Diva Blue's Blog

A Closed Mouth Never Gets Fed!

2012-02-16T17:37:00.000-08:00

Ok...I need your help and a closed mouth never gets fed! So here it is...

Today, I had to use some of my moving funds to cover the first round of my hospital fees from my surgery. Yep, I am paying for my surgery out of pocket and I'm making it work. However, in securing my uHaul and moving my LIFE to Atlanta, I could use your help replacing that money...and here's how:

I am asking you to purchase the eBOOK version of my coffee table book "The Box 69". Why the eBook version? The eBook cost $30 as oppose to the $200 printed version. OK...let me explain: The print version, which many of you have purchased and thank you, is $200, of which I get $25 as the profit, but the newly available eBook version is $30, of which I make $28. For an electronic book, Blurb takes only $2 to cover its cost. The eBook can read on the iPad, iPhone, and iPod Touch. (http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2275576)

To replace the amount I took out today to pay my first round of hospital fees, I need to sell 50 eBook versions of my book and I think we can do that. I want you to buy the eBook because once I'm settled in Atlanta, I want to get out and do readings/performances from "The Box 69". So, if you haven't bought the book already, would you kindly...and share the info for purchasing the book with your friends. Who knows, maybe with a "sudden" sell of 50 books, I can build some additional momentum for the book in general!

If you've bought the book already but still would like to help me out, you either purchase the book as a gift for someone else, purchase one of the other books available (weekly planners and journals) or use my Paypal account at https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=2PLPXXECTNLPA

The Box 69: A Photographic Chronicle in Verse, Song, and Crayons. by Diva Blue Publications | Make Your Own Book

What Whitney, Bobby, Michael, and so many others can teach us: Compassion Despite Flaws

2012-02-12T14:54:00.000-08:00

This is going to be a little scattered but...Facebook asked, "what's on your mind?" SO... In a little over a year (13 months), Bobby Brown has lost his mother (Jan '11), his father (Dec '11) and now Whitney. I would say that's a rough year. With the death of Whitney, Bobby's being called a lot of nasty, hurtful things and it's sad. It's sad because when folks are living and "well", we care a little less about being kind. There is a man grieving, with his daughter, lives and loves that meant to the world to him. We saw the star. We judge the star. But there is a human. There is a life. Lives. We take for granted that life, in all its flawed fashion, is precious and fleeting.

I'll be the first to admit that I stopped paying attention to Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston as these amazing voices and world renown talents and took to judging the circus that surrounded their lives. I wrote them off as "has beens" and moved on to the next wave of voices and talents who have TRIED to imitate these greats in their primes. Here are TWO headliners: WE ALL FALL. The "prime" of our lives is NOT our entire lives. WE ALL HAVE CHOICE and FREE WILL. The habits, good and bad, we choose are of our choice. We know Bobby owned a bad boy persona but that's not to say he forced Whitney to snort coke or smoke weed. Allow me to refer to Bobby's "My Prerogative" when we consider choice to do things that either help or harm us.

I woke up this morning, with a heaviness...a hurt...a continued disbelief of Whitney's passing. The disbelief wasn't of the fact that she in fact died, though I was saddened and shocked by that news. The disbelief is in the fact that we IMMEDIATELY look for places to blame, vilify those people and deify the person we've lost.

Compassion.

Compassion is what I'm speaking of, I think. Compassion for the person fighting addiction...for the person fighting to love an addict...for the children left behind...for the loved one grieving. Whitney Houston is deeply burned into the soundtrack of my life. My high school song was "One Moment in Time". "The Bodyguard" soundtrack gave me the Whitney I fell in love with (prior to that I preferred Sade to Whitney and use to argue with folks about why I like her voice more...lol). She was good in "Waiting to Exhale" but that damn "Shoop" song...that was my cut! And THAT is how you sing our national anthem!! I love Whitney. I forgot to love the human...flaws and all. We tend to embrace "the star", but like all stars, they flash burned hot and bright for a moment in time. Love the human, not the star. I must remember that. We all must.

My ramblings...

I Am Free...

2012-02-12T10:48:00.000-08:00

I'm free.

...but it'll cost ya.

I've been giving too much of myself freely,

For free.

That's too costly for me

And no interest

From you.

I'm gonna need some emotional deposits...

Some passionate dividends...

Some romantic investment...

Before another person get love's withdrawal

From me.

I am free.

But it WILL cost ya.

The Long DRIVE Home...LOL...

2012-02-09T17:05:00.000-08:00

View Larger Map

Rear View Mirror

2012-01-28T08:40:00.000-08:00

I'm breaking the rear view mirror.
Sitting in a forward position
Facing a new direction
I look up and I see you
Standing there
Waiting for me to back up
Swing back through
Drive this patch of road
Again.
I'm breaking the rear view mirror
Because you appear closer than you really are.
Bigger than you really are.
An illusion
I can't go back
Can't keep driving in circles.
I'm breaking the rear view mirror
Because if I make this trip again
I need to give up my license.
I'M in the driver seat.
I can only go back if I choose to go back
And I keep choosing.
And so now I'm late.
I'm late.
I'm missing appointments
Opportunities and dates
Because I won't break my mutha fuckin' rear view mirror!
Damn a seven year bad luck
I'm driving on a flat tire
On the same round trip.
It's meant to help with quick glances back
To make sure I'm safe not to hit something in my way
Or something I've already passed in the past.
I've got to break my rear view mirror
Because I keep seeing you
With your thumb up
Hitchhiking on my happiness
And I keep picking you up
Expecting a 'thanks for the ride'
But no.
Time to drop you off at this bus stop
And drive off.
I've GOT to break my rear view mirror.
And drive on.

Did you get a new iPad for Christmas?!

2012-01-05T11:56:00.000-08:00

Raise your hand if you got an iPad or a new iPhone for Christmas?! Ok! Cool. OK...now...Raise your hand if you haven't added many new iBooks or eBooks yet? OK...I've got a NEW eBook for you!! The Box 69: A Photo Blog Series Coffee Book is now available in an electronic form! If you have an iPad/iPhone/iPod Touch, you can have the full collection for $29.99. Visit http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2275576 and get your download today! You can still get the printed version of the book as well. The 2012 Box 69: 69 Cities in 69 Colors is coming soon! Get your book today and be ready for the rainbow!!

