Seems like I just got used to writing "09" at work and here we are in the midst of the 2009 Holiday season. This year has been especially trying for many of us who struggle through, "the worst recession since,..." you know the rest. President Barack Obama has his hands full with health care, "his" war(s), the economy, and a Nobel Peace prize to embody through like actions. We were astounded to hear about Michael Jackson's 50 concerts in London to be his final career curtain call. Equally astounding was his death and ever-controversial report of a drug overdose from a cocktail of pain-killers and possible malpractice.
Without attempting a "wrap-up" like Virginia rapper Skills, I'll focus on another missing entity from this December's march towards Christmas and New Years celebrations: THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT.
This past weekend kicked off holiday parties and the timing couldn't be more perfect. Here, at the 2010 tailgate, I enjoyed a rousing night of twerking at Atlanta's ever jumpin Central Station Sports Bar. It had been over a year since I stepped foot in this smoky, slang-stained, and liquor splattered night-spot. No fights, dim lights, and a thick, southern-fried atmosphere set the scene for a delightful trip to my younger days attending winter parties in the A where body-heat replaced leather coats and scarves. I even waited in line! Once inside, my coat, more like wooly a layer of fat, came off and I made my rounds doing "the freak," the wop, and shaking my head to the days passed when music wasn't so vulgar I couldn't find the perfect beat to dance solo. I got home about 6am. And I have to thank my hood ambassador Fly, for serving as the impetus for my unlikely yet, refreshingly funky outing.
Everyday is a holiday... and Winters in the A remind me of the Nike Pavilion and other youthful places of delight.
Flipping the page, I sported a collared shirt and slacks at the Latin themed holiday party of the Jarvii. Lauren and Steve are two of my good friends who never disappoint during holiday seasons. More settled in their Buckhead apartment, seven floors above the shoppers, they pulled out all the culinary stops to serve us with excellent music, great company, and delectable food for their guests!
LBJ's homemade salsa was an instant hit and set the stage for more gourmet treats to emerge from their busy kitchen. The music was on-point. A mix of spicy salsa (no pun intended) music and DJ Jazzy Jeff's definitive guide to house music provided the perfect ambiance to groove. Party planners take note! Music and food can turn a regular party to a festive themed party, adding a splash to your entertaining in future holiday seasons.
The Jarvis event was the perfect fit as the sun set over the emerging Buckhead skyline from their magnificent enclosed sun room balcony.
Togetherness, in its many forms are what I'm speaking on today. While retail reports come in offering meager numbers, job-market stability has us all queasy, and travel plans are thwarted because of budget cuts or inclimate weather, we still find reasons to get together and celebrate the joy of good company. Family and friends may not have time to meet during the busy work weeks; holidays provide some much needed breaks from work and a reason to congregate.
This year, while enjoying your egg nog, look around and bask in your surroundings! You've made it another year and are hopefully around happy friends and family. And if that isn't enough, remember the reason for this season, the celebration of the birth of Jesus - possibly humanity's best friend.
The gift of giving remains a strong theme for many who seek to embody the bright glow of Christmas lights...may this season be a time to celebrate the birth of your friendships... a lasting testament to surviving another twelve month year.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Santos - that coming sun
We patiently await your arrival. You are the product of one of the universal miracles... if even for a short time, there was love. And you are the child of that mix of surprise, sun, and smiles. Your father is my best friend since childhood. We used to play outdoors: climbing trees, jumping from high places, exploring music videos, and for kicks, karate.
Your dad loves the sistas... He left his indelible smile with them and in return many women have some lasting love for Mr.T
I would not call myself envious, but curious as to what its like being so free. Your daddy runs free, like a lone wolf or a falcon in flight. As a matter of fact, there is a hawk who showed up at our mention. We were standing in his mother's driveway, discussing life -as we often do- and T brings up the hawk... then in a clearing between many large pines, circles the hawk. After a few loops as if to say, I AM HERE WITH YOU... it flies off into denser forest, and remains unseen. We share many moments like this. You are a moment unfolding in time. I remember a deer as well...
I was there when T met your mother... Somewhat a catalyst, our lives are entangled and I could not help but notice your mother's beauty as well... for she wore her hair in twists and sported a cute hoodie. T went after her, I admired - as i often do- and wondered if I'd see her again. That was a difference between us. See, I give sistas back to the cosmos... with the meditation that those who are good for me, I will see again. Tony leaps head first into the fleeting moment. He claws to seize some remnant of Life's harmonious fusion of humanity and opportunity. Tony, is a type A.
