No Black People
Topic: WC - Daily Practice
Sunday 5:57pm 15Oct06

The 1980's were my militant years. My X decade. Some people may remember that I held on to it softly by ending my emails as Shelley X in the 1990's.

I moved to Toronto on October 22, 1982. The first thing I enjoyed about Toronto was the Buffalo radio station WBLK. To listen to black music every single day all day did something to me. It made me mad for not having that right my whole life.

I found Third World bookstore on Bathurst Street North of Bloor. The first time I was in the store, of which I stayed for 4 hours, I had several conversations with Mr. Johnson. He told me that once he'd retired from working on the trains all his life that he discovered that his wife didn't like him. ha ha. So he worked/ran the bookstore to keep out from under her feet driving her insane. I bought books. I bought Alice Walker's books of poetry. I bought Toni Morrison's books. Maya Angelou. Richard Wright. James Baldwin, Ntozake Shange. I bought Roots, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Malcolm X Speaks, By Any Means Necessary, The Last Year of Malcolm X - The Evolution of a Revolutionary, I Write What I Like (Steve Biko) and much more.

I loved reading all those books. Mr Johnson was a black God for giving me the place to go to buy all those books and hang out for hours discussing writers. And I was even madder for being deprived of all this wonderful writing that reflected my skin color my whole life.

I was mad for being fed bullshit from society as a whole (more North American society) that in subtle ways and harsh ways told black people that we were dumb, slow, too ugly to be represented, criminals. Through out the 1980's I didn't go to any movies that didn't have black people in them. I refused to pay for any movies that had a white person rescuing black people. Eventually I stopped putting any products in my hair to straighten it. I shaved my hair off and wore it close to bald for many years then in dreads for several years and now I wear an afro.

My poor mother wondered aloud quite often, "What did they do to you in Toronto?" I'd changed so much.

It was overwhelming to read black history and black writers. Especially poetry. Poetry that I could relate to. So the pendulum swung. I went from no knowledge to over saturation of knowledge. From accepting but not loving my blackness to hating any thing that seemed like it was denigrating black people or ignoring black people to loving my blackness. A few years ago my best friend in Montreal said that he was scared to read any black history books because when his younger brother did his brother turned so angry and militant. I told him the same thing happened to me. "It's the shock of realizing, I come from beautiful people."

I come from beautiful people.

It took me at least ten years to become normal again. I didn't have too many white friends. I wouldn't tolerate any stupid talk from white people about black people. In my militant days I would have hurt someone for calling me Buckwheat. Now I just say, only white people think that's funny. And move on. I'm calmer now. I know that no matter what the world may say about black people or how the world may portray and betray black people that I come from beautiful people. Despite the people that still insist on ugly-fying (I like making up new words) our race.

I no longer need to embrace my race with anger and a black power fist but if pushed against the wall I will pull that black power fist out of the vault and knock yo lights out. If I need to...

EY

I Remember
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: Itunes on Shuffle
Topic: Writing Challenges
4:36pm Sunday 15Oct06

Well I've been attempting to do some work with music playing and have been doing more singing than working. Funny how that happens. Somehow it makes me think about the warm up mentioned in The Weekend Novelist by Robert J Ray. The warm up is to write for ten minutes using the start line, "I remember..."

In keeping with music... I remember listening to Elvis Presley on 78's. My favorite song was Teddy Bear. I'd play it over and over keeping myself amused in my bedroom. The 78's were the only records I could touch as we (society) had moved into LP's and my mother didn't want me to ruin those. She didn't really have to worry though. I was already aware of the delicateness of albums and worshipped music too much to ruin an album as an experiment like maybe cutting my Barbie dolls hair (which I regretted.)

One of my last memories of still living with my father was me in my bedroom listening to Sly and The Family Stone on LP with my brother Charles' old record player. I loved Sly and The Family Stone, aside from their music being fantastic, primarily because they had the words to their songs on the album inserts. I still can't understand why a singer doesn't give the lyrics to their songs. In my room I sang Family Affair and Hot Fun in the Summertime and Stand. My father peeked in at me and smiled watching me enjoy myself in my own performance for my imaginary audience.