The Box 69: A Photographic Chronicle in Verse, Song, and Crayons. by Diva Blue Publications | Make Your Own Bookhttp://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/2275576

"Genesis" Character Casting Breakdown:

2011-11-10T22:18:00.001-08:00

"Genesis" Character Casting Breakdown:

1986

Dr. Alegra Tolson: African American Woman, 30 years old

Dr. Donovan Tolson : African American Man, 30 years old

Dr. Eli Jensen: African American Man, 30 years old

Taige Tolson: African American Girl, 6 years old; Power: Earth

Xavier Tolson: African American Boy, 5 years old; Power: Water

Xander Tolson: African American Girl, 5 years old; Power: Fire

Jordan Tolson: African American Girl, 4 years old; Power: Air

Quincey Tolson: African American Boy, 2 years old; Power: Technology

Amanda Messeck: Caucasian Woman, 30 years old

Asa Messeck: Caucasian Man, 60 years old

Present

Dr. Alegra Tolson: African American Woman, 50 years old

Dr. Donovan Tolson : African American Man, 50 years old

Dr. Eli Jensen: African American Man, 50 years old

Taige Tolson: African American Woman, 26 years old; Hero; Power: Earth

Xavier Tolson: African American Man, 25 years old; Hero; Power: Water

Xander Tolson: African American Woman, 25 years old; Hero; Power: Fire

Jordan Tolson: African American Woman, 24 years old; Hero; Power: Air

Quincey Tolson: African American Man, 22 years old; Hero; Power: Technology

Amanda Messeck: Caucasian Woman, 50 years old

Azure: African American Woman, Mid to late 20's; Villain; Power: Ice

Slick: African American Man, Mid to late 20's; Villain; Power: Oil

Lalo: Polynesian/Pacific Islander, Mid to late 20's; Villain; Power: Lava

Esau: Any Ethnicity Man, Mid to late 20's; Villain; Power: Sand

Rachel: African American Woman, 20 years old; Villain; Power: Cloning

Deirdre: Any Ethnicity Woman, Mid to late 20's; Taige's neighbor

Sam: Caucasian Man, Early 20's years old; Quincey Classmate/Roommate:

Mr. Atkins: Caucasian Man, 60 years old

Genesis: New American Superheroes The Movie

Auditions: December 3 & 4, 2011; 5pm-10pm.

Callbacks: Dec 8 @ 11am-3pm.

First Table Read: Dec. 9 @ 9am-6pm.

Morgan-Wixson Theater;

2627 Pico Blvd.

Santa Monica, CA.

Reading for ALL ROLES.

Sides will be selected from the script. Download/Read Script at https://acrobat.com/#d=81Q6FMNwThGwUAUat8Mnsg

Email Headshot & Resume to genesistdv@gmail.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/genesisdivablue

Twitter: @genesisthemovie

The Box 69 Coffee Table Book!!! Get Yours Today!!!

2011-10-13T02:19:00.000-07:00

The Box 69: A Photographic Chronicle in Verse, Song, and Crayons. by Diva Blue Publications | Make Your Own Book

The American Dream? No. The American PLAN!

2011-09-28T23:58:00.000-07:00

Too many of us are buying the "American Dream" on credit. Others are puttin' that sh!t on layaway, chippin' away at it, paycheck to paycheck, a bit at a time, HOPING to own it one day...paying far more than the "suggested retail price". The "American Dream" is a poorly stitched, cheaply made, widely duplicated IDEA of success...of happiness. Retirement is no longer the goal...now, too early, the fear. Where will you be with the "American Dream" goes to the clearance rack? What passions do you possess to marry with the skill sets you possess so you can live the life you DESERVE and DESIRE to possess?! What is YOUR plan?...Because a "dream" is NOT a "plan"! Let's reclaim our dreams...our goals...and make "The American PLAN." Because the "American Dream" as we know it, has one more tag on it...turn it over: "Made In China". Good night my fellow Americans. Sleep well. Rest up. Hit it hard again tomorrow. The "American Plan" is NOT Political. It's Revolutionary.

-TDV

"WWSLD?: What Would Spike Lee Do?"

2011-09-27T10:52:00.000-07:00

WHAT WOULD SPIKE LEE DO?!

A NEW SUPERHERO FRANCHISE.…

"GENESIS: NEW AMERICAN SUPERHEROES"!

"Genesis" Concept Video

"Genesis" Intro Video

Stunts Coord. Demo w/Blackberry Playbook

My name is Terésa Dowell-Vest and I am NOT asking for your money!

My name is Terésa Dowell-Vest and I am the producer/creator of "Genesis", film's first TEAM of Black Superheroes! The story spans three films moving from Tuskegee projects (1940-70's) in the American south to modern day Los Angeles. Rarely have we seen a superhero franchise take place in Los Angeles, and NEVER have we seen a team of ALL BLACK SUPERHEROES on film!! This is about to change THIS FALL! MY GOAL: ONE YEAR FROM NOW, I want African American children to have Superheroes THEY can be for Halloween! I want children of color to have THEIR own heroes who look like them! YOU can help me make that happen!

Little Boy from San Fran. Speak About "Genesis"

The "Genesis" Facebook fan page (www.facebook.com/genesisdivablue) is growing daily and the franchise merchandise store (www.zazzle.com/divablue) is teeming with great apparel! We even have an INTERNATIONAL presence in the Caribbean, Europe, and Australia. We were recently given a film launch party in Hamilton, Bermuda, September 4, 2011.Now it's YOUR turn to join the franchise.

"Genesis" Facebook Page

1.) We want your help securing the cast and crew for the film. Recommend/share your resources and design contacts with us!Simply put, I want the artists/designers who you feel could help me "MAKE" a superhero film! Put me in contact with ALL designers, talent, editors, special effects and music for the first film and the video game.

2.) Purchase this “Genesis” QRC Interactive tee shirt (or other item) and show your support for the franchise.

"Genesis" QRC Interactive T-Shirt

Now...if you feel you can not do #1 and/or #2, then…

3.) Make a generous donation to the film's budget and help us meet our goal of $2 million to launch this franchise! This film is going to turn $2M to $20M...AT LEAST!! To contribute to "Genesis", you can make a generous donation at www.tdvisdivablue.com and click the DONATE link, or contact me directly at 213-840-5492 / genesistdv@gmail.com.

Donate to "Genesis"

Finally to create more of a buzz about the project and to ensure a strong following for the franchise, please TWEET the following statement "I SUPPORT 'GENESIS: NEW AMERICAN SUPERHEROES'!!

"Genesis" on Twitter

I am taking a page out of Spike Lee’s book of making your work “by any means necessary” when he made "Malcolm X":I'm asking the Black Entertainment community to get behind a project that will give us and all our children a positive group of heroes to admire.The “Genesis” trilogy IS the next “Matrix”, “X-Men”, and “Spiderman”!! WE can make a difference in what it means to be a Superhero!!

