let’s see…golden birthday went fabulously without a hitch and have been ig’nantly writing, creating, performing, and chasing down the sun only to be chased up by it again the next morning. the mixtape reading (poems inspired by music) at the asian american writers workshop was dope sharing the stage with ishle yi park, patrick rosal, bushra rehman and more. i did my poem based off of fleetwood mac’s “dreams” (www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEi7GPkxfsE) which i was playing at a certain point endlessly on repeat to get over ah hem, certain trifling human interactions — the poetry of the song is quite beautiful itself, i would have to say — (thanks ken, nina, the sinha beer guy and whoever picked up the ice cream for the entire house that night! yum, poetry and green tea ice cream…can’t beat that yes?)

also got to see my hero me’shell n’degeocello perform out in the park in bk, which was amazing. then headed out to d.c. for the code pink conscious threads, beats, and peace event (thank you alicia!), which was a fun, eclectic mix of green fashion, spoken word, and hip hop. got to build with some of the folks from iraq veterans against the war, which was dope to hear some people’s stories and what they’ve been doing to stop the war since returning from combat.

then been working my ass off on my screenplay and the joint for the composers collab event (we have shows tonight and tomorrow at 8 PM over at the flea, 41 white street, so if u into poetry and experimental music composition you most definitely need to check it out www.composerscollab.org/) on point — which has all been going excellently — got to see the incomparable lila downs (www.liladowns.com) perform in prospect park, which was literally one of the best shows i’ve ever seen in my life.

booty-shaking at soul summit, catching up with folks from chicago, beach days, days in bed, riding on the back of a scooter through the streets of brooklyn. late night convo’s and websurfing for old-school TLC videos that wonderful mish mash of heat, anger, confusion, dream, laughter, and thunderstorm that is the summertime. and lots of poetry within, beneath, underlying, above, exploding from, bursting, believing in it all.

did the ill video shoot for “black, white, whatever,” which is gonna be extra-hot, directed by jazzmen lee-johnson and produced by alli maxwell. hustling to get everything on point for the website re-launch and moving earth productions in general. i hosted asian hip hop summit at public assembly last sat. with heather park, jay legaspi, cynthia lin, warhol soup, misnomers, koba, magnetic north, and more which made me feel so thankful to be in such an incredibly talented and credible crew of APIA artists here in new york.

the run for the composers collaborative is going beautifully, we got two more nights, and then i head out to denver to perform for DNC-related events like the college democrats national convention, the new voice political roundtable with cornel west and hill harper, and the apiavote gala reception — so i’m mad amped for that…and rounding out the month back in nyc at bryant park for a reading sponsored by the asian american writers workshop with john yau and shanxing wang. ah, summertime

poetry life doesn’t get betta than this. or does it, ha?

trying to eat and sleep properly, and even moreso love properly myself and those around me. i guess this true work of the poet is never done.

grow the heart. this time, and one more again.

the other night at rehearsal i was thinking about how ritualistic, how archaic the whole action of applause is. we put hands together to appreciate. to drum up sound, because how else can we as humans let each other know how we feel? how can we let each other know?

blessings,
delirious poet kells

so today is my last day in my 20’s as i turn 30 tomorrow. which on pretty much every person’s standard around me is a big deal, a big year. my parents gave me a watch for my birthday, a gold and silver one. practical to match with anything you know. “for when you have to go to adult functions,” my father said to me. earlier this year, they told me some kind of varied mangled version of a quote from confucius that goes at 30 you become independent, at 40 you know yourself, and at 50 you know all of life. i asked my mom, “what happens at 60?” and she said, “i don’t know, maybe you die? you know they didn’t live that long back then.” yup, the tsai family has got jokes that didn’t even mean to be jokes, for days and days and days.

is this the time now that i’m supposed to change my age on my profile to 99 so that people will never know? what is it that i’m supposed to be or know or grow for having had 3 decades on this earth, approximately 10,950 days on this earth not including leap years (that math is too complicated for me, really, but you get the idea)? is it now that i’m a woman?

