For This Is Not America...
This is not America, sha la la la la
A little piece of you
The little peace in me
Will die [This is not a miracle]
For this is not America
-- Lyrics by David Bowie and Pat Metheny
Well, it's that time of year again, Sam want his money--all of it, now-- and it seem like damn near every other deadline on the planet is due as well. Can't complain, just handle the business. Do the thang. And as you can see, I done reached back on you! Been singin' this l'il ditty by David Bowie and Pat Metheny all day. And you know, they released this in '85 and it's as relevant now as it was then. And that's what some folk call art. I'ma just say I'm feelin' this today. Especially after reading this article in the NYTimes today: No. 2 Intelligence Nominee Testifies on Privacy Rules.
April in New York, mo' specifically, in Harlem, brings up so many great concerts, readings, and other artistic doin's, that folk rarely at the house, but this buddin' spring, I had to cut down on some of the fine action, as I'm in nomad mode again. Got some workshops I'm teaching, and Lawd, if they ain't spread all 'cross the land. Sho' will be good to see my chil'rens! Good indeed. Between the Big Girl's social schedule and the L'il One's school one, can't tell if I'm coming or going. And don't let's talk about Mama writing today. Barely birthed three lines before the phone was ringin' about some other commitment. Now, I know most creative folk just shut down the line when they're in their groove, but a mamartiste (or papartiste), can't afford to be cut off like that, especially during the prime hours when kids are prone to rip n' run at recess and bust they lovely wata heads! Or, more often than not these days, when a slick teen calls asking for more money, pleaze...
Fortunately, at least one of the schools is nearby, walking distance, so most days, I can poke my head in, if needed. And sweet sweetie had a mini-meltdown today, as one of her beloved beanie bunny thangs is missing in action. Never mind that toys are not permitted in class anyway. She tried to be slick, stuffing it in her backpack and now it's lost. We marched all over the playground and through much of the school, but no luck. So this is where the magick comes in. Watch mama make a new bunny magickally appear... A mama's work never done.
April in New York, mo' specifically, in Harlem, brings up so many great concerts, readings, and other artistic doin's, that folk rarely at the house, but this buddin' spring, I had to cut down on some of the fine action, as I'm in nomad mode again. Got some workshops I'm teaching, and Lawd, if they ain't spread all 'cross the land. Sho' will be good to see my chil'rens! Good indeed. Between the Big Girl's social schedule and the L'il One's school one, can't tell if I'm coming or going. And don't let's talk about Mama writing today. Barely birthed three lines before the phone was ringin' about some other commitment. Now, I know most creative folk just shut down the line when they're in their groove, but a mamartiste (or papartiste), can't afford to be cut off like that, especially during the prime hours when kids are prone to rip n' run at recess and bust they lovely wata heads! Or, more often than not these days, when a slick teen calls asking for more money, pleaze...
Fortunately, at least one of the schools is nearby, walking distance, so most days, I can poke my head in, if needed. And sweet sweetie had a mini-meltdown today, as one of her beloved beanie bunny thangs is missing in action. Never mind that toys are not permitted in class anyway. She tried to be slick, stuffing it in her backpack and now it's lost. We marched all over the playground and through much of the school, but no luck. So this is where the magick comes in. Watch mama make a new bunny magickally appear... A mama's work never done.
posted by Sheree Renée Thomas at 5:50:00 PM
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