It is the day after what we call "Thanksgiving." I hope you learn the true story of this blood soaked, tear jerked, and pox infested holiday. Our nation buries many of its shameful acts in "proclamations" and public "apologies." All-the-while, history remains taught in its least interesting, accurate, and provocative forms.
History is everything we have done...the past dimension... and to be aware of today is to acknowledge that if notions of evil from an unkind word, to assault, to murder, genocide, abuse, etc exist today, then they always have existed. The Powerful corrupt, enraged women sought revenge, and people have generally f-ed up. So, in looking back, it can't be just a string of random events in the history books, right?
Santos, you already have a story. You are part of mine. I make my own way for you as "God-Father," "Uncle," "Fam." When you are ready for this world... we are ready for you. May you be fed with the Bread of Life, that you might know and find truth, love, light, and joy.
In closing, one day you will pass the Universal Torch of Consciousness to another, this is my only request... serve our future well, as we prepare a way for you.
-delano
Your dad loves the sistas... He left his indelible smile with them and in return many women have some lasting love for Mr.T
I would not call myself envious, but curious as to what its like being so free. Your daddy runs free, like a lone wolf or a falcon in flight. As a matter of fact, there is a hawk who showed up at our mention. We were standing in his mother's driveway, discussing life -as we often do- and T brings up the hawk... then in a clearing between many large pines, circles the hawk. After a few loops as if to say, I AM HERE WITH YOU... it flies off into denser forest, and remains unseen. We share many moments like this. You are a moment unfolding in time. I remember a deer as well...
I was there when T met your mother... Somewhat a catalyst, our lives are entangled and I could not help but notice your mother's beauty as well... for she wore her hair in twists and sported a cute hoodie. T went after her, I admired - as i often do- and wondered if I'd see her again. That was a difference between us. See, I give sistas back to the cosmos... with the meditation that those who are good for me, I will see again. Tony leaps head first into the fleeting moment. He claws to seize some remnant of Life's harmonious fusion of humanity and opportunity. Tony, is a type A.
It is the day after what we call "Thanksgiving." I hope you learn the true story of this blood soaked, tear jerked, and pox infested holiday. Our nation buries many of its shameful acts in "proclamations" and public "apologies." All-the-while, history remains taught in its least interesting, accurate, and provocative forms.
History is everything we have done...the past dimension... and to be aware of today is to acknowledge that if notions of evil from an unkind word, to assault, to murder, genocide, abuse, etc exist today, then they always have existed. The Powerful corrupt, enraged women sought revenge, and people have generally f-ed up. So, in looking back, it can't be just a string of random events in the history books, right?
Santos, you already have a story. You are part of mine. I make my own way for you as "God-Father," "Uncle," "Fam." When you are ready for this world... we are ready for you. May you be fed with the Bread of Life, that you might know and find truth, love, light, and joy.
In closing, one day you will pass the Universal Torch of Consciousness to another, this is my only request... serve our future well, as we prepare a way for you.
-delano
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Uncharted Dopeness
When coupled, these words present a problem and product of today's hip hop. As a recent attendee and contributor to the Art Beats + Lyrics annual gallery showcase, I wonder how long the afterglow of such a crossover event will last? The event has metamorphosed from its beginning at the High Museum of Art to its most recent location at the W Hotel.Co-founders Jabari Graham and Dubelyoo are using flashbulb miracle grow.
But what happens to Atlanta's incredible potluck of creative genius after the gala lights go dim and another week of trolling Castleberry ends up at MJQ? If prints aren't sold and your secret obsession with hip hop culture doesn't translate into a lushly spray painted mural then the incubated talent returns to preaching dopeness to the choir. Bboys and girls still break, real singers still gleam off rhinestones from commercial R&B, and the painters and djs mix colors and sounds for our chemically dependent palates. The process continues as more hipsters emerge from photoblog sites, the land of ego, claiming to slang the newest nuclear threat to those without ambition, sex, and spiritually - all on a graphic tee, in slim jeans, sporting spectral sneakers.
"Let the liquor tell it"
Black in America 2 did a fair job in displaying the multi-layered levels of Black thought, society, and process (emphasis on fair). Again, what happens to the characters after the cameras are switched off and the talents they employ return to just that, abilities? What becomes of our beloved superheroes if there isn't another episode next week? Same bat time, same bat channel, but no batman. To put it another way, if a tree falls in the woods and nobody is there to see it, does it make a sound... follow?