in high school, i gave the commencement speech and paraphrased zora neale hurston’s “their eyes were watching god,” by saying “a woman becomes a woman when her first dream dies.” (needless to say my teachers found it a bit morbid but they believed in the rest of the speech, so it was all systems go) — but the process of being a woman or of being anything i find more and more is about commitment and re-commitment again and again. our p.a. who was helping us with the video shoot last week in d.c. asked me when i first decided on poetry, but i found myself saying that it’s been a series of commitments and re-commitments again and again. like my friend who told me about the italian form of poetry that literally translates into “to take a commitment.”

on the chinese calendar, i’ve already been 30 for the last year, since we count the year in utero too. you know, how a lot of people have that, “man, i never thought i was going to live past 18.” or 20 or 21 or 24, or whatever. i never thought i had that until i was reflecting on my life over the last 10 years on sunday night. maybe something deep down in me thought i would never make it to the age of 30, because of my different life experiences, because of my struggles with depression, because of so many times that had seemed hopeless or confusing or broken. but now, i find myself on the other side of freedom, that i have survived so many times through things that have forced me to choose, to re-define, re-locate, re-assess, re-determine over and over and over again. the constant process of growing and choosing and becoming more than you ever thought was possible.

it’s true.

i had an overwhelming sense of relief. i’ve made it. and i’m exactly where i want to be. doing exactly what i want to do. and i have been saved over and over again in my life from psychological and physical peril, from the collapse of the twin towers to the angels that have protected me walking the streets of cities around the world at night to friends who have reached out to me even when i didn’t want their support or protection. to poetry. i am so immensely humbled by the act of living. and having reached this benchmark — i realize that i can beautifully survive and re-work this entire demo. the blueprint is in my hands now. i am the architect now. anything that i thought i couldn’t do previously is what is impossible.

so i’m about to go get tatted up now and enjoy my muthafuckin’ birthday, but thank you for reading, listening, supporting, encouraging, envisioning what i could not see, blocking me, challenging me, working to destroy me, and more than anything thank you for loving me. this world. i can. i will. i understand. the infinite beauty of my survival, my life, and what’s to come.

blessings and take care,
kells signing off from her 20’s happy and proud

while wearing a hoochie blue and white striped mini-dress
silver hoops, crazy silver tim sneakers (the laces are silver chains, what?),
and eating an apple-y muffin

so lots been happening, but if i were to work it in reverse — been working on lots of cool projects from straight-up new spoken word pieces (my chapbook of love poems will be out by the end of the summer, an unexpected by-product of everything else i’ve been working on), some songs and lyrics for a couple of music projects (funny how creativity comes anyway it wants to), working on the screenplay (flawed characters are more fun in art than life, ha!) dreaming on the solo show - letting all the pieces settle like snow in july, gonna be shooting two fabulous election-flavored spoken word videos, and everything from hawaii to the netherlands to japan and virtual reality on the tour schedule for the next year or so, so feelin’ extra blessed and inspired…

been doin’ allll of that good new york/brooklyn shit for the last month and a half or so — checked out the video music box celebration at summerstage with nice ‘n smooth, naughty by nature, special ed, retro kids and more, the day before that was junot diaz who broke that shit down — he is the master, i swear, to impact international literature and keep it real, be who he is, what he represents, where he comes from, RELEVANT without pandering, without compromising, on just straight talent and hard work, no translation necessary — now that’s the future, i’m hoping for and he’s mad cool…his wiki is here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Junot_D%C3%ADaz

last week, got to kick it with the fam at the hip hop theater festival d.c. (i had a little travel snafu, but it all worked out in the end, ha!) steve connell and sekou tha’ misfit were absolutely gorgeous in “the word begins,” bringing today’s spoken word to that shakespearean level, where verse communicates experience from one human to another with urgency and importance, also the youth of dc writerscorps, b-boy morganics from australia, the wild and brilliant nicole klaymoon, and multidisciplinary wunderkind baba israel. and then an 8 HOUR CAR RIDE (ai-yuh! um, did i mention i only drive like twice a year?) back to bk thankfully with the on-some-next-level-shit hip hop social entrepreneur rolando brown, peep what he’s doing here: www.rolandobrown.com — much love to clyde, kamilah, daphne, chinaka, bamuthi, mateo, khalil, regie, hodari, weusi, rha, joanie, james for making hhtf and brave new voices come to life!

