Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Training for the Love Affair of a Lifetime

everything has suddenly sped up with the addition of Hip Hop for Change coming into my life, like real people who came out of the transistor radio dialed to KPOO 89.5, to my rescue, and i just realized THIS is the Love Affair of a Lifetime that i must've been training my body, mind, and spirit for.

i thought it would be one man that i'd take to the moons and back with my stamina, love, ferocity, and care. (i thought it was Wordy because he came up to me in the exact way an earlier voice told me would happen)/ but it is actually many men and many wildly unusual women. i was taken care of, saved, rescued and taught how to love and fuck hard and soft by hookers, sex workers, free thinkers, pariahs, unmarried spinsters, lesbians, artists, priestesses. / the kind of women they used to burn at the stake. 

this is a fast love letter. i will write more later. it's just that the internet is full of misery and hate and i must remember to set out bread crumbs for those of you who don't know it's already different out here. you're not alone. the voices don't mean you're insane.

the more i talk to and hear all the people Malik Diamond and Khafre Jay have exposed my heart to, the more i realize i'm silly for keeping these seemingly crazy wild secrets all to myself when we all need evidences and personal testimonies of the magic within and around us. the magic we are a part of, the magic we have a power to make.


i stopped hearing all the voices once i let go, danced in the sun while IGNORING everyone, and i became more integrated and feel skinless. 

i'm 48 and a few of the other kids of the baby boomers are horrified at how they blew it. they all had the world between their knees and they could've cracked all this bullshit like walnuts, but they wanted the houses and fur coats instead.

my biggest horror was seeing how much more docile each generation has gotten and i couldn't believe people stopped getting natural hard ons and would let their bodies melt in front of computer screens willingly.

all the worst sci-fi mind control stories have come true but it was so much easier than anyone ever thought it'd be to become a corporate state with docile "consumers" as a population so fucking fast.

but my life is about always always always trying to find a way out, of being truly free. so if everyone was looking down at screens and making everything up, then where was the musculature to ever ever ever fight back from all this death?

the lack of a positive answer anywhere... i have no words for how that made me feel inside.

art was irrelevant. we'd all been turned into pussies and whores. anyone who could actually do anything, was either driven mad, imprisoned, or dead.

when i first heard Khafre Jay and Malik Diamond (here's Malik's music), a couple of years ago on the best radio station i've ever heard in my LIFE, KPOO, i was defibrillated back to life. i wondered were they for real... how could they be for real? but i have a special talent for seeing strong alpha dogs, especially men, and after that initial electric shock, both of them have consistently stepped up with gorgeous audacity for their women, their people.

so i'm just checking in here on this fake life internet world to let those of you who're starting to get that this social media thing is just corporate crack keeping us apart from reading each others' eyes, bodies, hearts. all that good stuff. the best stuff.

we get suicidal when it seems there's no other alternative to living in ..this. when it's all rigged and there's no freedom to be seen.

i was starting to lose hope of any kind of humanity rebellion until ten people from Hip Hop for Change descended upon my body to save me from that airbnb guy who attacked me.

he's still there across the street and he used the system to harass the cops into giving ME a ticket! it's a bullshit ticket given without honor, so we will fight it. and while it appears "brian," the airbnb tech guy has won and kicked my ass even funnier and harder by ME getting the ticket while he gets away with attacking me, nah...

he has brought us closer. he has brought my people to me, here in front of my house.

the airbnb guy and that white cop who actually came by and had baby tantrums on us, he will have a future Sandra Bland. he's just dying to kill someone.

but these white guys have actually brought us together ever more. and i realize that the love affair i've been getting ready for all these years is finally here. and it's with many people.

this is the perfect kind of mass love affair to have for me. i never was into many people.

in fact, part of the reason i went "mad" and totally and finally quit trying to be an artist in this system, is that in the end, us girls are always expected to give at least a little head to show our appreciation for being allowed in the foyer of the Big House.

i thought i'd make it on my talent. my skills. no such thing. how good a "friend" are you? how easy going about giving up some pussy among friends?