Without getting into the discussion about why talents aren't maximized or why one is more successful than another, I'll focus on the "Uncharted Dopness," those who manifest their very best but, don't make the ATL-List and blast off to inking a deal with (insert mogul here).
ATLanta has plenty of stars. Atlantis is a city born of starlight and tidal sways of passion, process, and progress.
For Example: On any given Sunday, Apache Cafe and Java Monkey host poetic open mics... As a former designated driver on the poetic highway, I've heard THE TRUTH in all its candid gore and abstraction leaking amniotic fluid on stages... It's amazing to behold! I bear witness to b-boy's grandeur on beer splattered floors and saw a flautist revert hip hop to straight ahead jazz. Singers still summon purple clouds to spill their guts. It's sickening.
Bottom line, moments like Prince's "Purple Rain" still occur. Black Love and hip hop aren't dead...just invisible, and in some almost forgotten corners of the world, truth prevails. There is a religion to this shit. If you don't know what you're looking for then you won't find shit. But, to those still digging in life's crates, there are more than enough enchanted jewels to raise Atlantis.
So, give an independent artist a try if they REALLY MOVE you. Ask who is still making beats (though the craze may be dying down as reality hits or misses so called "producers"), eat at a family owned restaurant, cop some couture, and you too can be a trend setter.
Seek your creative best and ye shall find... uncharted dopeness.
But what happens to Atlanta's incredible potluck of creative genius after the gala lights go dim and another week of trolling Castleberry ends up at MJQ? If prints aren't sold and your secret obsession with hip hop culture doesn't translate into a lushly spray painted mural then the incubated talent returns to preaching dopeness to the choir. Bboys and girls still break, real singers still gleam off rhinestones from commercial R&B, and the painters and djs mix colors and sounds for our chemically dependent palates. The process continues as more hipsters emerge from photoblog sites, the land of ego, claiming to slang the newest nuclear threat to those without ambition, sex, and spiritually - all on a graphic tee, in slim jeans, sporting spectral sneakers.
"Let the liquor tell it"
Black in America 2 did a fair job in displaying the multi-layered levels of Black thought, society, and process (emphasis on fair). Again, what happens to the characters after the cameras are switched off and the talents they employ return to just that, abilities? What becomes of our beloved superheroes if there isn't another episode next week? Same bat time, same bat channel, but no batman. To put it another way, if a tree falls in the woods and nobody is there to see it, does it make a sound... follow?
Without getting into the discussion about why talents aren't maximized or why one is more successful than another, I'll focus on the "Uncharted Dopness," those who manifest their very best but, don't make the ATL-List and blast off to inking a deal with (insert mogul here).
ATLanta has plenty of stars. Atlantis is a city born of starlight and tidal sways of passion, process, and progress.
For Example: On any given Sunday, Apache Cafe and Java Monkey host poetic open mics... As a former designated driver on the poetic highway, I've heard THE TRUTH in all its candid gore and abstraction leaking amniotic fluid on stages... It's amazing to behold! I bear witness to b-boy's grandeur on beer splattered floors and saw a flautist revert hip hop to straight ahead jazz. Singers still summon purple clouds to spill their guts. It's sickening.
Bottom line, moments like Prince's "Purple Rain" still occur. Black Love and hip hop aren't dead...just invisible, and in some almost forgotten corners of the world, truth prevails. There is a religion to this shit. If you don't know what you're looking for then you won't find shit. But, to those still digging in life's crates, there are more than enough enchanted jewels to raise Atlantis.
So, give an independent artist a try if they REALLY MOVE you. Ask who is still making beats (though the craze may be dying down as reality hits or misses so called "producers"), eat at a family owned restaurant, cop some couture, and you too can be a trend setter.
Seek your creative best and ye shall find... uncharted dopeness.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Getting Close
The interview went great. Now you know there is more to the story but overall I am VERY proud of myself!
The trend echoed by the Universe continued during my recent trip to St. Augustine for an interview for PT School. Part of my dream is actualized by making it to this point in the process of becoming a doctor of physical therapy.
It started early friday morning (july 31). Coffee was made by a hostel resident who'd gotten up about 6:15AM. By, 6:40 I was on a lil jog through the neighborhood to wear off some of the jitters from percolated coffee beans and nerves.
I arrived to campus early and was delighted to have the picture requested of me in the interview announcement sent to me via e-mail a month prior. 8:30 rolled around and people trickled in over the thirty minutes allotted before the day's events started.