been growing moving earth productions with my right and left hand ladies: alli maxwell and jill aguado, and two more powerful sisters to the voltron: amissa miller and doreen kramer. so in a word: unstoppable. lots of july 4th craziness, an AMAZING time at the kundiman asian american poets retreat (group 1 and luv you joseph and sarah!) with bei dao, tan lin, and aimee nezhukumatathil — the tension and confluence between their diversity of styles and approaches have def helped me to push my poetry to the next level, so check ‘em out! also, got to hang in minneapolis with my old posse students at carleton all graduated and stuff as well as bao phi, juliana pegues, david mura and friends for a hot second, which was good to CONNECT.

random thought 1: how much of general dysfunctions in human relationships are due to a) supreme loneliness in all people b) slight societal tendencies towards sado-masochism c) text messaging (ha!)?

random thought 2: thinkin’ on anthems. complex, passionate, driven. i think we need ‘em, lots of ‘em.

blessings,
hot and humid kells about to get some new tattoos before her golden birthday

This is the deal, as EXECUTIVE PRODUCER:

-Contribute as little as a $1 up to $100’s via PayPal:

Or if you’d like to contribute via check or money order, contact movingearthproductions@yellowgurl.com. :

-In exchange for your contribution, you will receive:

1) Credit as Executive Producer
2) Unlimited Screening Rights to the Video (Via FTP Download or DVD screener)

The goal, the dream, the vision, is to get as many people as possible to sign onto this vision to make a call for politicians to listen up to overlooked communities across the U.S. and abroad!

We will be shooting the video in New York during the second week of August. So please do spread the word, and if you would like to help volunteer for the shoot, contact us at movingearthproductions@yellowgurl.com.

black, white, whatever
by Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai

dear campaign-trail-stomping, advertisement-fundraising, perfect-hair-having,
mudslinging-with-a-smile-so-as-to-not-make-it-look-like-mudslinging candidates for the presidency of the united states of america in 2008, the year of our lord,

i, kelly zen-yie tsai, current resident of kings county, brooklyn, and previously of precinct 47 on chicago’s south side would like to make a request for myself and others like myself to be enumerated in all further speeches, debates, and miscellaneous communications with the american public at large.

now, this could be in reference to our nation of ben and jerry’s chunky monkey ice cream eaters or our nation of women under five foot one and a half with slightly napoleonic tendencies, this could be in reference to our nation of salt ‘n pepa’s blacks magic fans or those who have not yet learned to skateboard, this could be in reference to our nation of janice dickinson modeling agency-watchers or beginning gazpacho-makers, or vegetarians who have (unfortunately) recently turned pescetarian

and although these categories above would be accurate, the nation that i would like you to refer to is even less of a statistical minority, and a fairly obvious one, and that would be:

Asian

oh, oh, oh, i know you may balk about how many Asians you have taken money from or how many Asian events you have attended, but in 2008, the year of our lord – i would like to banish, in your words, the term: “black, white, whatever” to the garbage can of mass media rhetoric forever.

even worse than this is, in your words:

“we believe in the rights of all people black, white, blue, purple, green, silver – “

now, i consider myself a fairly well-traveled and informed person and yet i don’t think that blue or purple or green or silver people exist, but in fact, brown and yellow and red people do.

we may not call ourselves these things, but if we are going to essentialize to the colors of the rainbow and relegate ourselves to stuffing communities into these sloppy pots. i would like to point out that “whatever” does not represent me, nor does blue or purple or green or silver for that matter.

and you may scream well, we can’t talk about everybody’s problems and that much is
true, but i am a sucker for specificity and when it comes down to whether or not
i actually exist and furthermore whether my heart, my uterus, my tax return, and my generation will be represented by your corny ass –

i would like to say: i’m real. i’m here. i’m voting. and believe me, this girl is yellow.

taking a ‘lil hiatus during the summer months (will be doing a few shows here and there) to just kick it and get my solo show, screenplay, and poetry manuscript done this summer before my heavy touring season hits again in the fall. so a lot of planting, sowing, tending, growing…so yup, grrowr, WATCH OUT, ha!