everyone in Hollywood is a whore. everyone. it's part of any job description in the industry. even below-the-line people carrying power cords have shiny dried up semen spots on their ringer t-shirts.

not just women. even and especially chris rock. i can't even upper case his name. that was some serious Uncle Tom bullshit he pulled at the academy. making people laugh hard hard hard at Jada Pinkett Smith's boycott was not taking care of one's women. i was ashamed for him.

so it's nice to believe in something far superior to santa claus as i am loved fiercely by Malik and Khafre and all the loves they get to know/work with.

i was gonna keep all this secret, but if others are already writing openly about bringing down the system and trying to get your own mind back, i can't sit this out.

i've gotta tell all about the voices, the hookers, the secrets, the love. i'm tired of pretending that the "good, upright" people aren't actually the bloodthirsty ones come nightfall and daybreak.

it's upside down, y'all.

and JohnPaul, you've become like my son. it is your face i now see at the front of all this fight. you get it all and so fast.

i hate the word hope as it's passive and meaningless now after obama spooged all over his preacher, Jeremiah Wright.

but i feel like now i won't be wasted like Sandra Bland. i see her propped up dead mug shot face whenever the cops come now. which as you now see, is all the time. even when i'm dancing with earphones, alone on a sidewalk in the sun, bowing to god during the dry cycle at the laundromat.

i love you each and thank you for showing me i'm not crazy for having believed in this kind of love and knowledge and care for so many years.

and Gema... i just love your adorable little hairs under your arms. that is as radical as dancing in the sun now. you are fucking beautiful gorgeous and you're taking everything in and i hope to help you explode as a fierce woman. you're holding back until you're sure of your dance.

JohnPaul is starting to crack into his own thang, so you'll soon follow. this stuff is contagious. that's why it's so DANGEROUS.

and De'Andre, i don't know WHAT your eyes are picking up and learning but a whole lot's going on in your head. your eyes take in EVERYTHING. i don't wanna fuck up/i wanna be stand up when you're around. that's GOOD.

much much love and joy. fuck all that other bullshit stuff. this is what that stuff was supposed to be about.

so if you're suicidal and depressed by how shitty and hard everything's gotten, before you exit all this, dare to have a LIVING SUICIDE. try things out while you're human and in this body. try to be more embarrassed. scare yourself. you still can die later at your own hands, if you want. but try another way, your way, before you go out.

and you just might find that you accidentally are more alive in your living suicide than you ever were when you were passively "alive" as a fucking "consumer."

what've you to lose? dare to gush. be embarrassed. care too much. tell someone you're in mad love with them...

try. it's exhilarating to not care about the bullshit anymore. thumbs up, "likes," or permanent records. you will fly. you cannot crash when you fly with love. not really.



much love to
Malik Diamond
Khafre Jay
JohnPaul Williams, Jr
Gema Cantu
De'Andre Crenshaw
Joseph Penner
Maria (I don't know your last name, dear heart!)
Vandor "Whacko" Hill
Danny Dibble
Maddy Auble
Nilo Amiri

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Hip Hop for Change Came to My Rescue

i'm floating like when you got your first kiss from your first crazy mad crush. i can't focus on anything and i'm ... i've no words for this. this is what it must've felt like in the days when the Black Panthers were around to have your back when the cops and "normal people" won't dare.

So Malik Diamond and Khafre Jay at Hip Hop for Change sent some dancing angels over to dance with me, protect me in numbers. My neighbors and I are all in love with them. Everyone already wants to feed them if they come back to dance.

they are making leaders come alive over there at Hip Hop for Change.

i've never fallen in love with a mass of people. i just ADORE each of them. they are each naked hearts and beautiful and open.