TDV & "Genesis" T-Shirt

TDV, "Genesis" & Autocorrect

TDV "Genesis" & "Soul Train"

"Genesis" Merchandise

Registered with the Library of Congress (LOC) and the Writers Guild of America-west
(WGAw)

WGA#: 1150111 / LOC# PAu3-101-890

Thank you,

TDV

200 Faxes...and QRCs

2011-09-27T09:41:00.000-07:00

Ok...200 faxes. Genesis: New American Superheroes is sending 200 faxes this week to members of Black Hollywood and Athletes spreading the word about "Genesis". The letter states first that I'm not asking for their money...I want their resources (contacts, endorsement, support, talents) on the FRANCHISE that is "Genesis" (three films, a video game, a 9 book novel series, and merchandise). The business plan lays out how all of this will come together. My story is copywritten and registered with both the LOC and WGA...so I'm giving the world NOTICE: STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT THE LACK OF QUALITY BLACK PROJECTS AND SUPPORT A LEGIT SUPERHERO FRANCHISE! Oh...and the fax...IS INTERACTIVE! Stop Playin'!

www.tdvISdivablue.com

TDV's Secret Code of the Day! 9/23/2011

2011-09-23T17:32:00.000-07:00

HINT: One of my greatest accomplishments!! Scan with your phone to find out what!

TDV's Secret Code of the Day! 9/19/2011

2011-09-19T10:53:00.000-07:00

HINT: Warren Sapp and Sinbad both commented and retweeted this on Twitter. My next is coming tomorrow...after tonight's game!

TDV's Secret Code of the Day 9/17/2011

2011-09-17T10:06:00.000-07:00

TDV's Secret Code of the Day!! 9/17/2011 HINT: If you love good soul/r&b slow jams, this is gonna feel REAL good to you!! (Love you John H Gordon and Nate Smith!!) ;-)
ENJOY!

TDV's Secret Code of the Day 9/16/2011

2011-09-16T13:43:00.000-07:00

9/11/2001: I Was...

2011-09-10T21:27:00.000-07:00

Charlottesville, Virginia.

8:45am

I was leaving for work at UVA. I collapsed the ironing board, rather quickly, and it caught and cut my right index finger. Looking at my bleeding finger, I thought, "Damn, this is gonna be a bad day." I turned off the tv (the "Today" show was on) and walked out the door. This was 8:45am Sept. 11, 2001.

8:46am

I got in my car. When I started the car, the radio came on and this was the first I'd heard of the first plane hitting the Towers.

9:03am

As I got closer to Grounds, the radio announcer started yelling, "Another one hit! Another just hit!" I damn

near wrecked my car. The guy's yelling and panic in his voice COMPLETELY startled and shook me. We were under attack. I walked into the my office at the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities. We had a 9:30 staff meeting.

9:45am

Robert Vaughan, Executive Director of the VFH, walked in late and carrying a worn look about him, "Another one has hit the Pentagon."

10:30am

By the time the meeting was over, campus was closing...and the Towers had fallen. Someone said as we were leaving, "They're gone."

Sept. 11, 2011

Now.

And as on my heart and mind, I still have a scar on my right index finger.

"Genesis" Collector Kids' Champion Lace Up - Exclusive "Genesis" Shoe by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T20:23:00.000-07:00

Kids' Champion Lace Up - Exclusive "Genesis" Shoe by DivaBlue
custom made sneakers by zazzle.com

"Genesis" Collector PRO-Keds Royal Hi - EXCLUSIVE "Genesis" Shoe. by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T20:21:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Hi - EXCLUSIVE "Genesis" Shoe. by DivaBlue
Browse more Genesis Shoes

"Genesis" PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Xavier's Shoe. by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T20:09:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Xavier's Shoe. by DivaBlue
See other Genesis Shoes

"Genesis" PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Xavier's Shoe White. by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T20:07:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Xavier's Shoe White. by DivaBlue
Make custom shoes at zazzle

"Genesis" PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Jordan's Shoe. by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T20:06:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Jordan's Shoe. by DivaBlue
Browse more Genesis Shoes

"Genesis" PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Jordan's Shoe White by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T20:04:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Jordan's Shoe White by DivaBlue
Design custom shoes at Zazzle

"Genesis" PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Quincey's Shoe White by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T20:02:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Quincey's Shoe White by DivaBlue
More Genesis Shoes

"Genesis" PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Quincey's Shoe by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T20:01:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Quincey's Shoe by DivaBlue
Browse Genesis Shoes

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Taige's Shoe White by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T18:42:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Taige's Shoe White by DivaBlue
See other Genesis Shoes

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Taige's Shoe. by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T18:30:00.001-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Taige's Shoe. by DivaBlue
See more Genesis Shoes

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Xander's Shoe. by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T18:27:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Xander's Shoe. by DivaBlue
Make a custom made shoe at zazzle.com

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Xander's Shoe white by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T18:25:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - Xander's Shoe white by DivaBlue
Browse other Genesis Shoes

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Esau's Shoe by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T18:12:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Esau's Shoe by DivaBlue
View other Genesis Shoes

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Rachel's Shoe by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T18:11:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Rachel's Shoe by DivaBlue
See more Genesis Shoes

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Lalo's Shoe by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T17:48:00.001-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Lalo's Shoe by DivaBlue
Make customize your own shoe at zazzle

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Slick's Shoe by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T17:46:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Slick's Shoe by DivaBlue
Browse other Genesis Shoes

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Azure's Shoe by DivaBlue

2011-08-30T17:44:00.000-07:00

PRO-Keds Royal Lo - VILLAIN EDITION: Azure's Shoe by DivaBlue
See other Genesis Shoes

"Genesis" Ladies Spaghetti Top - Xander's Logo Shirt from Zazzle.com

2011-08-30T14:43:00.000-07:00

"Genesis" Ladies Spaghetti Top - Xander's Logo by DivaBlue
Browse zazzle for a different shirtzazzle

"Genesis" Ladies Spaghetti Top - Xander's Logo Shirt from Zazzle.com

Film Producers TDV and Rob Hamilton discuss use of Blackberry Playbook in “Genesis” Film (Video)

2011-08-24T23:48:00.000-07:00

Film Producers TDV and Rob Hamilton discuss use of Blackberry Playbook in “Genesis” Film (Video)

Which "Soul Train" Theme is YOUR Favorite?!

2011-08-18T18:17:00.000-07:00

Growing up on "Soul Train" is just as American as the Bandstand herself! The artists, the dancers, the host...all play a defining role in my childhood...in my life. In the late 70's and throughout the 80's, "Soul Train" showed me my first glimpse of Black entrepreneurship. I'm taking a short "Genesis" break, to ask the question: Which of the "Soul Train" themes was YOUR favorite?

My personal top 5 rankings (Actually it's 4 because 1 is shared...and nothing after 1993 is real to me! LOL!!):

4.) 1976: The Soul Train Gang - Yeah, a distant third as a favorite but because I have a faint memory of the song from when I was a toddler, this I'm ranking as #4.

