Bill Cosby, Eric Garner and how media controls our reality.

I've been thinking about media and how they control our knowledge. It may be the sole cause of many of the problems this country faces.  American culture is one that is deeply engrained with racism, misogyny and an abundance of prejudice. There seems to also be engrained a denial of racism and an abundance of subconscious prejudice.  There is the belief that one who is without prejudice is "color blind".  However, to be class, color or gender blind in this society simply means that you ignore rooted economic, gender and racial bias. In order to consider individuals equally you must factor in the inequalities each must have to face. Those who attempt to be "color-blind" are in fact the most biased. Many of these inequalities are rarely talked about or discussed making it nearly impossible for individuals to truly be considered equally.  

For the longest time all news from natural disasters to gossip about celebrity and political personalities had to come from a mainstream media source to be considered credible.  Even ideas of what we cohesively consider to be "American" are, to a certain extent, dictated to us thru media.  The idea of the all-american character would not exist except for its portrayal in ads, film and television.   Historically, american media is extremely biased. Until the past few decades or so most television, movies, news and radio were controlled by a rather homogenous group of companies that rarely gave truthful or complete representations of other groups of people. Because of this, those who are not a part of a racial or economic minority have a completely skewed perception of cultural realities in this country. How could they not?

Things have begun to change. Everyone now has the ability to document the world around them and distribute that information to the world thru social networks.  We now have the ability to contribute to the news we share more than ever.  By giving the power to report to all, we have the opportunity to see reality from the perspective of those who have been under-represented. For example, attractive women are by no means a tiny cross-section of New York's population however, as a man, it came as a complete shock to me the extent of harassment one gets on a daily basis from c cat-callers and lascivious men as an attractive woman walking down the streets of NYC.  Where was this expose researched and aired... YouTube.  From Misadventures of an Awkward Black Girl to If  Asians said Stuff White People Say, ordinary people are showing reality from their perspective broadening our knowledge of who Americans are.

Recently however, a very peculiar thing took place. Low income African Americans took control of media.  They filmed and circulated examples of prejudice in America's police forces. They documented events that were examples of an almost constant stream of discriminatory and abusive practices that may not be practiced by every officer but most certainly are practiced by officers in every city that has ethnic or economic minorities.  It's so pervasive that nearly every black man has fallen victim to it multiple times.  Nonetheless, these cases are rarely given national attention.  The last case to be so popularly documented was Emmett Till, thanks to indy publications Ebony/Jet magazines. Not only were these latest events filmed and circulated but attention was once again directed to the "resolution" so that the world could see before them an example of how the judicial system allows, if not perpetuates, these unjust practices.  

This corruption goes beyond race.  It covers all the bias that is inherent in our culture. I have personally witnessed the unequal treatment of men and women and sexual-orientation discrimination by police, a completely biased level of respect given to the poor versus wealthy (or wealthy appearing) in court, and government officials ignorance of disabilities and handicaps.  There was a case in chicago of a deaf man being shot by a police officer for continuously signing that he was deaf and not getting on the ground when he was told to do so.  It was so clear that it was a deaf man signing but the officer thought he was on drugs because his speech was slurred and he kept making "crazy" hand gestures. This is just one example of the dehumanization of people who are considered less than: the poor, old, handicap, criminals (or suspected criminals), minorities, even artists and activist. Just following the Michael brown incident graffiti artist D Demz was ran down by cops in the line of duty. According to many, the officers version of what took place is nearly impossible to have actually taken place but charges were not filed and the murder was considered justified. 