JohnPaul Williams
Danny Dibble
Maddy Auble
Nilo Amiri
Vandor "Whacko" Hill
De'Andre Crenshaw
Gema Cantu

they're the kind of people you go, "oh yeah, this whole thing is worth fighting for, for them."

i love people again. i'm having another identity crisis about how cynical i've accidentally become even as i've been fighting to stay wide open. i'll have to write later. especially on how i use the "white people" words that are more about a concept, philosophy that we are all living under and inside.

i'm gonna enjoy ruminate and float in this glow of love i'm having for ALL of humanity.

Hip Hop for Change... i'll link to 'em later [i already did]. i've just gotta post something amazing to counter the poison before.

they are magic. romance. romance is real. i fucking knew it.

thank you thank you thank you Malik Diamond, Khafre Jay, and Mr Jerome at KPOO.

they are church. today was like church times a million. like a soul defibrillator. i needed that. i'm still reeling in the after glow of such a love tsunami! what a perfect way to get hit all at once. i'm still feeling like i'm in a front-loading washing machine, going round and round. the ground is all tilty. like when you fall in love with one person, times a BILLION.

love is some powerful stuff. / it's not for pussies, that's fo' sho.

Saturday, February 20, 2016

I got attacked by a techie airbnb guy across the street

on valentine's day i was dancing outside in the sun, outside my building, and i got attacked by the white kid staying in an airbnb building across the street at 1380 hampshire, where they'd already evicted the guys there. that's his car above. he told the cops his name is Brian.

so we're having a street dance party this upcoming Sunday 21 FEB at 26th/hampshire in the mission from 12-3pm.

show up or listen to Malik Diamond on KPOO because he's gonna talk aaaaaall about it on Sunday.

here's what happened...

my hand's loosened up from defending myself so i'll type the basics but forgive spelling/errors.

i started dancing outside in the sun and usually i do it alone with my earphones on. but girls of all ages would run up to me and ask me to teach 'em and since i was a kid in the bronx when breakdancing hit the scene, i remembered all the dancing in the streets--but there was always dancing wherever there were Puerto Ricans--anyhow, i decided to dance outside my apartment every sunday 1pm-2pm, and i'd put on KPOO with Malik Diamond and Khafre Jay's "Hip Hop for Change" show that'd be great for the kids, too.

sometimes they'd take a while to get courage to dance in the sun. sometimes you have to watch and fantasize for YEARS before you say fuck it /fuck EVERYONE and just dance in the sun for god. then you remember. you remember everything. where you come from, all that.

i told Malik and Khafre at KPOO what i was doing and Malik and they'd play all the best dance songs for that one hour on Sunday. we were working together quite by accident.

after a hiatus due to the rains and a heart breaking football season, i started back up this last sunday, valentine's day, after a few neighbors asked when i'd be back out.

so i went out at 1pm and put on the radio and turned it up loud.

i was dancing and then Malik was on about colonialism and invaders, and the Mexican guys on the corner are cheering his words and this white boy comes out, crosses the street to me, and gets up close and starts vaguely imitating me in awkward ways. i figure he's just dancing all awkwardly like a white person but then he starts making fun of Malik talking and shuts the radio off and says, 'turn that fucking shit off, BITCH." and he's INTO saying the word. his eyes are all excited and i'm creeped out.

he says, "I want this shit OFF!"

and i laugh and say, "who the fuck are YOU?"

and i look and see his door open in the airbnb house and i start CRACKING UP and saying "you don't even LIVE HERE! you're airbnb'ing it here!" it was too FUNNY considering what Malik was talking about with "invaders" and shit.

so then i just turn it back on and start dancing again but he PUNCHES me and turns it off and i'm screaming for my neighbors and he's mocking me like a kid brother imitating me and i'm thinking he's on drugs.

see, he's staying in the building where the landlord evicted the first wave tech guy who was middle aged and out of work ubering and once he started having problems making the rent, the landlord, Bob Olsen or something like that, he starting putting the other room on air bnb. he had a crack user in there once, and i saw the guy screaming out the window.

anyhow, so now it's fully airbnb'd out, although i have no idea if it's registered and all that. the guy is super creepy. there was drama between them and the neighbors before so they're shmucks from jump street.

anyhow, so there are a lot of people always rotating in and out of there and i'd never seen this kid before.

