just needed to learn how to use it. In the last four years she has patiently held me by the hand as I jumped head first into my art. I’ve picked up other professional friends like Holly Bass who has become a sister to me, and a few others. My boy Ian who does all my graphics and web stuff at no cost, has supported me from day one. On the days when I want to quit he always gives me this look of, “What the hell are you thinking” I couldn’t do half the shit I do without him pushing me along. And then there is Stacie. All the words I could write on this page could not sum up how she has supported me, but per her request, I will refrain from writing about her on this blog. All in all, these people keep me afloat.
Even still, on days like today, I feel like: Where am I going? I mean in my heart I know this path that has being created in front of me is where I need to go, it’s the manifest destiny that I know is there, but sometimes can’t see the end result. The thing is, I’ve been walking down this road for a long time but honestly don’t really know where it’s heading. I keep myself going, because I’m not doing this for the destination, as much as I am doing it for the work. Primarily, I’m scared to think of the end. Because if I do, it may distract me from the work, but maybe the work is the end. Maybe, I don’t need the lofty goals, and just the work. The uncertainty of one foot in front of the other is very similar to how I wrote poems. With poems I never know where they are going to go, but I’ve learned the key with poetry, for me, is to not worry about where the poem is going, but trust that it is going.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Eunice
Eunice
By: A. L. Letson Jr.
“Eunice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Girl, get down here and wash these dishes.
You know what you suppose to do!!!”
You got to think
That somewhere along the line
Her parents had something to do with it.
North Cakalaky whuppins’
from the hand that loved her the most.
It’s summer,
1943 in Tryon North Carolina
And the sun bakes your skin,
Without mercy or regard.
White folks getting red,
like the blood under their skin
is about to boil.
Black folks getting blacka
Like midnight their father,
Has stretched his fingers
around their collective soul
In an effort to taken them home.
Mississippi Goddamn!
But right now we in North Carolina
As Eunice Kathleen Waymon
Sits on the mahogany bench
Ten year old fingers
Preparing to tickle the ebony and ivory
It’s her first piano recital at the Robert E. Lee Library
in Downtown Tryon
and everybody who’s anybody, in this small southern hamlet
has come to see the little colored girl,
that can play so well.
Her parents on the front row,
her four brothers, and three sisters,
floating somewhere in the periphery.
She arches her back
relaxes her fingers and begins
to play.
She doesn’t sing,
She just closes her eyes.
and plays.
There is music in her fingertips,
that comes forward when pressed against
the temporary friction of Piano keys.
She hears the silence between
the notes,
In the wide open spaces
where only her,
and the music reside.
But something is happening outside
She tries to ignore it
and just play.
But something is happening outside
She tries to ignore it
and just play.
Just play,
Just play
Like her teacher taught her
But, it’s too loud and she has to look.
Her fingers continue to move
On autopilot she glances
at the audience
As the librarian, is escorting her parents
from the front row to the back
So a white couple can have their seat.
Mississippi Goddamn.
But we’re in Tryon right now.
And she’s looking at the white keys
beneath her powerless ten year old fingers,
that are still playing
the water in her eyes is too heavy,
and it just wants to fall.
And she wants to stop.
There are some burdens ten year olds
should not be forced to carry,
but she can’t let it drop.
She finishes the song,
To thunderous applause,
But she doesn’t want to play no more.
It aint fun no more.
She wanna go home.
Until over the heads of the smiling,
homogenized, crowd she sees her daddy’s face,
as he mouths the words,
“You know what you suppose to do”
And she closes her eyes
and plays.
But this time her fingers hit the keys harder
Play a little faster.
That wide open space has got fire in it now
Higher than it now
And it just don’t wanna stop.
she can’t let it drop.
So she plays and plays and plays
Until the pain goes away.
Missippipp Goddamn!
But it never goes away for long.
Twenty years later
After she’s renamed herself
From a boyfriend’s pet name,
Nina.
And a French actress.
Simone.
So she can sing in piano bars
to pay for her education
without her momma knowing.
Twenty years from
that piano recital,
she’s a star now.