3.) 1987-1993: The Sound of Philadelphia (remixed by George Duke) - This version of the "Soul Train" theme is the soundtrack of my high school and undergrad days. You HAD to watch "Soul Train" to try to be fly at the parties and dances! And besides, I was NOT even tryin' to miss New Edition or Five Star...so STOP PLAYIN'!!

2.) 1973: The Sound of Philadelphia - Despite being but 1 year old when this song was the actual theme of "Soul Train", this cut is arguably one of the most iconic sounds/songs in Black American pop culture. MAN!!! For me, THIS song is the defining sound of the party that WAS "Soul Train"!! I have this song on my iPod and play it on the treadmill at the gym or when I'm walking. Man...shoot...wherever you're goin', you're gonna get there...and a little out of breath!

1.)1983: O'Bryan - WHEN YOU HEARD THE OPENING KEYS ON THIS...SHUT EVERY THANG DOWN!! This is what "Soul Train" sounds like to me. My memory of a GOOD Saturday morning included hearing this theme song at 2pm on Channel 8 out of Richmond, Virginia and at 5pm on Channel 5 out of Washington, DC! If you missed the 2pm show, you had the 5pm show! AND DON'T MISS IT TOO!! And seein' that light skinned dude (light skinned was IN during this time! You WANTED to be a member of DeBarge, but you knew you weren't light enough to be family!) with the big flat hat and the chick with the crazy long hair...it was time to hop aboard the hippest trip in America!

1.a) 1984...the remixed version of the 1983 theme...has a little more pump to it, but doesn't have the opening keys...but a jam nonetheless!!

1971

1973

1975

1976

1979

1980

1983

1984

1987 - 1993

1993-2000

2000 - 2006

"Genesis" and "The Box 69" in Bermuda!

2011-08-04T11:10:00.000-07:00

Hey there everyone!! Want to share with you the location for "The Box 69" book signing and the "Genesis" meet and greet! 64º in Southampton, Bermuda!! Click on the http://www.bermudasbestrestaurants.com/64.htm and take a look at the beautiful setting for our celebration!!...or just come with us!!

TDV

"One Pebble At A Time Moves A Mountain!"

2011-08-02T19:21:00.001-07:00

I'm not playing "Deal or No Deal" with "all or nothing" Kickstarter. I'm not gonna IndieGoGo. I'm going to make "Genesis". I am going to introduce the world to a new team of American Superheroes and I'm asking for your help! This page is the welcome mat to the film franchise "Genesis".

There are THREE ways you can support the funding of this film:

1.) You can make a donation right here, right now! Click the link below, make a contribution, and based on your level of giving, we will send you a thank you gift.

http://divablueblog.blogspot.com/p/every-penny-is-pebble-become-investor.html

2.) Purchase products from our online merchandise and apparel store at www.zazzle.com/divablue.

3.) Purchase "The Box 69" Coffee Table Book at http://www.blurb.com/user/store/divablue.

Our "Genesis" Donation Page is NOW UP AND RUNNING!!

2011-08-02T19:02:00.000-07:00

Hey Everyone!!! Our "Genesis" Donation Page is NOW UP AND RUNNING!!!

If you'd like to make a contribution to this film, please click this link!!

http://divablueblog.blogspot.com/p/every-penny-is-pebble-become-investor.html

THANK YOU!!!

Every Penny is A Pebble. Every Pebble, Together, Forms the Mountain! We are going to move this Mountain, ONE PEBBLE AT A TIME!

NEW "Genesis" Merch Store Flash Panel!!!

2011-08-02T18:50:00.000-07:00

Create a personalized gift at Zazzle.

The Box 69: BLUE A Photographic Chronicle in Verse, Song, and Crayons.

2011-07-01T13:08:00.000-07:00

Taking 10 colors from The Box 69: A Photo Blog Series, the BLUE book highlights some of the COOL, BLUESY pieces of the collection! This book features: BLUE, TURQUOISE BLUE, AQUAMARINE, MIDNIGHT BLUE, CORNFLOWER, CADET BLUE, INDIGO, DENIM, PACIFIC BLUE, SKY BLUE and DIVA BLUE!! Collect all 7 Mini Books...or get the COMPLETE collection!!

Prices:

Softcover: $27.95

Hardcover (Dust Jacket): $50.95

Hardcover (Image Wrap) $58.95

The Box 69: BLUE A Photographic Chronicle in Verse, Song, and Crayons. by Diva Blue Publications | Make Your Own Book

The Box 69: PURPLE A Photographic Chronicle in Verse, Song, and Crayons.

2011-07-01T13:01:00.000-07:00

Taking 10 colors from The Box 69: A Photo Blog Series, the PURPLE book highlights some of the REGAL and ROYAL pieces of the collection! This book features: PERIWINKLE, RED VIOLET, MULBERRY, MAGENTA, JAZZBERRY JAM, PLUM, PURPLE HEART, ROYAL PURPLE, VIVID VIOLET and WILD STRAWBERRY!! Collect all 7 Mini Books...or get the COMPLETE collection!!

Prices:

Softcover: $27.95

Hardcover (Dust Jacket): $50.95

Hardcover (Image Wrap) $58.95

The Box 69: PURPLE A Photographic Chronicle in Verse, Song, and Crayons. by Diva Blue Publications | Make Your Own Book

The Box 69: CHESTNUT

2011-04-22T13:11:00.000-07:00

#70
Color: CHESTNUT
April 22, 2011
Song: "Bridge Over Troubled Water" Aretha Franklin

For Spencer Beglarian, friend and colleague...
Rest well my love...
April 19, 2011

Dark deep
Steeped long over heat
And thick.
This is my friend's love
And daily greeting.
Strong
Bold
Awake.
You can't drink it.
You sip it.
Cut it.
Better to take it in smaller doses and enjoy longer
It's a robust concentrate
You must have everyday
Because he has it waiting
Lovingly.
He can make cheap Folger of Ohio
Smell like deep import of Colombia
But that is his gift.
Spence spins the everyday
Mundane
Into beauty
And deliciousness.
A teacher
A mentor
A friend
A gentle giant
And a DAZZLING black woman/white man combo of joy!
An inspiration to anyone who savored delight in his presence.

Bad coffee
I won't drink it
But I wish he was here to make it.

The Box 69: DIVA BLUE

2011-04-09T22:36:00.000-07:00

#69
Color: DIVA BLUE
April 8, 2011
Song: "Diva" Beyonce

MONDAY:
I woke up this morning.
I greeted myself with a Sunglow warm
"Good Morning"
And reminded myself
To continue to live in passion
And not fear...
To embrace challenge
To relinquish regret.
Do not allow myself to be punished
For the mistake of others
And to love
Like there was never hurt.
I woke UP this morning.