On a side note- if a criminal who shows no remorse is considered a threat to society, shouldn't the same be true for a law officer who kills someone, justified or not

As I stated before, the problems with the police and judicial systems go way beyond race.  However, the racial bias against African Americans is so subconsciously engrained in every part of american culture and non-minorities are so unaware of it,  that it's no wonder that it is the focus of protests.   For hundreds of years African Americans were stripped of any since of self worth.  Their history was taken away; their language, religions, families were separated.  They were banned from being educated or educating themselves.  Often people were mated like livestock their children being sold off like cattle to the highest bidder.  White people were conditioned to believe that blacks were not  human that they were animals, property.  Whites were conditioned to believe that African Americans had no right to anything including the products of their labors, their ideas, inventions even their actual bodies were property of the slavemasters to be used as he pleased. Poor whites were employed to carry out the most cruel positions as overseers and bounty hunters for run away slaves.  They carried out beatings, pried babies away from their mothers breast.  Our courts and  law enforcement  were set up to give no credibility to the poor or uneducated who might be witness to unjust  practices.  Wealthy could believe they were good to their slaves.  The whole concept of a grand jury allows the courts to stop a case from going to trial when the defendant commits a crime the court would like to overlook.  African Americans were convinced to believe in a god that promised them a better life in the here after if they would just have faith that all the atrocities committed against them were gods will.  They were conditioned to believe that anything could be taken away from them by any white person and that everything they were allowed was a gift from their master.  The Emancipation Proclamation did nothing to institutionalized racism and we continued to create systems with these same inherent beliefs:  A lucrative  prison system privately ran that allows wealthy to make money off targeting minority youth, incarcerating them in prisons that do not rehabilitate but instead condition single offenders into becoming permanent members of a prison culture that is almost impossible to escape once one has assimilated to it; a culture that feeds off the undereducated,  underemployed, and minorities who once in-prisoned have few options for survival except to engage in activities that would result in longer prison sentences; An education  system where even in public schools the wealthy are given a huge advantage so that the poor remain undereducated making them prime targets for the prison/slave trade; A welfare program that punishes those who work and a minimum wage that makes the transition from being program dependent to self-sufficient nearly impossible.  

Beyond institutionalized racism, Americans also suffer from socialized cultural prejudice against African Americans.  It is engrained in white American culture to fear the black man and lust after the black woman.  He is the thief and the mad man she is the mother and the vixen (perhaps Freud and the greeks were right and every man wants to kill his father and sleep with his mother).  Many blacks who find their much suppressed sense of self worth fall prey to white socialization.  They think of themselves as exceptions. Many Americans, white and black, look at problems in the black communities and don't see that they are problems caused by generations of corrupt practices by America that it will take a fundamental restructuring of beliefs of everyone to overcome.  Instead they use terms like black-on-black crime to blame it merely on our blackness.  The main problem is that many Americans  have no clue what "blackness" is.  Many don't  understand the term African American.  They don't grasp that we are the only group of people besides orphans who  don't know and often have no way of finding out what country their ancestors are from (except for the few who's owners happend to keep excellent track of their sales receipts.)  They don't understand a people that were taken from their countries.  They don't understand a race of people who without a country claimed the whole continent but despite this grand cultural reclaiming also realize that their African heritage has been forever transformed by their American experiences.  I believe that the slogan Black Lives Matter is a much greater phrase than just saying we don't deserve to be killed by cops.  I think it is a breaking free from a mental state of bondage America has been in in regards to its people of color.  It is time to realize black peoples significance and potential.  The only way blacks can do this is by finding and creating self-worth.  We can no longer complain about lack of opportunities or recognition from other people.  We must create  our own opportunities and recognize our own excellence. Most importantly we must tell our stories of what it is to be an American when you are of African decent.  We must stop supporting the proliferation of  stories about us told from a skewed perspective that perpetuate a limited perception of blackness.  We must speak up when such stories are told.   Innercity Blacks have dealt with so much unjustified killings from cops, from gangs, from drugs that we've become numb.  I believe when these recent stories that we've heard time and time again were found shocking to white Americans it was a bit of a wake up call and a final realization that Black Lives Do Matter.