But the pain don’t stop
It’s born in the faces
Of four dead black girls
Charred in the remains of an Alabama church
Carried on the wings of Negro Spirituals,
And in the righteousness of civil disobedience
It’s given a rhythm by the marching protestors
Who’s eyes were watching God as they put
One foot in front of the other,
The pain is hidden,
Under the weight fire hoses,
Attacking dogs
And swinging nooses
But on June 12th 1963
As the children of Medger Evers
Watch their daddy bleed to death
On the front steps
From a gun shot in the back
The pain becomes to much to bare…
Mississippi Goddamn
And she wants to cry
But she hears her daddy’s voice.
“you know what you suppose to do…”
Ms. Nina Simone
walks out from back stage
Sits on a mahogany bench
Fingers preparing to caress the ebony and ivory
It’s 1964 Carnegie Hal
New York, New York.
And even here black girls should know their place
They want her to laugh
Sing the blues, Gershwin maybe.
And she does
Until that pain comes back.
Half way through the set
She finishes a song, arches her back
Nods to the band
And plays….
Mississippi Goddamn
Copywright 2004 Al Letson
By: A. L. Letson Jr.
“Eunice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Girl, get down here and wash these dishes.
You know what you suppose to do!!!”
You got to think
That somewhere along the line
Her parents had something to do with it.
North Cakalaky whuppins’
from the hand that loved her the most.
It’s summer,
1943 in Tryon North Carolina
And the sun bakes your skin,
Without mercy or regard.
White folks getting red,
like the blood under their skin
is about to boil.
Black folks getting blacka
Like midnight their father,
Has stretched his fingers
around their collective soul
In an effort to taken them home.
Mississippi Goddamn!
But right now we in North Carolina
As Eunice Kathleen Waymon
Sits on the mahogany bench
Ten year old fingers
Preparing to tickle the ebony and ivory
It’s her first piano recital at the Robert E. Lee Library
in Downtown Tryon
and everybody who’s anybody, in this small southern hamlet
has come to see the little colored girl,
that can play so well.
Her parents on the front row,
her four brothers, and three sisters,
floating somewhere in the periphery.
She arches her back
relaxes her fingers and begins
to play.
She doesn’t sing,
She just closes her eyes.
and plays.
There is music in her fingertips,
that comes forward when pressed against
the temporary friction of Piano keys.
She hears the silence between
the notes,
In the wide open spaces
where only her,
and the music reside.
But something is happening outside
She tries to ignore it
and just play.
But something is happening outside
She tries to ignore it
and just play.
Just play,
Just play
Like her teacher taught her
But, it’s too loud and she has to look.
Her fingers continue to move
On autopilot she glances
at the audience
As the librarian, is escorting her parents
from the front row to the back
So a white couple can have their seat.
Mississippi Goddamn.
But we’re in Tryon right now.
And she’s looking at the white keys
beneath her powerless ten year old fingers,
that are still playing
the water in her eyes is too heavy,
and it just wants to fall.
And she wants to stop.
There are some burdens ten year olds
should not be forced to carry,
but she can’t let it drop.
She finishes the song,
To thunderous applause,
But she doesn’t want to play no more.
It aint fun no more.
She wanna go home.
Until over the heads of the smiling,
homogenized, crowd she sees her daddy’s face,
as he mouths the words,
“You know what you suppose to do”
And she closes her eyes
and plays.
But this time her fingers hit the keys harder
Play a little faster.
That wide open space has got fire in it now
Higher than it now
And it just don’t wanna stop.
she can’t let it drop.
So she plays and plays and plays
Until the pain goes away.
Missippipp Goddamn!
But it never goes away for long.
Twenty years later
After she’s renamed herself
From a boyfriend’s pet name,
Nina.
And a French actress.
Simone.
So she can sing in piano bars
to pay for her education
without her momma knowing.
Twenty years from
that piano recital,
she’s a star now.
But the pain don’t stop
It’s born in the faces
Of four dead black girls
Charred in the remains of an Alabama church
Carried on the wings of Negro Spirituals,
And in the righteousness of civil disobedience
It’s given a rhythm by the marching protestors
Who’s eyes were watching God as they put
One foot in front of the other,
The pain is hidden,
Under the weight fire hoses,
Attacking dogs
And swinging nooses
But on June 12th 1963
As the children of Medger Evers
Watch their daddy bleed to death
On the front steps
From a gun shot in the back
The pain becomes to much to bare…
Mississippi Goddamn
And she wants to cry
But she hears her daddy’s voice.