TUESDAY:
I woke UP this morning.
And said
Man, you gotta thank the people who love you.
It's not always given
Freely
Or easily.
You gotta thank the people who love you
For it comforts you in your loneliness and quiet.
You gotta thank the people who love you
Because food is for the body,
Love is for the spirit.
You gotta thank the people who love you
Because when you close them eyes at night,
Your dreams are cast with those people.
You gotta thank the people who love you
Because we respond to positive reinforcement and gratitude...
And it encourages us to keep giving.
You gotta thank the people who love you
Because there are plenty of people who don't.
You gotta thank the people who love you
Because, well sh!t, it's polite.
And I woke UP this morning.

WEDNESDAY:
I woke UP this morning.
I savored a strawberry for breakfast.
I danced in a waterfall for lunch.
Still flying without a net
I laid myself out for my lover to feast
Floating on love by candlelight
And for that,
I woke UP this morning.

THURSDAY:
I woke UP this morning.
I caught truth like a butterfly
And whispered
It's not you.
It's me.
It's not you who loves me endlessly.
It's me.
It's not you who celebrates my romantic heart
It's me.
It's not you who leaves me empty.
It's me.
It's not you who causes my pain.
It's me.
It's not you I choose to love.
It's me.
Every day I must choose me
In order to choose you.
And if you can not choose me.
I can not choose you.
Despite how much I want to.
We all deserve what we want.
But if you participate in what you don't want,
You deserve what you get.
And as not to deprive myself of the love I deserve,
I woke UP this morning.

FRIDAY:
I woke UP this morning.
My journal DEMANDED I hold myself accountable
For my own actions
And my own choices.
My failings are simply my trials.
My successes are merely taunts to see if I can repeat them.
Neither need me lingerin' too long on them.
I looked at what I wrote
And realized I needed to challenge myself
To be a better me.
I woke UP this morning.

SATURDAY:
I woke UP this morning.
Holdin' a yard sale
On the emotional clutter
The blessin' blockers
The insecure, fearful no risk takin' single sock bin
Cause NOTHING matches mess!
I have no regrets...at all.
I put myself out there...
My art...
My passion...
My love.
I can control if I give it,
So I give it
Willingly,
Freely
And fiercely.
I can NOT control if I get it back,
So I can't worry
About your worries
About reciprocity,
Exposure,
And vulnerability.
I can't carry your fear.
It's too heavy.
It gets in the way of my day.
And if someone else wants it
They can have it
For free!
From me.
Make it free of me.
EVERYTHING MUST GO!
I woke UP this morning.

SUNDAY:
I woke UP this morning.
I thanked the Lord for all the days before and all the days to come.
And I reminded myself
of my mantra
out of my last week
and into my new week:
"My creative and entrepreneurial success exist in
My Hunger: My fearless passion to succeed despite the prospect of failure;
My Hustle: My restless efforts to achieve my goals through networking and moving mountains, one pebble at a time;
and
My Hallelujah: Maintaining faith and giving praise for knowing I am ALWAYS assisted and NEVER alone. I am living a celebrated life.
I have heroes
Super, as they are...
And they are waiting on me
They are not waiting on the world of 'theys' and 'thems'
They are waiting on me
To step up
And deliver them properly!
I have the key.
I have to turn it
And press the gas.
I woke UP this morning.

MONDAY:
I woke UP this morning.
Opened my eyes.
Laying on my stomach
I look over at possibilities
And the rainbow
Next to the bed.
I rolled my fingers over the crayons next to the bed
And smiled at Tickle Me Pink
And Cotton Candy's sweetness.
I pulled the pillow closer to my chin
Like a lover's shoulder
I smiled at the memory of a Cerulean blues night
Sat up into my Sunglow morning
And I,
With a deep calming sigh
And a sure,
Resounding voice,
Greeted the Diva
"Good morning."

Starting from the top...

The Box 69: TWIN COLORS: BLUE GREEN AND GREEN BLUE

2011-04-09T22:29:00.000-07:00

#68
Color: TWIN COLORS: BLUE GREEN AND GREEN BLUE
April 8, 2011
Song: "Just The Two Of Us" Grover Washington, Jr. feat. Bill WIthers

The love of a Gemini...

Can you please clone yourself
So I can fall in love?
Can you make yourself in two
So I can have one too?

Twin Alone.
Two halves of a whole
Gemini being
Ménage à trois with me
Both of me can be your focus
Double my pleasure
Double your fun
It's tricky busy stuff
Being with a twin of one
Traversing my spilt personality mine field
Loving me is an adventure
A wild ride
Not knowing who will greet you at my door
I'm a May baby
But you won't get no bull with me
My twin self is my balance
My twin self is my comfort
Sure, impatient...
Ok, indecisive
Alright, moody as hell
But...
Resilient
Quick to recover from a fall
Cushioned by the other.
I'm never alone.
I'm never lonely.
Being ok in my own skin is easier when I have company
A partner who has my back
We tag team life
We battle arm and arm
In times of trouble
Geminis are special beings
Being two lives in one
Both the moon and the sun
Together.

The Box 69: SKY BLUE

2011-04-09T22:13:00.000-07:00

#67
Color: Sky Blue
July 27, 2001
Song: "Butterflies Kisses" Goapele

I don’t feel like talking anymore.
I don’t feel like speaking words
Made for misunderstanding
Misuse
Misinterpretation.
I don’t feel like saying sweet things
To make you feel sweet.
I don’t feel like it.
I don’t feel like doing anything
But sensing you
With my senses.
No thinking
Just feeling.
Don’t feel like doing anything else.
Don’t feel like saying
I love you.
Sound ain’t forever.
Feeling love is forever.
You won’t remember
What I sounded like
When I said it
But
You will remember
What it felt like.
When you felt it…
If you felt it…
And
I have a feeling you did.

And still I lay here
Wanting to write
Something profound
Something so delicious
It squirts in my mouth
Full taste
Full touch
On my tongue
Replacing words
Not fit for the moment
And it is her they wish they could describe.
Words envious of her being
Being no way used to her being.
She is reduced
And magnified
To a sound
A simple vibration
That is felt
And heard
No words
No room for pretentious education
In the form of
Useless vocabulary of the clever
And lonely

The loved needs no degree
No diploma
No certificate
Of approval
Of acceptance
Need no validation
No recommendation
No words are even in this poem.

The Box 69: SPRING GREEN

2011-04-09T22:01:00.000-07:00

#66
Color: Spring Green
April 8, 2011
Song: "Anytime Anyplace" Janet Jackson

Farm Queens and Mountain Women
For my sweet friend, Carla (Carlita Josephina) Houser!