Founder/Owner Stanley Paris was graciously on-hand to give opening remarks welcoming we potentials of his Physical and Occupational Therapy School.
Two current professors answered questions about each respective program. To my surprise, I received a wave from one of the speakers who recognized me from my sit-in her Neurology class! Wow, the same two professors from the class I happened to observe! Coolness!
After a tour of the campus by two female students, it was essay time. I opened the "top secret" envelope and picked up a pre-sharpened pencil. I composed a perfectly academic 5-paragraph essay. Whew!
last was the interview. An African sounding (and looking) professor greeted my arrival to his office and the questioning began somewhat casually with him asking we three interviewees, "So, are you nervous? If so, why?"
Though the outcome is out of my hands, I left the interview feeling I'd put both my best feet forward.
I am coming close to my goal... "let's meet!"
-delano :c)
The trend echoed by the Universe continued during my recent trip to St. Augustine for an interview for PT School. Part of my dream is actualized by making it to this point in the process of becoming a doctor of physical therapy.
It started early friday morning (july 31). Coffee was made by a hostel resident who'd gotten up about 6:15AM. By, 6:40 I was on a lil jog through the neighborhood to wear off some of the jitters from percolated coffee beans and nerves.
I arrived to campus early and was delighted to have the picture requested of me in the interview announcement sent to me via e-mail a month prior. 8:30 rolled around and people trickled in over the thirty minutes allotted before the day's events started.
Founder/Owner Stanley Paris was graciously on-hand to give opening remarks welcoming we potentials of his Physical and Occupational Therapy School.
Two current professors answered questions about each respective program. To my surprise, I received a wave from one of the speakers who recognized me from my sit-in her Neurology class! Wow, the same two professors from the class I happened to observe! Coolness!
After a tour of the campus by two female students, it was essay time. I opened the "top secret" envelope and picked up a pre-sharpened pencil. I composed a perfectly academic 5-paragraph essay. Whew!
last was the interview. An African sounding (and looking) professor greeted my arrival to his office and the questioning began somewhat casually with him asking we three interviewees, "So, are you nervous? If so, why?"
Though the outcome is out of my hands, I left the interview feeling I'd put both my best feet forward.
I am coming close to my goal... "let's meet!"
-delano :c)
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Choose Your Own Adventure
If you want to look for treasure turn to page 37.
If you want to wait for the storm to end turn to page 92.
As a child I distinctly remember "Coose Your Own Adventure" books. These delightful books not only created a wonderful fantasy, but allowed for its readers to play an integral part of the plot development. I'd make a decision, turn the pages quickly and eagerly absorb the fate of the protagonist... Sometimes the "treasure" lead me to be attacked by "pirates" and I'd lose some valuable time or resources on my quest. I'd turn back to the decision-making page and try the second option and turn the pages, with some relief that this fate would at least be different, if not better, than the first outcome.
However, in life, we are not always so fortunate to go back and amend our past mistakes or poor decisions so effortlessly...
A fair approach seems to create as many memories to base future decisions off of. Also the use of breadcrumbs or Polaroids as a trail of reminders can help when trying to find your way back home...
As an adventure seeking, patient, and optimistic person, I'm determined to enjoy life before and after each crossroads. True there are consequences for chosing one path over another, but that's life! I proceed with confident caution. Stay tuned for more unfolding events, as the pages turn!
-dniceness (ooh i like that, d niceness!)
If you want to wait for the storm to end turn to page 92.
As a child I distinctly remember "Coose Your Own Adventure" books. These delightful books not only created a wonderful fantasy, but allowed for its readers to play an integral part of the plot development. I'd make a decision, turn the pages quickly and eagerly absorb the fate of the protagonist... Sometimes the "treasure" lead me to be attacked by "pirates" and I'd lose some valuable time or resources on my quest. I'd turn back to the decision-making page and try the second option and turn the pages, with some relief that this fate would at least be different, if not better, than the first outcome.
However, in life, we are not always so fortunate to go back and amend our past mistakes or poor decisions so effortlessly...
A fair approach seems to create as many memories to base future decisions off of. Also the use of breadcrumbs or Polaroids as a trail of reminders can help when trying to find your way back home...
As an adventure seeking, patient, and optimistic person, I'm determined to enjoy life before and after each crossroads. True there are consequences for chosing one path over another, but that's life! I proceed with confident caution. Stay tuned for more unfolding events, as the pages turn!
-dniceness (ooh i like that, d niceness!)
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