“you know what you suppose to do…”
Ms. Nina Simone
walks out from back stage
Sits on a mahogany bench
Fingers preparing to caress the ebony and ivory
It’s 1964 Carnegie Hal
New York, New York.
And even here black girls should know their place
They want her to laugh
Sing the blues, Gershwin maybe.
And she does
Until that pain comes back.
Half way through the set
She finishes a song, arches her back
Nods to the band
And plays….
Mississippi Goddamn
Copywright 2004 Al Letson
Friday, August 20, 2004
You oughta be in pictures.
So the big goal for 2005 is a movie. It's aboslutely crazy, I know. I have four major projects I have to work on. Plus two grants that I applied for that will basically have me working a fulltime job doing theatre stuff in the new year, if I get them which is highly suspect. But even if I don't get the grants my plate is full. But the whisper has been instistant. The whisper has been saying, "above all create, challenge yourself." I can't be like a million other actors who go to LA or NY begging someone to put them in a film. That's too pedestrian for me. I need to feel like it's in my hands. Maybe it isn't but still, i need to be in action. But above all the ambition, a story has stuck it head out and it is demanding to be told. So I call my film guy and tell him...."Dan, I making a movie this year. I want you to be down, but I'm making the movie if you are or not." I think that was an assholey approach, but when I'm caught up in something I don't have time for pretty speach. Dan knows this. So instead of being bitchy, he says, "I'm down for whatever you are..." That's the first piece. The other piece is Ed. Ed Keyes saved my life once, no BS, I mean he saved my life. He and I have been talking about making a movie together forever, I told him and he of course is down. So I'm doing it. I have a microscopic budget, but so what. I have done more with less and will continue to do so. Watch me.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Tipping Point
Erie Pennsylvania is beautiful this time of the year. I’ve never been here before, but I love it. Of course I’ve probably seen only 1/4 of the city, but that part of seen is so green and peaceful.
I’m in Erie, with my director Barb, to work with the Ophelia Project on ways to create a national push for my play Chalk. Very exciting. The people in the Ophelia Project are genuinely good people. I’ve never done much work with a non-profit before, except watching an ex girl friend work endlessly at her under-funded under appreciated job in the field of environmental health. I never really thought about using my work to connect with a “cause” but hey, if the shoe fits… So I guess maybe a little explanation is needed when discussing the scenario. The Ophelia Project is a national nonprofit that works to end "Relational Aggression". "RA" has been called GIRL AGGRESSION, because it the way girls usually express aggressive tendacities. It's not the out and out fighting, but ignoring someone, spreading rumors, "cattiness" this type of behavior can damage girls for the rest of their lives. Chalk is a play I wrote about girl aggression with this play I created a genre I call a POETICAL.
po·et·i·cal n.
1. a movie or play that uses performance, or “slam” poetry, in it as important elements in developing the story and portraying the emotions of the characters
To be honest, I didn’t actually create a new genre, maybe I named it, or re-energized it, because I think Shakespeare and Greek Theatre were both doing this type of work. I think I just took iambic pentameter and put a beatbox to it. So this is a great way to speak to a new generation of theatre folks. All of this makes Chalk the perfect vehicle for the Ophelia Project. So this weekend I spent a lot of time listening, learning and trying to figure out how to make it all happen. While I’m listening to all the conversation, it hits me that these people not just the Ophelia Project, but people like them, do the real work. The work no one wants to talk about, the heavy lifting that all of us benefit from but have no time or desire to do ourselves.
The one common thing I hear from educators across the country, is how they are tired of teaching children for a test. I think it’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard of. How in the hell can you judge the quality of an education by a standardized test? It’s impossible. What you create is drones, trained to pass a test, not students that are taught to think. But of course politicians have to find someway to validate their existence. So instead of doing the real work necessary to help the youth, they give a test. And of course in disadvantaged areas, the children test poorly. Hmmm wonder why? Could it be that the social-economical culture is created to help them fail? That there are bigger issues then whether they can pass a test. And maybe if we were willing to put tax dollars into our schools instead of subsidiesing tobacco farmers to not grow tobacco, or giving money to NFL teams to build bigger stadiums, just maybe we could create a school system that works.