I hope it doesn't deter from what I've just written but I find peculiar that while this grand reawakening of African Americans is taking place,  mainstream media decided that this was the perfect time to reveal accusations against a black role model whose perception  they have been controlling for decades.  The now not so recent allegations about Bill Cosby started not with women finally speaking up but with media releasing charges that were DECADES old. Charges that had deemed "unsubstantiated and fantastical," by Cosby's Attorney in the 60's making it almost impossible for other victims to come forward because no one would have believed or even listened to them.  I weep for the women who had to remain in silence and bear the weight of suspecting abuse being doubted for so many years.  If he is guilty I think it's sad that not only does he have these horrible deeds in his past but he lacks the moral fortitude to confess to his wrong doing.  While I do think these charges change my impression of Bill Cosby the man I think they have no impact on the the work of Bill Cosby.  If anything it makes him human.  Who knows perhaps he was so ambitious in hopes of making up for all the wrong he had done.  Sometimes Great people do bad things very bad things.  It makes him a criminal, it possibly means that he has some troubles that would cause him to act out in such a way but it does not stop him from being a cultural icon and one of the greatest comedians of all times. 

I applaud the reporters and witnesses that spoke up.  Everyone doesn't have the courage and strength it takes to speak up about the atrocities of the world or the hardships they've had to face.  As an artist I believe it is my duty to do so. I pray to find the courage to speak of all those things that weigh my heart heavy, to confess the things I am ashamed of, to speak up so that others can hear my story and know that they are not alone.  I hope police that are aware of corrupt officers among them speak up as well and we make the police worthy of the respect they deserve. 

Why we Protest a Cop Killing and Have Nothing to say When a 9yr Boy is Executed

On weds. August 20th Antonio Smith, 9, was fatally shot in the Greater Grand Crossing neighborhood of Chicago. Smith was shot multiple times in the chest in the 1200-block of East 71st Street. Following the murder of Michael Brown in Ferguson many ask, "Where are the protestors? Where are the out cries?" I cannot speak for exact knowledge. Most of my life I lived in a pretty good neighborhood in Chicago (just 10 blocks from the Smith shooting). We first need to realize that this is not as much a race issue as it is an economic one. This is about poor people being killed and no one caring. I believe something huge needs to be done about the violence and complete lack of value for life that perpetuates many low income communities. The whole discussion of black on black crime is ludicrous. 83% of all murders of white people are committed by other whites but you don't here anyone talking about white on white crime. This increased violence isn't happening in black communities across the board because it is not merely a black issue. The significant characteristics of the perpetrators of these offenses have nothing to do with race. They are the undereducated, underemployed, previously incarcerated, and often members of gangs. The term black on black crime allows a majority of people to think that it's "their" problem. "They" need to do something about it. The more this feeling perpetuates the less value speaking up has. Why speak up when no one is listening accept to say, "oh those poor people". This is just one of the huge differences between Brown and Smith's murders. Smith's murder is considered "our problem" and in some ways it was exactly that. These senseless crimes happen when members of our communities are lost. When they have lost a sense of their own value and therefore cannot conceive the value of another. They crave the power, cred and status they get from the streets because they don't realize they have greater potential. Because of its media attention, someone will most likely be charged for Smith's murder and convicted. The guilty person? Who knows? In the mean while men will be harassed and the community will be prodded to turn in someone so we can get this out of the headlines. Some of the hesitation to cooperate with cops comes from a corrupt system that just wants to pin a crime on someone. It's a fact that many times leads will not be investigated but fabricated. After all, the people who have been empowered with our protection are the same ones who are gunning us down in the street- and that's when riots start. Our communities have problems deep problems rooted in generations of cultural degradation. Yes, we need help. We are destroying ourselves but when those who are supposed to serve and protect so blatantly show what we know is true, they don't care, people cry out. Many of these "bad cops" have the same traits previously mentioned they crave power, cred and status they get from their badge. As much as we need to help those committing violent crimes find away to change their behaviors good cops need to stop standing behind their fellow officers who are not capable of serving and protecting. Every time I have had a negative experience with the law (it's been a few I'm black) I have been innocent and sometimes even the victim of a crime and there was one cop incapable of compassion or even listening and other cops that silently supported their partner when he was clearly in the wrong. I've even experienced these good officers apologizing (after the fact). Just look at the Keith Vidal case when one bad cop murdered an unarmed subdued teen beside several great officers- and the boy shot was white! The system isn't working and we are stuck in it. It's very easy to stand on the outside and see black people killing themselves. Society needs to take a deeper look and realize that society is neglecting a huge part of our community. We need to find a way for prison systems to rehabilitate criminals instead of forcing individuals (sometimes guilty, sometimes not) into a life were they find no legitimate way to get ahead and their best option for self preservation is crime. We need to find a way to restructure gang culture and yes I said restructure. At their core there is good in creating family and a sense of community. Black Panthers were considered a gang. No one gives them credit, but they were a huge positive impact on black communities. Most importantly if law enforcement wants any sort of respect we must find a way to help bad cops deal with their abuse of power or take that power away from them. I am one of those who believes all violent offenders are victims as well. They are victims of a system that must change.