to be present in the writing process every time i come to the laptop or the page. like honor, like prayer, like celebration, like love. an intimate meeting with the page, the word, the self, the world, the heart, to just sit with it and not turn away, to not be afraid of what i will or won’t find. (understanding more than anything, i write with my heart, smear it on the page all messy and unrefined and that’s the gift, the blessing of it — intellect and technician be damned, they don’t run this mutha’ altho’ they try to, ha!)…lots of happy creative fertility — and i’m much about it…writing for writing’s sake and i like it

let’s see since i got back from cali…been doin’ the brooklyn summer in a serious way, slow-walking in flip flops and summer skirts down the hot-ass concrete, more dusk ’til dawn booty-shaking, and enjoying the crush of humanity that is new york in the summertime, when everybody comes out looking fly, spirits loose…everyone and everything brilliant, fresh, possible — those nights you wish would last forever. y’know, living

saw “sex and the city” in manhattan (i did wear my heels; i couldn’t resist, i’m a SATC junkie). i’ve never heard so much rampant feminine squealing in a movie theater (or anywhere for that matter), full of gratuitous fashion porn moments (i.e. couture bridal gowns, diva diamonds, and of course, killer stilettos)…but i think it’s ridiculous that the show is criticized for its portrayal of men — ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! not one of the men on the show is a prostitute or has turned up dead, which would be the case for probably 90% of the portrayals of women in pop culture throughout human history.

other snippets of the last two weeks — note to people of non-asian descent: when trying to relate to an asian person, try normal conversation like “hi, how are you? what’s your name? what do you do?” vs. rhapsodizing poetic about how much you love wushu/qigong/buddhism/studied for 90 years at the shaolin temple with sifu yaddayaddayadda, etc. — this happened to me at least FOUR TIMES in the last week. i understand that others may be excited about meeting an asian person and sharing all their random (and largely irrelevant to my lived daily reality of my culture as an asian person) knowledge about asia with said asian person, but believe me, non-asian-related conversation works just as well, thanks.

whoa, where’d my happy summer vibe go? ha! anyhoo, YAY! for barack finally getting the party nomination. thank goodness…more on that next blog, and also went to see the brown girls burlesque tribute (myspace.com/browngirlsburlesque) in honor of prince’s 50th birthday, which was saucy, scandalous, and downright brilliant.

got to go to the gnarls barkley show at irving plaza last night, which was a MIRACLE. i felt so integrated, like any separation in my body and spirit completely dissolved, any separation in the world at all — it was so hot in there, that cee-lo took his shirt off, but yes, he and danger mouse are nothing short of genius. the music (above any or all persona or marketing or media hype), plain and simple, was the healing, the salvation, the star. missed opening act janelle monae but caught battles who were raw and rocked the hell out of the spot…

okey smokey…back to poetry…

superkells

performed at abc no rio last night which was lots of fun (thanks christine!), and just got back from the bay on saturday after performing at the cal state east bay ethnic studies graduation celebration (thanks eiko!), which was good stuff too…caught up with lots and lots of spoken word/apia and taiwanese activist community fam in the bay, which was very necessary — booty-shaking with dj phatrick on the 1’s and 2’s at devil’s pie and poleng, carolyn, mitch, sahra, debbie, vu bang, r.j., steve, chin, weyland, jeff, kiwi, adriel, nico, chinaka, watsky, rafael, reynelle — got to see the intergenerational writers event over at kearny street workshop and also lalah hathaway (donny hathaway’s daughter) at yoshi’s oakland, which was amazing.

i have a lot of convo’s with folks about how the little shuffle-ly self-effacing (or self-promoting) intros before poems are just as much a part of the performance as the poem itself, but seeing lalah hathaway perform, made me wonder what poetry would be like if we harnessed the raw power of poetry, pure performance. no hyping, no congeniality, just the song, just the poem, and the rawness of the god in that. her work needed no introduction. it was a revelation, and her scatting made me realize that i’d never REALLY heard scatting before. (thanks weyland!) also, it’s nice to hear an artist whose work and reach will only deepen with time

lot of shenanigans with chicago and l.a. friends in nyc and convo’s with my friend mitch in the bay about culture as commodity, and how some accumulate “culture” like other people accumulate shoes or cars — it’s the same consumerism and elitism, just different stuff — also, this whole complex for marginalized artists re: whether our identities create niches or pigeonholes — can we embrace the niche and pimp external expectations in order to flip them? do we end up playing the system, ourselves, or both?