I’m getting off subject. Chalk has the ability to push my career forward. I’m excited, but not too excited. I’ve learned that all the big plans mean nothing if you don’t work for them. The biggest problem with the “O” project is that they have never done this sort of thing before. And quiet honestly neither have I so, we are both feeling our way through the dark.
I wonder how things work for regular playwrights. The process seems to slow to me. Writing something, and sitting it on the shelf until someone decides to read it. Or the process of trying to get an agent to read your work, and then push you forward. Slow. And it also takes control out of your hands. I can’t do that. I’m sure at some point I will have to, but right now, I just got to keep pushing forward, and work the connections.
I’m in Erie, with my director Barb, to work with the Ophelia Project on ways to create a national push for my play Chalk. Very exciting. The people in the Ophelia Project are genuinely good people. I’ve never done much work with a non-profit before, except watching an ex girl friend work endlessly at her under-funded under appreciated job in the field of environmental health. I never really thought about using my work to connect with a “cause” but hey, if the shoe fits… So I guess maybe a little explanation is needed when discussing the scenario. The Ophelia Project is a national nonprofit that works to end "Relational Aggression". "RA" has been called GIRL AGGRESSION, because it the way girls usually express aggressive tendacities. It's not the out and out fighting, but ignoring someone, spreading rumors, "cattiness" this type of behavior can damage girls for the rest of their lives. Chalk is a play I wrote about girl aggression with this play I created a genre I call a POETICAL.
po·et·i·cal n.
1. a movie or play that uses performance, or “slam” poetry, in it as important elements in developing the story and portraying the emotions of the characters
To be honest, I didn’t actually create a new genre, maybe I named it, or re-energized it, because I think Shakespeare and Greek Theatre were both doing this type of work. I think I just took iambic pentameter and put a beatbox to it. So this is a great way to speak to a new generation of theatre folks. All of this makes Chalk the perfect vehicle for the Ophelia Project. So this weekend I spent a lot of time listening, learning and trying to figure out how to make it all happen. While I’m listening to all the conversation, it hits me that these people not just the Ophelia Project, but people like them, do the real work. The work no one wants to talk about, the heavy lifting that all of us benefit from but have no time or desire to do ourselves.
The one common thing I hear from educators across the country, is how they are tired of teaching children for a test. I think it’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard of. How in the hell can you judge the quality of an education by a standardized test? It’s impossible. What you create is drones, trained to pass a test, not students that are taught to think. But of course politicians have to find someway to validate their existence. So instead of doing the real work necessary to help the youth, they give a test. And of course in disadvantaged areas, the children test poorly. Hmmm wonder why? Could it be that the social-economical culture is created to help them fail? That there are bigger issues then whether they can pass a test. And maybe if we were willing to put tax dollars into our schools instead of subsidiesing tobacco farmers to not grow tobacco, or giving money to NFL teams to build bigger stadiums, just maybe we could create a school system that works.
I’m getting off subject. Chalk has the ability to push my career forward. I’m excited, but not too excited. I’ve learned that all the big plans mean nothing if you don’t work for them. The biggest problem with the “O” project is that they have never done this sort of thing before. And quiet honestly neither have I so, we are both feeling our way through the dark.
I wonder how things work for regular playwrights. The process seems to slow to me. Writing something, and sitting it on the shelf until someone decides to read it. Or the process of trying to get an agent to read your work, and then push you forward. Slow. And it also takes control out of your hands. I can’t do that. I’m sure at some point I will have to, but right now, I just got to keep pushing forward, and work the connections.
Saturday, August 07, 2004
Things Fall apart...
This week is the National Poetry Slam in St. Louis MO. I love the slam, and everytime August comes along, I miss it more. This year though is a little strange. My man from DC, Patrick Washington gave me a call to fill me in on the haps. Patrick, AKA Black Picasso, is an emcee, an incredible rapper, and a very impressive poet. I think these are too separate artforms. They are related but separate. Pic is a good emcee because he's got skills, he's a good poet cause he got the skills. I would be a terrible emcee because i don't have rappin' skills. Most people fall in my category just cause you can rock the mic at a poetry event doesn't mean you can rock with the emcee's. And the same goes for Rappers (they seem to think they can be poets more then the other way around.)