Good Grief

If you are in New York you should see this play If you are a part of a theater company you should read this play and consider it for your next season. Producers here's a play... Good Grief: the story of a first generation Nigerian girl and her best friend. It touches everyone, each in their own way. For me, I've had many best friends Ernest Jones who was my constant running companion from birth to somewhere in our teens. Steve Leaver, Mark Witucke , Charlie Medders, Martin Robert Holland III Kevin Riordan Anna Weiler Menekseoglu Ronald Riqueros Berg and I guess I can throw in Kyle Larsen as well. Over the years our relationships have changed but when you have a best friend they shape so much of who you are. In what was probably my most formidable years that best friend was Roxanne Zeilstra (Gniadecki) When she passed 14 years ago it was the most tragic experience I had ever had. When someone like that passes a piece of you dies. All the secrets and experiences that only you two shared seem somehow lost. I couldn't face it. Instead of going to her funeral I went to New York to visit another friend. Editha Rosario-Moore. I spent a lot of time at INTAR, the theater where she was then performing and would later become the executive director of. For Fourteen years I've mourned her loss regretted not saying goodbye. In many ways I've had a hard time forming intimate relationships and it's something I think about almost every day . It's a grief like no other. Almost exactly fourteen years later one of the first ny people I became and remained friends with Ngozichukwuka Anyanwu sent me a play. Good Grief- a best friend play. it was being produced at INTAR. It was beautiful. It's a story of grief and love and moving on. I knew I had to be a part of it. I wasn't going to risk losing a role to another actor when the queen of NYC Black theater ChiChi Anyanwu who knows every actor of color is casting so I volunteered to do costumes. Then by a series of strange events I got a txt Saturday morning on my way to work in the hamptons, "could you cover one of the roles if needed?" Sure I said after all this was a worst case scenario. On Sunday I was told I was playing the part and we opened last night. Playing the role of papa I have learned to move. That grief, although an essential part of life, can be crippling if we allow it to stop us from moving forward. We may forever relive the pains and sorrows we experience in life because with them is also great joy, love, and happiness. But if we continue to move each time the pain gets easier and we become lighter. I dedicate my performance to Roxanne who taught me how to create my own happiness a skill I've gotten out of practice of. It's also to everyone who's been a best friend Eric Schnuelle Andy Albright Matthew Stinton Michael Malavarca Libya V Amy Fulgham Tanny Sven Lins Tyler W. FrenchFrank Pullen Mark Omi PeteWolf Winninger and I'll also include Henry Hertz who was a teacher friend mentor surrogate parent all around godsend Just like those I named before we've all shared some good times and some bad times but I am who I am because of the times we shared I miss all of you and dedicate this show to best friends thank you for being you although it's taken some time because of you I am a better me this play also helped me see that. It's BEAUTIFUL!!!

Dear Everybody, You Can't Steal My Culture!!