Wild and loose and free
Fall 1993.
Across the room
Beneath a dim light
I saw nothing but shadows
Except her.
This Farm Queen smiled
Illuminating the Mountain Woman's darkness.
While everything around us was dying
Turning shades of burnt orange
And vivid violet
In death,
She gave me spring green
Life and Love.

Bitter cold
Winter 1993
The wind blows blizzard.
Face freezes up
Cracks up
And falls off
Running from Gibbons to the library.
It's too cold to linger
And yet
The Farm Queen and the Mountain Woman walked
Strolled
All the way to Anthony Seeger
From Mrs Greens in Chandler
Just to have longer with each other
Branches barely hold from the ice and snow
But love is budding bold in spring green.

Time to leave
And leaves arrive
Spring 1994
My time in the valley was nearing an end
She nearing the end of the beginning again.
The Mountain Woman was Cali bound.
The Farm Queen Holding close
Not to let go
Yet.
Love was being tested
Will it hold in the spring rains
Of distance and parting.
Spring green love is born of rain
And grows.

Breeze is no ease.
Summer 1994
She is coming my way
West.
The Farm Queen packed light
Bringing only
The scent of honey sickles
And fresh cut grass
And a curiosity larger than the city limits of home.
Angels brings temptations
And the queen's spring green
Wilts a bit in the sun.

The seasons continued on
The love flourished and thrived
Survived
All the harsh winters
All the dying falls
And the simmering summers.
It is the return of spring
The rebirth of the earth
That reminds the Mountain Woman and her Farm Queen
Of their
Reinvented
Reimagined
And undying
Love.

Not ever the end
But always a beginning
again.

The Box 69: WILD STRAWBERRY

2011-04-09T21:53:00.000-07:00

#65
Color: Wild Strawberry
August 6, 2001
Song: "Juicy Fruit" Mtume

The First Time

The first time,
it tasted like
strawberries.
I thought,
“Oh my goodness, it taste like strawberries!
I like this!
It taste like strawberries!”
Imagine my disappointment
when I discovered
I had been
misled.

The Box 69: VIVID VIOLET

2011-04-05T12:39:00.000-07:00

#64
Color: Vivid Violet
November 2, 2000
Song: "Lady In My Life" Michael Jackson

From Sao Paulo…Good Night

In the Sao Paulo sky
I see a star
Resting over my home.

There waits a woman
Who longs for a different light
Still beauty on sight
I can see her in my blindness
And desire to be with her.

Making blue into light
Is love into destiny
By her I see
Forever azure
And indigo
And pearls
Shades of happiness.
She is sweetness
Held over in the shell of bitterness
Held hurt in a cup for sipping
She drinks fully all her own.
Time to kiss
With the coolness
Of her wet tongue.
I feel her glide
On my back
And breast
And nipple
And sensitive all points are to the touch.

Her smell calls me to feast
And she is the table of abundance
And dance
From feet
To knee
To thigh
To hip
To stomach
To ache
And throb
From her heart
And temple
To tomb
In her womb
Is warmth
In her breathe
And her sigh
When she is high
And ready
My hand steady
And slide
Appear and hide
In her love
And then the top cums
And fades in her sleep
Through the night
And fades into day
The morning
The star is away
But the love says she is there.
I long to see her there
But the star keeps her
Until I return to her.
From Sao Paulo I can see her
And say
Good Night.

The Box 69: GRAY

2011-04-05T12:30:00.000-07:00

#63
Color: Gray
December 5, 1998
Song: "The Star Spangled Banner" Marvin Gaye

Alaskan Heat

Vinegar Hill is
Black
White
Shades of gray.

Businesses:
Black
White
And shades of gray.

Homes:
Black
White
And shades of gray.

The sky, the street, all the buildings:
Black
White
And shadows of gray.

The snow on the grass.
The slush on the side of the street.
Mix in looking like Italian Ice gone wrong.
The man passing me with steps for a particular destination…
The stride of determination
The man who mistook integration
For desegregation
The poster child for assimilation
“Brother can you spare a dime?”
Black
White,
Spades of gray.

Vinegar Hill…
I love Vinegar Hill.
The sweetest place
With a sour taste…
But still the sweetest place on earth
And everybody knows it.
If you ain’t in church,
A barber shop,
A pool hall,
Movie house,
Local grocery,
The drug store,
Or just plain ole at home,
You ain’t nowhere
but here with me.

“Sister, can you spare a quarter?
Sister, you just got out of church,
Don’t let your conscience rot that quick .
That ain’t the Christian way.
You better go back in there
And find somebody…”

Black
White…
“oh thank you for the quarter sister…”
And shades of gray.

Stand at the end of the street
And look all the way down…
At the top of Vinegar Hill
And see
The black,
The white,
And the gray.
The gray is taking over…
Swallowing up the whole hill
Except me.
Black
White
And mainly shades of gray
Except me
And my bottle of whiskey.
Soft and brown…
Brick red…
That’s the color I liked in the 64 box.
Warm…hot…
Burning…
Waiting to put color back in me
And me back in color
So I can be seen again…
On Vinegar Hill.

Standing on top of Vinegar Hill
Is standing on top of world.
Crack open the bottle.
Up to my lips.
The cold in the wind
And the lick of my tongue
Has caused the chap of my lips
And its burning.
My gums burning.
My tongue on down my throat
On past and beyond.
I even felt my stuff tighten up
And a river of veins
Pop up on my forehead.
Damn that feels good.
The color is in me
And I feel it.
The steam of it is coming out of me
And rising off of me.
It feels good…
So damn good…
For now.

The Box 69: ROYAL PURPLE

2011-04-01T23:54:00.000-07:00

#62
Color: Royal Purple
April 1, 2011
Song: "A Song For You" Donny Hathaway

For my Renaissance Brotha, John H. Gordon

Kings are found in different forms.
Mine found me
In my college dorm.
First day
Freshmen year
At the school of purple and gold.
Chill
Cool
Big smile
Sittin' on my bed
When I walk into my room.
I returned the favor...
Later...
And he still won't let me forget.

Kings lead.
Subjects follow.
Adore
Admire
This king
Sings to his kingdom
And we bask in the beauty of his lullaby.
We celebrate the power of his voice.
We love this leader of love
And listen.

My friend,
Is a king...
This deacon of funk.
I fell in love
With my friend
This king...
When he stood in my freshmen dorm
And said,
"Hi"...
When he stood in my living room
And said,
"Me too."...
When he grabbed me by my pants
On the three story escalators
In the world trade center
And save my life...
When he carried
My drunk ass
From the village to Newark...NEW JERSEY
When he sat in the car,
Steaming
Because he didn't...
And I did.
When every time my heart broke
His voice healed.