So, Pat's telling me how bad things are in St. Louis. I've never been to the city to perform or anything of the sorts, but from what he's saying the audience is just not there for a Nationals. I've had my beef with each of the Nationals I've been to, but all of them have had incredible crowds. This one seems to be pretty skeletal. All of this brings up a couple thoughts.
1) I miss the hell out the people I started slamming with. People like Phil West, Mike Henry, Regie Gibson, DJ Renegade, Taylor Mali, Ben Porter Lewis. Great people, incredible poets, and good times. I miss them like a mutherphuka! So I am going to make it my mission to reconnect with as many of them as possible. They have all given me so much in my life as a performer. I'm sure by now most of them, have moved on and don't really remember me, but, what the hell.
2) WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE SLAM? I looked on the website, (which by far is the whackest website for Nationals), and read the list of poets competeting. And it looks like a list of has-been-rappers! All these whack ass names! WHY DOES A POET NEED A STAGE NAME? Why are we "spiting" poems? What the hell are they thinking? Then I remember what they are thinking, because I thought the same thing when I entered the slam.
I was coming from Jacksonville a city that had no team, hell there were no teams in Florida at the time. Back then I was a flight attendant for American Airlines and I could fly anywhere for free. This gave me the ability to go to slams at the drop of a dime. When I first heard about the slam it was in 96' when Mouth Almight released the CD from the 94' slam in San Fran. I loved that CD and still own it today. The CD had all these poets with synonyms,flashy names like the Invisible Man,and others. At the time I was looking for the flash so I listened these people non stop. I never NEVER listened to the people with regular names, I mean how good could you be if your name was just Patricia Smith? Then one day I was washing the dishes and the cd just played. The poem was "Undertaker". It was the most amazing thing I'd ever heard. And it was by this lady name Patricia Smith. I will never forget how stupid I was. I felt like the biblical Paul who'd been blind, until the scales fell from his eyes. Just like that I got it. It's not about Flashy names, or assumed idenities, but the work. the words. the heart and soul. This is one the one thing I thought poetry had on hip-hoppers. We speak the truth, or at least we should. Michael Harper said "the job of the poet is to tell the truth" and that truth, the personal truth is what should drive us.
So now the next frame of thought is, how did so many poets collectively not learn that lesson? The answer? Poets like me.
Poets like me who love the slam, but eventually left for whatever reason. Because if Patricia had left before I got in, I never would have known. If Regie Gibson had moved on, how would I have learned? They passed that scaredness of the slam to me, and I have left it on the counter. I can not be mad at who ever picked it up. I should have seen it coming before I left. New poets coming into the slam who cared nothing about the tradition, couldn't tell you who Marc Smith was, didn't care about the shoulders upon which they stood. It upset me, but ultimately, what could I do? So I left, following other paths.
I look at the Slam now, like an old girl friend, one that you have a lot of love for, but everytime you see her, she looks worse that she did the time before. I want to hold her, help her, talk to her about our previous lives. But her eyes are hollow now, and when she looks at me there is no recognition in her face.
So, Pat's telling me how bad things are in St. Louis. I've never been to the city to perform or anything of the sorts, but from what he's saying the audience is just not there for a Nationals. I've had my beef with each of the Nationals I've been to, but all of them have had incredible crowds. This one seems to be pretty skeletal. All of this brings up a couple thoughts.
1) I miss the hell out the people I started slamming with. People like Phil West, Mike Henry, Regie Gibson, DJ Renegade, Taylor Mali, Ben Porter Lewis. Great people, incredible poets, and good times. I miss them like a mutherphuka! So I am going to make it my mission to reconnect with as many of them as possible. They have all given me so much in my life as a performer. I'm sure by now most of them, have moved on and don't really remember me, but, what the hell.
2) WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE SLAM? I looked on the website, (which by far is the whackest website for Nationals), and read the list of poets competeting. And it looks like a list of has-been-rappers! All these whack ass names! WHY DOES A POET NEED A STAGE NAME? Why are we "spiting" poems? What the hell are they thinking? Then I remember what they are thinking, because I thought the same thing when I entered the slam.