been reading gao xingjian’s “the case for literature” (chinese nobel laureate exile in paris who wrote “soul mountain”) — to think of the enormous lengths that people have gone to around the world to have the freedom to write. we downright squander our goddamn freedoms in the u.s. on so much dumb shit in the pursuit of profit (can’t tell you how many times i’ve been told in my career to dumb down my work) or in the pursuit of maintaining a neatly defined image of an individual or community (is it leftist enough? radical enough? hip hop enough? asian enough? whatever.)

gao xingjian sez’ “The so-called writer is nothing more than an individual speaking or writing, and whether he is listened to or read is for others to choose. The writer is not a hero acting on the orders of the people, nor is he worthy of worship as an idol, but he is certainly not a criminal or an enemy of the people. At times, he and his writings will encounter problems simply because of the needs of others. When the authorities need to manufacture a few enemies to divert people’s attention, writers will become sacrifices. Worse still, writers who have been duped actually think it is a great honour to be sacrificed.”

–> reckoning lately that what one believes about oneself is approx. 19,756,982,365 times more important than what others believe about that person, positively or negatively. it’s scientific fact. i checked it out.

until next smell,
kells the big-hearted

so let’s see…since last writing, got to perform and kick it with the folks at depauw university (yes, g-castle!), where i got to catch up with old friends and new over $3 pitchers of beer, and then that weekend performed at the 50 shots, 50 artists event honoring the memory of sean bell at the brecht forum in new york, which was very necessary. i think i was most moved by the haitian drummers and the aztec dance group that performed at the end of the night. as the aztec dance group paid homage to the 6 directions of the elements and danced and chanted, as the shakers on their legs clacked, it made me think about how folk traditions in music and dance and storytelling provide such an important release emotionally. they so often combine what is powerful and joyful and painful and physical and spiritual all in one breath, one movement. the complexity of ritual. ritual complex.

then (with parenthetical thoughts on it all)…lemme see, got to see the mary j. blige (sheer athleticism) and jay-z (icon eternal) concert and kanye west (the future now) glow in the dark tour but missed n.e.r.d. (who rocked HARD) and lupe (my chi-town hero) at msg but caught rihanna (who i actually enjoyed, even tho’ i freakin’ hate that murderer song), the slam finals over at bar 13 (so dope to see people grow inside their body of work, voice, and technique), visiting with friends from chicago by way of santa fe, and london (spreading our groundedness, community, and love everywhere), talking shop with other writers like novelists and creative non-fiction people, which brought about a lot of epiphanies for me.

questions like: whom do you give up your own authority to and why? how much can improving your art improve your life and how much can improving your life improve your art? what are your own standards for what you create beyond anyone else’s opinions - when will you be most satisfied? what is the path to believing in yourself more than you would demand anyone else to believe in you? what is the line between fiction and non-fiction and how does that impact people in the worlds around you?

lemme see, what else? just performed at kalamazoo college and did a workshop there over the last couple of days (thanks kelsay and zach and ann and amber!), which was oodles of fun. i learned that michigan has the second largest korean adoptee population in the country as well as what a guinea pig mating call looks like. so all kinds of educational, ha! been listening listening listening as hard and thoroughly as i can to everything around me…to life.

prob a lot of stuff that i’m forgetting, but also performed at an event focused on raising money for social change arts projects that was held at peter’s (as in folk legend superstars peter, paul, and mary) house where he and mary sang songs and said of the activism of the 60’s that although many paid dearly for the multiple movements of those times, that time period was infinitely fulfilling. they further called into question who will sing the songs of protest today for 500,000 people like peter, paul, and mary did during the march on washington over 45 years ago in 1963?

who indeed? not sure. workin’ on it. but i’ll bet u that facebook will be involved.

back in bk tomorrow, heading off to cali next week…

feeling. blessed.