So everyone's read this article by Sierra Mannie“Dear White Gays: Stop Stealing Black Culture” I've been wanting to start writing again and after reading several posts on the subject I thought I'd add my two cents. I won't get into deciphering the whole article. It was an editorial written to a very specific market that ended up going viral. It was also someone's expression of their personal feelings of hurt and anger which it is not my desire to quantify or judge. I would think the main purpose in such an essay is simply to say, this is how you make me feel. No rebuttal can change that but one would hope some may sympathize, identify, or try to understand why our society causes people to have such emotions. That being said, I did identify with the offense taken when someone claims "blackness" When one who is neither woman or black says, "I'm a Strong Black Woman" they have a limited idea of what those words mean. These are strong black women: Maya Angelou, Grace Jones, Michelle Obama, Patti Label, India Arie, Angela Davis and some might even say Beyonce. They are strong black women because they are black and strong not because they have some quality that can be mimicked or recreated. My problem is the generalization of what it means to be black or woman (or more personally man). I also think it was a huge non-sequitur to make this about the transgendered community. This has NOTHING to do with being transgendered. There's a HUGE difference between claiming your gender and identifying with some aspect of a gender you are not. For instance if someone were to say, "I dance like Michael Jackson" I have a clear vision of what they mean. If someone says, "I dance like a black man" as a black person I find that offensive. Do you dance like Alvin Ailey, Gregory Hines, Savion Glover, or my brother who can't dance to save his life (sorry Antoine). Are those who don't dance like you somehow less "black"? Just writing this thinking about the completely different connotations one gets from "dance like a black man" and "dance like a black woman" may shed light on how gender plays into the conversation (on a side note Google Black dancer and see how the web stereotypes black dance) Being black goes beyond how I talk, dress, dance, look (especially black folk who don't fail the paper bag test) It is the culmination of all my experiences being black. True there are shared cultural experiences of any group of like people but those shared characteristics are merely common traits in the group and not defining. I am equally offended by the generalization of gender and sexuality. The idea that being gay is something you can see. That being gay has ANYTHING to do with how you walk, talk, dress, dance. How can you tell anyone is gay simply because they do not conform to gender roles that are archaic. I don't care how good your "gaydar" is there are men whose balance of masculinity/femininity do not correlate to their sexual attraction. There are also people (even men) who sexuality is not their most defining trait. I am especially hurt and offended when people talk about kids and their sexuality. It's horrible. How can a non sexual child be straight or homosexual? Sure he may have non-conforming traits but until he matures who knows he may also grow up to be transgendered, non gender conforming, an effeminate man or dare I say it might just be a phase. None of which has anything to do with sexuality or who you're attracted to. You would think gays would be supportive of this idea with the abundance of anti-feminism that perpetuates the community. (just visit any gay dating site and you'll see a plethora of the tags Masculine for Masculine and NoFems) So my summation... I am who I am as a result of my history and my life. Being black is something you can only claim if you are. Sure we can all identify with each others struggles but at the end of the day, you can't steal my culture because it's something beyond what you can fully comprehend. It's who I am.

If neither the smoker nor the non-smoker can both be completely free in the same train car, is not then the freedom simply euphemism for power?

-George Bernard Shaw

excerpt: THE REAL MCGONAGALL by Willie Holtzman

For to call him a poetaster, let alone a poet, is an insult to even the worst mediocrities posing as popular odists. McGonagall is not a bad poet; still less a good bad poet. He is not a poet at all, but a merciless hack and should be publicly flogged if ever again he breathes his name with even one member of the pantheon of this sacred calling. Until such time, this verbal flogging shall have to suffice." Who is this John Malcolm to judge me? A mere scribe for a second-rate, backwater newspaper trying desperately to make his name on self-contrived misery. A parasite whose opinions feed off others' creations. What has he ever created? When has he ever faced the terror of the blank page? My worst bit of verse is still better than his most wounding prose. And he has the audacity to call me a hack? This hackneyed self-appointed judge and jury. This Commenter. Opinionator. Critic! God help me. Is it possible he detected some flaw that had hitherto escaped my notice? Could there be some remote particle of truth to his assault on my art, nay, my very being? Is not the greatest artist as susceptible to vanity and self-delusion as the least? What else might prompt one writer to such depths of contempt over another writer's impulse to create, to enrich, perchance to entertain? Could it be that he is right? That I am not the poet I think I am?


No blade could strike as deep!