I was coming from Jacksonville a city that had no team, hell there were no teams in Florida at the time. Back then I was a flight attendant for American Airlines and I could fly anywhere for free. This gave me the ability to go to slams at the drop of a dime. When I first heard about the slam it was in 96' when Mouth Almight released the CD from the 94' slam in San Fran. I loved that CD and still own it today. The CD had all these poets with synonyms,flashy names like the Invisible Man,and others. At the time I was looking for the flash so I listened these people non stop. I never NEVER listened to the people with regular names, I mean how good could you be if your name was just Patricia Smith? Then one day I was washing the dishes and the cd just played. The poem was "Undertaker". It was the most amazing thing I'd ever heard. And it was by this lady name Patricia Smith. I will never forget how stupid I was. I felt like the biblical Paul who'd been blind, until the scales fell from his eyes. Just like that I got it. It's not about Flashy names, or assumed idenities, but the work. the words. the heart and soul. This is one the one thing I thought poetry had on hip-hoppers. We speak the truth, or at least we should. Michael Harper said "the job of the poet is to tell the truth" and that truth, the personal truth is what should drive us.
So now the next frame of thought is, how did so many poets collectively not learn that lesson? The answer? Poets like me.
Poets like me who love the slam, but eventually left for whatever reason. Because if Patricia had left before I got in, I never would have known. If Regie Gibson had moved on, how would I have learned? They passed that scaredness of the slam to me, and I have left it on the counter. I can not be mad at who ever picked it up. I should have seen it coming before I left. New poets coming into the slam who cared nothing about the tradition, couldn't tell you who Marc Smith was, didn't care about the shoulders upon which they stood. It upset me, but ultimately, what could I do? So I left, following other paths.
I look at the Slam now, like an old girl friend, one that you have a lot of love for, but everytime you see her, she looks worse that she did the time before. I want to hold her, help her, talk to her about our previous lives. But her eyes are hollow now, and when she looks at me there is no recognition in her face.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Juggle
This has been a busy week, and it doesn't stop. In the next couple weeks, I have to get my stuff together so I can make this mini-tour happen. I need to make the dollars! Barbara and I have been working non-stop on the Griot dates. Our game plan is to make school dates at Theatre Jax. Right now Nov. 22nd and 23rd. Bus kids in and have a good show. Hopefully, we'll make good money for those two dates. Then we're trying to work it out with the Ritz. I'd like to do the nighttime performances, we won't make a lot of money there, but honestly, I could careless. I'd just like to see the play on that stage.
Sept. is already starting to book up solidly. I'll be in the B-more area working for a bit, and also taking part of the Single File Solo performance festival in Chicago. That will be interesting. There is so much going on I have to figure out a way to maximize all of it. When I look at how many projects I have working, it's scary that I can easily loose sight of the days, and allow dates to sneak up on me.
Money seems like it's going to even out in the next month or so. That will be a relief as I'm sure everyone in the house is sick of eating P&J sandwiches for dinner. Today I took $100 of my rent money and fulled the refigerator. I'll be a little late on the rent because of it, but at this point I don't care. We have to eat.
On the creative front. I have a new idea for a screenplay. I actually started off writing scripts as screenplays before I figured out that the stage was where I wanted to work for. But recently, as more of an exercise then anything else, I made Essential Personnel into a screenplay. I love the way I don't have to adhere to the limitations of the stage, it's wide open and there are so many ways you can play with it. The cost of that, is the fact that most of the screenplays that are written will never get produced. This is a problem for me. I'm use to writing a play, and putting it up, and honing it. Not with film, too much is needed from too many people to think that creating film will happen as easy as a play.
Living in Florida has a way of making me feel disconnected from the rest of the artistic world. Especially the work I do. There isn't a foundation for it anywhere. If I was a tradition playwright, finding a group to commiserate with would be easy. I'm not slamming anymore, so talking to slam poets and trying to build with them would be silly because they aren't so much interested in building as they are winning the next slam. On one side of the equation, I have the best reel of any poet in the nation, three plays being produced this year, and a lot of drive, but ultimately because I'm here in no man's land, no one really knows. Therefore I get passed over for a lot of stuff that could help me. On the flip side if I was in NY I'm sure I wouldn't have as many products as I do. I know because most of my friends in NY are equally as talented, and driven. The difference, they have to worry about living where for me, I can live like a pleblian, and still do my work, and not kill myself. Still it's frustrating.