kells

reading erich fromm’s escape from freedom right now on the recommendation of a friend…peep this:

“the more [man] gains freedom in the sense of emerging from the original oneness with man and nature and the more he becomes an ‘individual,’ has no choice but to unite himself with the world in the spontaneity of love and productive work or else to seek a kind of security by such ties with the world as destroy his freedom and the integrity of his individual self.”

more often than not if you ask folks about freedom, they say it’s something that they don’t know, right? like sean bell cops acquitted of all charges, like 36 shootings in chicago two weekends ago, like u.s. offensives in afghanistan, like voter suppression, like china and tibet, like corporate media bought from music magazines on up, like this and like that, like this and like that.

but i’ve been really meditating on the fact that this is CRITICAL. this is KEY. for us to understand what FREEDOM is on a community and personal level. it has to happen. what does it mean to unite with the spontanaiety of love and productive work? how does one feel safe and secure in a world while maintaining her or his own uniqueness? how to let the you be you and the i be i and the we be we and the they be they?

doing the open mic in champaign-urbana before my feature made me so keenly aware that THIS is what democracy looks like. every voice. every experience. every opportunity. every person. sing.

one of the students asked me what i was reading lately (christin o’keefe aptowicz’s words in your face, which brings up a lot of interesting points about slam in nyc — which makes me wonder who will archive all the poets beyond the slam scene and beyond new york, who will shape and frame that narrative of how we remember it through history and, in essence, the spectrum of democratic expression itself…

so, in the spirit of the names of all the chicago poets (many from the slam scene, many NOT from the slam scene; many from the green mill, from mental graffiti that was birthed from the ashes of lit ex) that i came across in my earlier years in the scene: marc smith, patricia smith, regie gibson, dean hacker, tyehimba jess, tara betts, mario smith, avery r. young, krista franklin, mama maria mccray, monica lee copeland, kent foreman, ken green, dan ferri, cin salach, sheila donohue, krystal ashe, anacron, mars gamba adisa caulton, shappy, jason pettis, marlon esguerra, ben ortiz, trooper tru, billy tuggle, kevin coval, bonafide rojas, dennis kim, anida ali, gina magsombol, kathy bardales, dan sullivan, nikki patin, patrick sanchez, kurt heintz, theaster gates, marvin tate, poetree chicago, lucy anderton, mugabe, motep…

and many more who i’m sure i will remember tomorrow and the next day and the day after that (and the institutions of some like it black and the batey urbano and the asian american artists collective and many many more) - but this is just a minute sampling of those whom i have shared rooms with, shared poetry with, shared lives with, whose words and experiences i spent so many nights listening to (and an even tinier slice of the poetry scene and oral expression itself in chicago)…in the name of history and poetry and democracy. may our words and lives sing —> (yes, all of that was a parenthetical with 2 paragraph breaks. and this is a parenthetical inside a parenthetical))

but i thought, well, just as good a question is who am i listening to (lupe fiasco, amy winehouse, liz phair, common), who i’m watching (katt williams, kathy griffin, dave chapelle, rev. wright, barack obama), oral culture, oral literature, we learn how to put together words from everything around us. there is such beauty and necessity in having that range of global influences. what is literate is not just what you read, but what you listen to and how you listen.

all this stuff with rev. wright makes me sad. i feel like the mainstream media is forcing barack into a corner to separate himself from the rage and pain that so many communities feel here in the u.s. like we’re supposed to ignore it all towards this happy coalition. it’s fuckin’ depressing to me that this media ploy worked. i mean, who paid off who to get this so jacked up, really?

incredible shows over at columbia university (thanks APAAM!), and mo beaseley’s urban erotika (which was new and different, talaam acey also in the house that night, thanks mo and april!), and going back to champaign-urbana (thanks bryana, ross, and may!), well, let’s just say the spoken word revolution can and needs to happen everywhere, not just in our urban centers, and a motorcycle ride through the cornfields was just what this poet-gurl needed

feeling special,
kells

and yes, it’s true. i did love “harold and kumar: escape from guantanamo bay.” cringe-worthy, crass, smart and fun.