I remember the calm nights after the violence sitting in the living room with my mother while she played Stevie Wonder's album with Blame it on the Rain, Looking for another Pure Love and I believe (when I Fall in love it will be forever). That was Talking Book with Stevie in braided hair. My favorite song for the longest time was Big Brother because I understood it and knew that it was deeper than my young thoughts could fathom.
Lyrics - My name is secluded. We live in a house the size of a matchbox, roaches live with us wall to wall. You've killed all our leaders, I don't even have to do nothing to you. You'll cause your own country to fall...
More recently Tuesday Heartbreak is my favorite off that album. My mother played that album so much that it skipped on You are the Sunshine of My Life. We just sang the song with the skip.

I remember her playing Sam Cooke's Album with Only Sixteen and Chain Gang and Everybody loves to cha cha cha. My favorite song then and now is Bring it on home. I loved that deep voice that sang the harmonies to Sam Cooke's silky smooth voice. It wasn't until I was an adult that I found out that it was Lou Rawls singing the harmony and it made me love that song more.

I remember that as early as five years old my mother liked my singing voice. If a song I liked came on the radio I was expected to sing it. One Less Bell to Answer from the Fifth Dimension was one of them and You Make Me Feel Brand New by the Stylistics.

I don't remember when I got fanatical about knowing everything about the music my mother owned but I do remember when it started making a difference. When my mom and I went music shopping I would pick up an album and turn it around and read the album cover until I recognized a name. If the songs were written by someone who wrote songs on someone else's albums, people who produced albums. They weren't playing a lot of black music on the radio. You had to be a music detective in order to discover new good artists. I could hand an album to my mother and say, "Buy this." And she would without question.

I knew that Luther Vandross sang on Quincy Jones' album Sounds and Stuff Like That. That his was the same voice on Change's Searching and was prepared when he went solo. I knew the voice as we called him in LTD was Jeffrey Osborne. I took the chance without fear and bought Jonathan Butler's first album (a double album) because he was produced by the same man that produced or worked with George Benson, Al Jarreau and Freddie Jackson. My ex Jeff still talks about that purchase in hushed awed tones. ha ha!

EY

Take Two
Topic: WC - Daily Practice
2:30pm Sunday 15oct06

Had a nice lengthy witty post that was somehow deleted by Zelda when she stomped with little kitten feet on my lap top. I can't remember Saki being a misbehaving writer cat. But Zelda isn't Saki.

I don't have the heart to discuss what I said in the lost post. It probably wasn't that witty anyhow.

Wednesday is the first night of IFOA! Where did the time go since purchasing my tickets and the beginning?

I'm really not feeling this post. Sigh! Ricken Racken Schnicken Schnaken!

EY

Can this be better?
Now Playing: Beautiful - Christina Aguilera
Topic: The Zelda Diaries
Wednesday 6:41am 11Oct06

Miss Zelda came to join me in the bed in the middle of the night. She gave me a sweet smile when I woke up 20 minutes into the alarm going off. She waited for me to come to and then pounced. Jumped my hands, jumped my feet, had me screaming with laughter. Brought the two big cats over to investigate what was going on. They sat back and watched with awe.

She brought the stretch cat out of retirement. When I still had Saki my black cat, Saki and Quincy used to lie on the floor while I was doing my morning stretches and when I'd come back down to the floor they'd be underneath me like cushions. I'd say, "Whose da stretch cats?"

Whenever I lifted my leg to do my leg stretches Zelda would bite my bum through my shorts. It took me a half hour to do my stretches between Zelda's attacks and Quincy's cushioning. Much laughter was enjoyed.

She really reminds me of the days when I still had Saki and our ritual play sessions. Although Zelda is eating in the kitchen now I still keep her food separate from the big cats as they get insulted when she stands beside them to eat. She eats like a pig, she's so famished from all her crazy antics and she cries when she's eating. Of course I moan when I'm enjoying my food so that may well be what she's doing. The big cats are less finicky about their food for fear that the little bear will eat it.

When she's finished eating she comes over to me to rub against me as if she's thanking the cook. One must always thank the cook!

Currently it's cat nap time. Picasso (Skinny bear) is up on the dresser facing the wall (like she's being punished) snoozing. Quincy (Cue bear) is up on the window sill stretched out with her front big fat feet under her chin. And Zelda (Delda bear) is on the top of the chair bum hanging off the edge. And bean bear, that's me, we're a family of bears, I prepare for work to go make more cat food.

wheeeeeeeeee!

EY

The Law of Recognition
Topic: Inspiration
It's on my other blog... a continuation of this morning's post about being depressed regarding my health.

The Law of Recognition on EY Page

EY