Sept. is already starting to book up solidly. I'll be in the B-more area working for a bit, and also taking part of the Single File Solo performance festival in Chicago. That will be interesting. There is so much going on I have to figure out a way to maximize all of it. When I look at how many projects I have working, it's scary that I can easily loose sight of the days, and allow dates to sneak up on me.
Money seems like it's going to even out in the next month or so. That will be a relief as I'm sure everyone in the house is sick of eating P&J sandwiches for dinner. Today I took $100 of my rent money and fulled the refigerator. I'll be a little late on the rent because of it, but at this point I don't care. We have to eat.
On the creative front. I have a new idea for a screenplay. I actually started off writing scripts as screenplays before I figured out that the stage was where I wanted to work for. But recently, as more of an exercise then anything else, I made Essential Personnel into a screenplay. I love the way I don't have to adhere to the limitations of the stage, it's wide open and there are so many ways you can play with it. The cost of that, is the fact that most of the screenplays that are written will never get produced. This is a problem for me. I'm use to writing a play, and putting it up, and honing it. Not with film, too much is needed from too many people to think that creating film will happen as easy as a play.
Living in Florida has a way of making me feel disconnected from the rest of the artistic world. Especially the work I do. There isn't a foundation for it anywhere. If I was a tradition playwright, finding a group to commiserate with would be easy. I'm not slamming anymore, so talking to slam poets and trying to build with them would be silly because they aren't so much interested in building as they are winning the next slam. On one side of the equation, I have the best reel of any poet in the nation, three plays being produced this year, and a lot of drive, but ultimately because I'm here in no man's land, no one really knows. Therefore I get passed over for a lot of stuff that could help me. On the flip side if I was in NY I'm sure I wouldn't have as many products as I do. I know because most of my friends in NY are equally as talented, and driven. The difference, they have to worry about living where for me, I can live like a pleblian, and still do my work, and not kill myself. Still it's frustrating.
Friday, July 30, 2004
A Begining
I want to write this blog so I can look back on this crazy time in my life, and in the future understand it. Even looking at this first line makes me think that there is always more under surface than appears. When has my life not been crazy? That’s not a bad thing. I wouldn’t trade the choices and forks in the road I’ve chosen for something else. It is what it is, and here is where I stand, some regrets, but mostly intact.
At this point in my life I am a professional artist. It's hard to categorize what I do. Primarily, I am a spoke word artist, that's where I got my start like so many others, reading poems in a coffee shop. I've always been more ambitious than that so I started looking for any place that had a mic outside of Jacksonville. Luckly for me I stumbled into the slam scene and made a name for myself. I'm proud of my accomplishments in the field. Since that time I've stopped slamming, although, I day dream about returning. There is something intoxicating about performing, and the competition of the poetry slam that calls out to me. Since then I have tried to take the artform into different areas. The first has been my collaboration with a filmmaker name Dan. We have filmed two of my poems and turned them into movie shorts. This collabo, really got me thinking about how to expand the work. After the first movie was completed, I started working on a one man show, Essential Personnel, that has since traveled to many different theatres and recieved great reviews all over. One of the Theatres that brought the show in The Theatre Project, commissioned me to write a new piece for them. I also was commissioned by the Baltimore School of the Arts to write a play for their senior ensemble.
I think one day I'll look back at these commissions as the catalyst to launching my career. The work that was created has a buzz that I think will help propel me into bigger things. The first commission was "Griot: He Who Speaks the Sweet Word" Griot is a collaboration with two other poet/playwrights, Larry and David. They are great guys at the begining of their careers. Each brought something else to the project. For the most part I wrote the play. Larry and David gave great creative input along with a good friend Holly and my long time director Barbara. My music man, the incredible Zane 3 created a beautiful sound track that moves the play forward. "Griot" Deals with the tradition of storytelling in it's many incarnations from poetry to songs, to drama. The play has gone over like gangbusters.
The second commission is entitle "Chalk". "Chalk" is what I call a Poetical. A Poetical works just like a musical, but instead of the characters breaking out into song, the characters perform slam poetry. The BSA commision went really well. The new genre I'd created worked. (Ok so really I didn't create it, maybe I just named it, but reguardless, it worked) Since then, the Ophelia Project and picked it up and will be using it, as a teaching tool. We are talking about creating a "Chalk Day where schools all across the country will perform the play on the same day, and we use this to talk about the central issue in the play Relational Aggression. The play in it's roughest form is about girl aggression and how girls can be nasty with each other, and how it effects their future.