and just for the record — not that we need more of the n-word or the b-word out there in the world, as my girl bassey said in a heated moment during our panel for the homegirls event in chicago in response to reclaiming and flipping those words: “but there are sooo many nicer words to uuuuuuuse!”

i love that little man, though. and it’s interesting — flipping what people’s expectations are at the door. on the surface, folks might think he just talks about some pimp shit, but he talks about politics and war and relationships and being a dad and how to stand up to all the haters in the world and the haters in yourself. so maybe a little bit pimp, a little bit preacher, and all of that can be housed in comedy, which is quite a blessing.

been meditating a lot on the lives of stand-up comedians, and how brilliant they are — how they can say annnnything and make you enjoy them doing it. how in one career, somebody like george carlin’s crazy ass can go from “the seven words” and being banned from airwaves around the country and a few decades later the voice of “thomas the tank engine” and “shining time station” to being in his 70’s and recording “life worth losing” and being as passionate in his nihilism as his call to humanity to wake the fuck up.

i’m liking it yes, i do.

and i guess the question of the year is what is a spoken word artist to do after hitting the point of being on Def Poetry and lots of touring gigs, what do we as a community and what do i as an artist want to do? talking to some older folks in poetry, they talk about the bitterness of never being able to sustain themselves on poetry, and unfortunately, i think about a lot of the youngbloods or less youngbloods, ha! that i meet on the scene, people seem so obsessed with sustaining themselves on poetry, since it is a possibility, albeit a slim one, a narrow one, a strange one, and brings me back to gwendolyn brooks back in day, who i met in high school, who i precociously asked, “ms. brooks, i want to be a poet, but i also want to eat.” and she looked at me and said, “you can’t be thinking about eating while you’re writing poetry.” and that’s the truth, the esteem of your muthafuckin’ self.

as my friend marlon said a long way back, “poetry is not pop-tarts,” but sometimes they can be. sometimes they are. because of our capitalistically inundated asses, whether you’re an agent, academic, publisher, poet, or promoter. it’s b/c of us. trying to find the space where integrity and content and honest work that reflects the dynamism of who we are and our lives can share rooms in the same house as capital and resources, sounds good don’t it?

to be a poet and living the life of a poet are not the same thing. you can write poems and make your bread in this way or that way off of poems or not, but are you living the poet’s life? are you alive, awake, sensitive, sincere, thoughtful? are you connected? do you feel every nerve coursing through you? are you in love with the alchemy of words, the magnificence of expression, how sounds and syllables and sense can really do it to ya’, are you down for that? is that what you want? are you ready to be open-hearted in all and every and everywhere? are you strong enough, brave enough, to be present with your emotions in every moment? are you ready to survive with a poet’s spirit? a poet’s soul? what about your life? this is the question that i’m returning to, this is where i’m at right now. what about your life? can you roll through the valley of whatever you’re going through with a poet’s heart and journey on. and what is the impact YOU want to have on yourself and the world around you.

whew! so in the last couple of weeks — did the fabulous APAYA Forum at NYU and then scooted off to Amherst for the New World Theater Intersections Conference with lots and lots and lots of art and performance — lemme just say that D’Lo’s Ramble-ations excerpt (www.dlocokid.com) and Jose Torres Tama’s excerpt (www.torrestama.com) were off the chains brilliant, so you must check ‘em out. did the reading with Ping Chong & Co. and amping up for Columbia and Mo Beasley’s set this weekend, and heading back to my alma mater next week at UIUC, so I’m most definitely looking forward to that.

sporadic use of capitalization. i know.

until next groundswell — write. on.
kells

and then the awesome awesome awesome show over at chatham university, which is a teeny tiny women’s college nestled in shadyside, pittsburgh — much love to the brilliant and talented jessica byrd and stephanie erdice and the whole entire wu-tang clan of an organizing committee they had over there for pittsburgh’s first official city-wide women of color herstory month!