My burning desire to be a poet has wrecked my senses. I hallucinate. Where there are jackanapes I see adoring audiences. Where there are pranks I imagine patronage. Where there is mockery I hear praise. Where there is valueless topaz I conjure my poetic gems. Would you demand I acknowledge the derision? Very well - in the dark nights of the soul, I strip away the delusion and I know it all. I am the Patron Saint of Failed Artists, everywhere. I challenge you to scour my entire body of work in search of one elevated stanza, one excellent line, one elegant phrase, one redeeming word. You shall find...none. Not one. There is no public, no knighthood, no muse. Just vanity, and laughter. People laugh at me. To love something so deeply, and not be loved in return is in New York as in the world over, laughable.

But laugh at me only as you would laugh at yourself. For in the end is there nothing to be said for the primal human urge to create? To be more than our mere material selves? Would you blame a poor weaver who wishes to leave behind something more than flawed cloth?

And if that desire to do more, to yearn for some touch of divinity, should glow as a transforming light within, who can call it illusion? Who dare call me a hack who has not coarsely and cursedly extinguished that light within himself even as he cruelly announces that my fame is lies?
Who can deny, to a certainty, that it is not the Muse who whispers "Write!" Shakespeare, himself, writes of lunatics, lovers, and poets as if there is a difference. Draw near, romantics. In my heart of hearts, am I so different from you? This need to create, this divinely implanted most human seed - fear it not for the faultfinders. Sing it to life, celebrate it; whether it soars on winged words or crashes leadenly to earth. Praise genius, if you must, but do please, people, to all events, cherish imperfection, if you can. Because even the most imperfect poem is an act of love, of humanity. And, in the end, what more can we ask of ourselves than that we were human. That we were our true selves in full view of the World; that we revealed our soul. To be even a failed poet is to love fearlessly, foolishly, with an open heart to all. This, my friends, is the Real McGonagall!

Did I rhyme?

excerpt from Strange People by AWJ

A stupid observation about myself you know living the way that I have been for quite some time. I can look at a commercially attractive woman and I have absolutely no desire to do anything other than just look at their aesthetic purposes, to see you know those are interesting lines the curves of the body, whatever. But I have no desire. If she said, “come up to my apartment. Let’s get a hotel room or something.” No thanks. I mean I I just I I don’t. I just cannot imagine doing such a thing and I don’t feel like it. I don’t get those kind of dreams anymore. I dream about potato salad and , oh a wonderful Steak Diane. , things like that you know. , the smell of a brand new pair of shoes nobody else wore ever. , taking a shower all by myself. , things like that you know I but if I was going to be in a bed I wouldn’t want her in there. I’d want to be in a bed all by myself with a lock on the door. That’s great you know. I wouldn’t fall asleep with , you know, particularly if she’s a Russian cause you know they give you stuff in your drink. You’ll never see your Rolex again. Well, I just pissed off some Russians.

Ooh. I found a big Monte Crisco sandwich from Bennigan’s in perfect condition. Normally I wouldn’t order such a thing but one of those and you’re not hungry for about eleven hours. I mean that’s the sort of thing would be perfect with a big glass of ginger ale which I did not find with the sandwich, but it was very nice actually. I haven’t had one of those in years.

Once during the summer a bizarre thing happened I was looking in the trash near the m Lawrey’s Prime Rib. they’ve since removed the trash can there I used to refer to that trash can as my salad bar. Anyway so, I they I was looking in that trash can and in there was a completly unopened half gallon of Bryer’s Vanilla Ice-cream. And it was in the summer and it had just melted to the point where it was palatable with a plastic spoon just absolutely perfect I took it and I walked all the way across from the Drake hotel in the park and I ate it and ate it and ate it until no more would fit inside of me and I didn’t let go of the container until I had digested some of it whatever I had and then I drank the rest it was so wonderful to think that there are people who are able to abuse themselves like that everyday. , well that’s something to hope for.

flickr photos

I just started adding pics to Flickr photos more to come!

Old Article

Strange people in Utah

trying

trying to paint the picture
write the play tell the story
that everyone wants to hear
needs to hear

I've never written a thing in my life

I was merely the the medium

the Ouija

tell your story use me
oh spirits of knowledge
tell your tale that must be told
and let me write down the words

Happiness Review

Get Happy

Click for info on In Circles!!!