So all three plays are working for me right now, and I am always looking to work the poetry circuit. But I look back on it all, and honestly, I don't have much to show for it right now. For the last two years, I've been living gig to gig, which is worse then paycheck to paycheck, because gigs can be months apart. My family, and I will not talk about the specifics of my family on this blog, but I do have a family and several children. My family suffers the most.
Sometimes I want to stop writing and performing altogether and just work a regular job somewhere, but i've tried, and I can't cut the mustard anymore. I feel like I'm dieing working for someone else. Meanwhile, I'm not making enough money on my own to support my family and that weights heavily on me. So I guess this is what this blog is all about. Hopefully I'll obtain success, whatever that is, in the future and be able to look back at the road I took according to this Blog. I plan to chronical the ups and downs of being an artist struggling to juggle the family life, and at the same time maintain a certain amount of dignity. So fasten your seatbelt, get comfortable, and feel free to write me and tell me to stop whining when needed.
At this point in my life I am a professional artist. It's hard to categorize what I do. Primarily, I am a spoke word artist, that's where I got my start like so many others, reading poems in a coffee shop. I've always been more ambitious than that so I started looking for any place that had a mic outside of Jacksonville. Luckly for me I stumbled into the slam scene and made a name for myself. I'm proud of my accomplishments in the field. Since that time I've stopped slamming, although, I day dream about returning. There is something intoxicating about performing, and the competition of the poetry slam that calls out to me. Since then I have tried to take the artform into different areas. The first has been my collaboration with a filmmaker name Dan. We have filmed two of my poems and turned them into movie shorts. This collabo, really got me thinking about how to expand the work. After the first movie was completed, I started working on a one man show, Essential Personnel, that has since traveled to many different theatres and recieved great reviews all over. One of the Theatres that brought the show in The Theatre Project, commissioned me to write a new piece for them. I also was commissioned by the Baltimore School of the Arts to write a play for their senior ensemble.
I think one day I'll look back at these commissions as the catalyst to launching my career. The work that was created has a buzz that I think will help propel me into bigger things. The first commission was "Griot: He Who Speaks the Sweet Word" Griot is a collaboration with two other poet/playwrights, Larry and David. They are great guys at the begining of their careers. Each brought something else to the project. For the most part I wrote the play. Larry and David gave great creative input along with a good friend Holly and my long time director Barbara. My music man, the incredible Zane 3 created a beautiful sound track that moves the play forward. "Griot" Deals with the tradition of storytelling in it's many incarnations from poetry to songs, to drama. The play has gone over like gangbusters.
The second commission is entitle "Chalk". "Chalk" is what I call a Poetical. A Poetical works just like a musical, but instead of the characters breaking out into song, the characters perform slam poetry. The BSA commision went really well. The new genre I'd created worked. (Ok so really I didn't create it, maybe I just named it, but reguardless, it worked) Since then, the Ophelia Project and picked it up and will be using it, as a teaching tool. We are talking about creating a "Chalk Day where schools all across the country will perform the play on the same day, and we use this to talk about the central issue in the play Relational Aggression. The play in it's roughest form is about girl aggression and how girls can be nasty with each other, and how it effects their future.
So all three plays are working for me right now, and I am always looking to work the poetry circuit. But I look back on it all, and honestly, I don't have much to show for it right now. For the last two years, I've been living gig to gig, which is worse then paycheck to paycheck, because gigs can be months apart. My family, and I will not talk about the specifics of my family on this blog, but I do have a family and several children. My family suffers the most.
Sometimes I want to stop writing and performing altogether and just work a regular job somewhere, but i've tried, and I can't cut the mustard anymore. I feel like I'm dieing working for someone else. Meanwhile, I'm not making enough money on my own to support my family and that weights heavily on me. So I guess this is what this blog is all about. Hopefully I'll obtain success, whatever that is, in the future and be able to look back at the road I took according to this Blog. I plan to chronical the ups and downs of being an artist struggling to juggle the family life, and at the same time maintain a certain amount of dignity. So fasten your seatbelt, get comfortable, and feel free to write me and tell me to stop whining when needed.
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