This king,
Often among queens,
My renaissance brotha,
Moves me
To create...
Inspires me
To be bold...
To live my life
Amplified and mic'ed up.
We are loud
And we love it.
Rainbows bend over us
Resounding triangles chimes delight
When he sings...
When he laughs...
When he smiles.
My friend
Is a king...
And i will follow his voice...
His love...
Anywhere.

The Box 69: RED ORANGE AND ORANGE RED

2011-04-01T23:50:00.000-07:00

#61
Color: Red Orange and Orange Red
March 24, 2001
Song: "Fire & Desire" Rick James and Teena Marie

I did something pretty mean to that ant.

I put a spot of honey on the floor.
In the center of the honey spot
I put a dot
of hot sauce.
Oh, the surprise when the ant,
enjoying the sweetness of the honey,
creeps in to find the hot agony
embedded in the middle.
Cutting through the sweet outer shell
to find the trick
and true.
This is love.
It always come to this.
Always.

The Box 69: SCARLET

2011-04-01T23:46:00.000-07:00

#60
Color: Scarlet
October 19, 2008
Song: "Come Back To Bed" Nate Smith feat. John Gordon

Good morning my one and only.
I woke up reaching for you
and you were already gone.
Why leave me so early?
Why move so fast away from me?
Why leave just your memory
and take the rest of you
with you?
Here's the thing about you being my one and only...
when you leave,
I am one...
and lonely.
Come back to bed.

SN: Nate and John are two, long time friends of mine and I want to thank them for letting me use "Come Back To Bed". If you love this song, and I KNOW you do, PLEASE support both of these artists...get BOTH of their albums, available on iTunes.

Nate Smith's "Workday, Waterbaby Music, Vol. 1.0 on iTunes (http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/workday-waterbaby-music-vol/id278370889)

John Gordon's "Soul.Funk.Drunk.Love" on iTunes (http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/soul-funk-drunk-love/id356543795)

THANK YOU!!

The Box 69: TROPICAL RAIN FOREST

2011-04-01T23:43:00.000-07:00

#59
Color: Tropical Rain Forest
November 2, 2000
Song: "Mas Que Nada" Sergio Mendes feat. The Black Eyed Peas

Cool Brazilian Nights Don’t Hurt Nobody
Sao Paulo, Brazil

Cool Brazilian nights don’t hurt nobody.
A cool night
Departed from a hot day
Leaves nothing but sheer delight
In life
So mine
It can not be denied.

Black is the night that is cool
That is soothing
That is the beginning
As the clock resets the day at midnight.
When love is made so soft
And wet
And good
As night in Brazil.
It’s the salty steam of pleasure
That lets me sleep peacefully
In a troubled world dripped with tears
And cries of sorrow
And regret.
There is none when night falls on Brazil
For the American
Who knows no better.
In the moment
It is the joy of life
Not to be saved.
Remembered
And re-lived
In another moment
In the arms of a Brazilian other
Who wants to know the pleasure too.

Black is the night
And cool is the breath of her body
And soothe my heat
She brings.
Good night.
Boa noite
With a kiss.

Cool Brazilian nights don’t hurt nobody.

The Box 69: PACIFIC BLUE

2011-04-01T23:38:00.000-07:00

#58
Color: Pacific Blue
March 31, 2011
Song: "Home" Stephanie Mills

Everything's working as planned.
Everything is as it should be.
Life's funny that way...
Missteps corrected,
Correct steps aligned
On the path
And illuminated.

The plan hasn't changed...
It just changed locations.

February 15,
I left Los Angeles
But not for Atlanta...
As planned...
But for Catalina Island...
As needed.
I originally thought
A new start
Rested in 30102
But it's still in 91406.
I listened to my heart.
I looked at my blessings.
I returned to LA
From the small island
About a hour's boat ride off California's coast.
I returned
Clear
New
And moved home.
The home I made my own.

February 11
The bittersweet mahogany blues
On repeat
Ended
As planned
On time
Love's expiration date came
Clean
Quick
And with an echo.
Amplified in an underground resonator
The truth had a boom to it
The end had the thump and bass
In the bottom of the rooftop
Red Violet's band unplugged
Packed up their passion.
The limited engagement was over.
Another gig awaits.
They played a lovely set.
Full body sultry groove...
Fade out...
I lifted the skipping needles
Let the silence fill the void
And embraced the calm solitude.

February 22
I was due to arrive in Atlanta.
Instead,
On February 22,
I began a new semester
At the school where I have taught for the last 5 and a half years...
The place where 11 days earlier on Febraury 11,
I was scheduled to resign.
Leave behind the babies
and find new loves.
The hallways full of glee
I could live with...
The leaving love...
I couldn't.
I didn't.
Two ones became two twos
And I am still
Home.

The Box 69: PURPLE HEART

2011-04-01T23:19:00.000-07:00

#57
Color: Purple Heart
July 7, 2001
Song: "Ordinary Pain" Stevie Wonder

Tea

My tears brew my tea
To a dark natural sweetness.
In my favorite mug
From a long ago love
For whom
I’ve had enough tea.

I want something else to drink.
Smooth
Less bitter
No matter how sweet.
There is
no lemon
no mint
no spice
to make me tingle.
Recycled tea
Drink and brew.
Drink and brew.
Want to drink something new.

Maybe something carbonated
Bubbly
Fuzzy
Tiggle my nose.
Fun and exciting
Playing wild in summer.

Maybe something intoxicating
Takes me
Drinks me back
Straight
In a fancy glass.
Strong on the way down
But brings me high.

However,
I enjoy tea from
Time to time
But it’s all I seem to drink these days.
I don’t want any more tea.
Don’t want no more tea.
It’s a lonely drink.

Don’t understand why the English love this shit.
Drink it every damn day!
The Asians have the right idea…
Small cups.
Sip
Taste
Savor the body
And boldness
Of the brew.

So damn arrogant!
We drink the shit by the mugful!
We find the largest bowl
Fill it with our sorrows
Stare at ourselves
In our personal reflecting pools
In the tea puddle
In our warm hands.

Self brew.
No sun.
No ice.
No sugar
Or honey
Or anything that makes it
Pleasant.
Just my own blend of tea.

So...
I go
Ahead
And have more tea.
Can be soothing.
Can be comforting
Can be hot
Can burn.
Can be ice cold
And bitter
Or sweet
Refreshing.
I keeping tasting.
Sipping love...
Is of my own doing.

The Box 69: ORANGE

2011-03-25T17:20:00.000-07:00

#56
Color: Orange
March 17, 1996
Song: "Just My Imagination" The Temptations

My Angel From Yesterday’s Heaven

You were a hallucination
A figment of my imagination
I thought you were real
As soon as I started to believe in you
You disappeared.
My hallucination
My imagination
My infatuation
My Angel from Yesterday’s Heaven.