so he punches me and has NO boundaries like a regular person and i'm seriously freaked out because he keeps coming up CLOSE to my body and i can't back away.

the neighbors come out and while the guys are yelling in the street, he keeps messing with me but Claudia, who's in her fifties, comes out and places herself between him and ME! he's still reaching for me and i'm trying to tell her to leave but she's covering for me and it's beautiful as HELL because no one has anyone's back anymore. women, or the boy and his dog when they were trying to jump out of the fire awhile back.

anyhow, this kid starts getting in EVERYONE'S faces and even goes into a neighbor's HOUSE while we're trying to herd him away. we don't know whether he's on drugs because he's chewing gum wildly and he just acted like he had a right to TOUCH everyone. he didn't CARE.

five cop SUVs come and the kid is imperious and demanding. i later learn his name is "Brian." and he's from manhattan beach down south. cop said a rich kid who hasn't a clue.

even though i had all these witnesses, i was gently dissuaded from pressing charges, saying it'd be a lot of court dates and him saying i'd attacked him and i'd had that happen already in berkeley so i knew it was true. i got my ass kicked by a white guy, HE called the cops, and even though i was bloody, ripped up, and had a broken finger they said if i pressed charges, they'd have to take ME in, too.

she said he said he was there til the end of the month. i figured they had his info in case he did anything again. i'm not into cops but i wanted to do the RIGHT thing.

and this cop said i could press charges LATER. it was sunny, i didn't wanna spend all day in the mission cop place so i figured if i was injured later, after the adrenaline subsided and if any deep soreness came in, i WOULD reconsider and press charges.

i figured they had his I.D. info and felt safe enough to say i wouldn't press charges.

when i went back home i fell apart in sobs and was crying all evening and my hands got jammed and swollen as the night went on. so i went to see Claudia, who'd interceded, she was thoroughly freaked out about living NEXT to him for another two weeks with him knowing where we ALL live and he'd kept saying, "YOU'LL BE SORRY!"

we talked about it and i was determined to complete the process and press charges.

but i'd have to call out another cop car and start all over even though i had a CAD#.

i called at 7pm and the guy's lights were on all night. i'd check. but the cops didn't come until 1:30am and they went over to knock on the door, the lights went on upstairs, and then they shut off. our crazy kid, Brian, apparently already knew what i didn't: if he didn't answer the door, the cops would just have to go away.

which they did. they said i should've pressed charges earlier. i could call again when i know for sure he's there, but again he doesn't have to answer the door.

he could look out the window, see cop cars, and he's fine.

oh, and they never got his ID information. just the name he TOLD the cops. so we're all terrified he's going to slash our tires and leave. and we'll be screwed while the landlord just moves in new tenants every week or so.

i'm actually very afraid of him because when this old white guy yelled at him when he was hitting me, he said, "what're you doing hitting women? you don't hit WOMEN!" the Brian kid instantly defended himself by shooting back, "i'm NOT hitting women!" without a hint of ...anything. he meant it.

that's what was creepy. i WASN'T an actual "woman" to him. a white woman would be. he never DARED touched Claudia (she's white).

anyhow, the cops get called on me EVERY WEEKEND when i dance now, and i get them called on me even when i dance at Dolores Park in the sun, now, too. even on 24th street. the new st. francis people call the cops on me when i dance outside the laundromat in the sun, too.

and after hearing the details of the real Alex Nieto story about the dog, the burrito and the two gossiping gay guys playing it up to the cops for drama, i'm like YEAH THIS SHIT IS REAL.

it's open season on us ALL now because i'm getting harassed more than when i was younger. by rich people who wanna treat me like the maid. we ALL have those stories now even if we thought we were all bougied out.

i'm 48 and have grey hair. and this little white kid felt free to fucking turn off my radio and PUNCH me over and over for being uppity enough to have rap or talk of colonialism and invaders on while he's in his HOTEL room. that's why he complained.

so there's the basics.

i'm trying to start a weekly block party now.