In circles

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Odyssey

foolish nightmares

strange are the roads we often tread

how wonderous and odd
when lifes possibilities are not
always bread
on this sometimes bitter road

A poem by Mark Wittucke

MEMORIES SWEETER THAN THE ORANGE IN YOUR MOUTH



Traced a thought, taut as a thread

the life of a two legged Terran

reveling in the senses past redemption.



Think you now

honestly

what moved you?



Eternal play of youth

then death



and the suffering in between

gurgled worries wept



battered by wrath, then stuffed

headfirst into the pit.



Days at play, the sunlit room

imagination unmanacled, cat’s

engagement after the flicker,

hands wrapped in bobo fur

animate green plastic.

Heroes before the fall.



Life moved by aging, elder then aged,

fearful throughout, moving farther from

your childhood room or the bush where

you hid or the goal to which you ran

thinking you had won.



How’d eternal moments slip into time and

dissolve, suckled into the sun?



How could that presence (alighted

fingers feeding dead frights) disappear

forever into darkness?



It is hard to be human

when the tide pulls out.



5XII2006

Poetic mumbo jumbo

Drowning in the sea of Fate
trying desperately to keep my head above waters
trying not to drown, but not so much as to relieve the struggle

I love the struggle:
The clawing, climbing, clamouring to survive

I see the future...

there will be many tears much sorrow more pain

but there will also be celebration, jubilation, ovations and endless love

I pray for endless love.

rebuttle to mumbo jumbo

Why do I do this?
my life could be so easy if I only allowed it to be.
why drown when i can swim or better yet float.
The waters not that deep but yet i refuse to stand and walk to shore.
Sure I love the struggle:
The clawing, climbing, clamouring to survive
but when is enough enough?

there are many futures i could keep fighting, keep struggling or i could give up. i could lose the fight and drown in my own misery or i could go to shore, buy a house and raise kids from Guatemala or Africa or Utah.

some child that has no future and show them that there might be
because I don't know if i can do it anymore

I've always wanted to change the world but some days i lose hope.

Not hope that there is a potential for change but hope that i possess some key that will unlock that potential. Somewhere along the way, i lost my way.

But I don't want to be lost anymore.

there will be many tears much sorrow more pain

but I pray for endless love? I have always had love and it has always ended. many times I've only discovered that love has entered my life upon its exit.

The only endless love is that for life and the choices i have made in it. Enough with the poetics.

i am a fool but i play the part well.

Stupid stuff....

Goodness gratious it's been a long time!


did a bunch of shows....

Ave. X which was awesome. technically it was just a showcase but was advertised as Off broadway and had an amazing cast. The company Dreamlight is new and who knows what the future holds for them but they got off to a great staert we sold out about a week after opening for the entire run.

After doing Ave X I swore to not do anymore shows that don't pay well that was until Liby Pugh called me aobut an amazing director i had to audition for Kate Marks. A week later we're both doing the Odyssey with Looking Glass theater. I wore stilts and a wig what more can you say.

My summer took quite a turn I came to milwaukee(yes I'm still here)for Gay Pride which was an awesome performance on stilts of course. i then taught for First Stage Theater Academy. while my over all experience was great it wasn't until I left that I realized all I need to learn as a teacher. I think I took out my on frustrations of imperfection on the kids and losty a lot of the joy that an acting class should have. During this time I also ened up meeting someone which is why I'm still here. Life is ridiculous. I can't wit to get back to NYC though. I'm slowly loosing my love of the midwest.

On the Edge!

I need to DO something

I've been standing in a big room

in front of a big window

looking at the big city,

and all of it's big dreams

and contemplating how difficult it would be to jump.

Jump!

Maybe not litterally but figuritavely. how hard is it to take off running to leap into transparent walls and break through to the other side.

how difficult could it be to soar above it all and fly if only for a fleeting moment.





Very difficult when everything you've ever learned tells you that all will end in a big crash, on the big pavement, with little else but stares

from all the little people

who sit in their little rooms

complaining of their little misfortunes

and their little pains

and do nothing.