their events ranged from women’s body issues and hair, ecofeminism, and more — being able to perform the closing night event with a women’s drumming group and Chatham women representing the legacies of women of color leaders by reading monologues about loretta ross, michelle obama, and benazir bhutto and others was such a treat. their coalition-building was unparalleled from the campus bicyclists club to women’s groups off-campus in pittsburgh — these sistas worked HARD to celebrate our divineness, our potential, and our agency to change the world just by how we naturally are. bet

pittsburgh is an interesting place — one-half is all the old-school steel mill workers and the other half is all college students (from what people told me while i was there)…august wilson and andy warhol both have roots in the area…all these little hills with literally mansions (some like castles!) with hidden servants’ quarters in the basements from the steel mill boom days which are now apartment buildings…a lot of history, kinda like a mix of the east coast and midwest…and in the few days i was there, i don’t think i saw even one asian, anywhere, ha!

then came home and went straight to the harlem stage film festival at the gatehouse (thanks michelle, neyda, and brad!) and the next day was taiyo na’s CD release party at the bowery poetry club — which was just PURE FAMILY — all the most lovable talented heads in the house rockin’ the mic (ishle park, vong pak, vudoo soul, craig chin, misnomers, magnetic north, dj boo, koba, el gambina, conchita alonso, faye chiang, of course myself, ha! — ai, am i forgetting anybody?) of the apia spoken word and hip hop scene — taiyo is such a brilliant programmer and person and to cop the new album go to: cdbaby.com/cd/taiyona2

ugh…like a novel, but it’s been a minute so you can hang with me right? and last saturday was the fabulous oveous maximus’ l’ovematic 2- year anniversary event at club love, which had lots of lots of dope poets from all over the east coast and some from our tribes on the west — an ill live band and was actually hosted by scion, so big up to ove for making the night a success — fish vargas did an incredible version of “who is emmett till?” with the band, and of course i’m biased b/c he dedicated it to me, ha! but yes, it was super-dope!

tuesday night was the women’s/trans poetry jam over at bluestockings (which is a collective feminist bookstore, so yes — please support! and you can nab my chapbooks and cd over there too…) hosted by vittoria repetto (much love to kimmie and jeff, belen and the whole bluestockings crew)…read a couple of new grooves including a poem that only people who have read kate chopin’s “the awakening” AND seen “thelma & louise AND seen “set it off” would understand…so if this is you, email me and i’ll send it to you, ha!…it’s called “stony sipping margaritas by the sea…”

in closing (ha!), been thinking about the shame of being a marginalized person who makes art is sometimes we’re so caught up in explaining or over-explaining ourselves to others who we feel don’t understand us that we lose the heart of what is or can be the point of art: for me, that is an intimate emotional experience, sharing with others a state of being, of conflict or grace or the transitions in between through words or movement or music or images…why we got to feel that we always have to explain so much? fuck ‘em and let’s keep it moving.

got to see amanda lepore (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanda_Lepore) perform last night at the bridge art fair in manhattan, which was incredible. i was feeling aggravated about my own femininity and beauty (i.e. people focusing more on how you look and a possible hook-up than who you are, what you do, etc.)…watching amanda lepore i got caught up in this complete fantasy of what beauty is, of the body celebrated (and yes, hers is WAY BEYOND human via plastic surgery) and what it could be to be a woman (yes, she is a transsexual), but watching her masterful performance of her songs about pussy and her hair being fierce, what i felt more than anything was confidence and being in touch with the magnificence within yourself no matter where or what body that’s housed in…

from her christian leboutin’s to her blue sequined strapless dress, the seam on the back of her black stockings to the blue crystals pasted on her breasts and coochie (b/c yes, she was mostly naked by the end), her ENORMOUS pink silicone lips, thick-lined and eyelashed eyes, her hair in perfect bottle blonde curls around her face. she’s found HER own kind of fantastic perfection from the outside in (or maybe from the inside out) and shares it with all of us…

although i don’t think we all gotta hyper-femme it up and plastic surgerize to get there (i know, it’s problematic this, it’s problematic that) — riding home on the train, looking at everyone around me (tired and rumpled and dressed in regular street clothes), i hoped that everyone in the world could feel as magnificent and magical as she was for just those four songs, no matter what it takes for you to get there (well, in a healthy way for you, but you know what i mean).

the power of fantasy can be the power of hope if we put the actions in every day to get there. much more on the heart and mind, but that’s enough for now!

until next spell…
kells