The Box 69: BURNT ORANGE

2011-03-25T17:17:00.000-07:00

#55
Color: Burnt Orange
December 12, 2010
Song: "Turn Off The Lights" Teddy Pendergrass

What you're lookin' for...
What I'm lookin' for...
What we're lookin' for...
Sometimes it's packed away
Other times on it's on display
On a mantle by the fireplace
Keeping warm
Getting hot
Whether a fire is burning...
Or not.

The Box 69: PLUM

2011-03-22T01:08:00.000-07:00

#54
Color: Plum
June 28, 2010
Song: "Oops (Oh My)" Tweet feat. Missy Elliott

A Night Out (***Contains STRONG Language...I'm just sayin'***)

(Slightly surprised)
Aw Sh!t!
Look at how fine she is.
Makes me wanna do
Stuff
To her.
(Quickly)
Aw Sh!t!
She catches my gaze
I get stuck lookin'!
(Paralyzied)
Aww Sh!t...
But I can't turn away
And she smiles...
(Lost in her smile)
Aw Shhh!t...
Her smile...
(Busted)
Aw Sh!t.
My girl catches the smile too
(DOG HOUSE BUSTED)
Aw Sh!t!
And tracks it back
To me.
(Tryin' to play it off)
"Aw Sh!t,
Baby..."
And then she hits me
With an
(PISSED)
(Oh...and LOUD)
"Awwwwww Sh!t,
I KNOW you're not lookin' at THAT
When you've got this
ALL THIS
Standing right here
In front of you!"
(Embarrassed)
Aww Sh!t.
And while she's fittna go off
I can't help but scan the room and
(NIGGA, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!)
Aww Sh!t!
I look at her again
"By accident, baby!"
(Just give up...)
Aww Sh!t...
She ain't buyin' it.
My lady reminds me
New pussy
Can't do sh!t
For me.
And then...
(Confused)
Aww Sh!t...
My lady wanna step closer and...
(Scared)
Aww Sh!t...
And stake her claim...and...
(REALLY SCARED)
Awwwwwww Sh!t...
And let this WHOLE room know
I'm hers...and...
(Mystified)
Aww Sh!t?
Is my woman REALLY gonna kiss me
In front of EVERYBODY
Like she DIDN'T just come out
To her mama
And her auntie
A couple months ago?
(Fixed on my lady's lip)
Aww Sh!t...
Everybody's lookin'
(Whispers)
"Awwwww Sh!t..."
Fuck 'em.
(Melting)
Aww Sh!t
This is good.
(Inpressed)
Aww Sh!t.
That was nice.
(In Love)
Aww Sh!t.
I want another
From my lady.
But THAT lady
Is STILL lookin'
At me.
(...*********...)
Aww Sh!t.

The Box 69: FUZZY WUZZY

2011-03-21T00:10:00.000-07:00

#53
Color: Fuzzy Wuzzy
March 20, 2011
Song: "I Am Not My Hair" India.Aire feat. Akon

Things I usually hear after a new hair cut clean:

"Oh...you MUST be from the EAST coast. I don't see too many West coast women doing...that."
- Guys who think they know ALL West coast women.

"Sir...?"
- Oh...and it won't matter that I'm wearing large hoop earrings and rockin' a 40 DD!

"Why?"
- Typically from Mom...lol...but always with love...and a chuckle.

"What did you DO to your hair?"
- I usually want to respond, "What did YOU do to yours?!"

"Can I touch it?"
- White women at the club.

"Can I rub it?"
- Black women at the club.

"Well, at least you have a good head for that..."
- Women WANTING to make a change but afraid...too worried they may have, in their own opinion, an odd shaped head...or a hook...or something.

"Don't you miss your hair?"
- My reply is usually, "It's just hair. It'll grow back." If they rebut, and they usually do, "What if it doesn't?" Then I follow, "Well then, I guess I'm happy. No more trips to the barber FOR THE SAME LOOK I CHOSE TO HAVE!"

Buzz of the clipper
Take away
History catch kink
Wipe the slate clean
And start again
I can't be weighted down
At the top
From the top
With bad choice
Wrong voices
And ill taken turns
I have to wash it away
Let the strays fall
Into the drain
And start again
For me
Again.

I'm not locked to my locks.
I'm not locked to my look.
I'm not locked to your look.
I'm not locked to locked ideas of beauty.
I am free to do me...clean.

And yes, I have a great head
for this...
and everything else I choose.

The Box 69: GREEN

2011-03-20T09:37:00.000-07:00

#52
Color: Green
March 19, 2011
Song: "Nobody's Suppose to Be Here" Deborah Cox
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H947PtHmh0Y

You're not suppose to be here.
You don't give up
You don't release your hold
You grab closer
You grab tighter
Without even touching me
Anymore.
Boundaries set
Fences up
Gate closed
No trespassing passed
And in again.
Smoke screen memories
Of how it use to be
No longer serve my soul
No longer play a role
In my happiness.
Love has found
solid ground
to take root
and grow again.
No sharp edges
No hard places
And yet
Not softened in your warmth
Not weakened at your touch
Somehow free
and clear
to finally
enjoy the moment.
You are not suppose to be here
But since you are...

The Box 69: FERN

2011-03-19T16:07:00.000-07:00

#51
Color: Fern
March 19, 2011
Song: "You Are My Friend" Patti Labelle

For my sister, La'Shawn Capri Henderson-Dennis. My hero.

"Fern." she said.
"Fern?!" I replied.
Calmly, "Yes." she said.
"But FERN?!" I replied.
Same tone...sure,
"Yes. I want all my bridesmaids in Fern."
"Dang..." I thought.
"Ok..." I replied.
"It'll be pretty." she said.
"It's a plant." I replied.
"It's my wedding." she said.
Checkmate.

My sister, La'Shawn...is my hero. She's my go-to person for advice...for ALL my advice. She's got this sage-like wisdom that's quiet and sneaks up on you. She's charming and hard. Quick with a cut. The truth she gives isn't usually the truth you want to hear...but it's the truth you need...because it is the truth. I mean, this is the same person who told a complete stranger the truth I KNOW she didn't want to hear...but needed to hear. We were in a fast food drive thru line placing an order. La'Shawn was driving and had to speak into the intercom. The lady working was down right rude as she took our order. La'Shawn, being the cool person that she is, just said, "ummhmmmm..." more to herself and drove up to the pickup window. We pulled up to the window and La'Shawn looked the woman square in the face and said...in a very Claire Huxtable sort of way,
"If you don't like your job, quit."
We took our food and drove away...my mouth agape. TRUTH! I trust her in ways I don't think I can give to anyone else, because she's that clear and honest...despite how YOU may feel about it. In the end you're better for it.

Yes...my baby sis. La'Shawn is six years younger than me and for many years, I couldn't stand to have her followin' me around. But she was doing exactly what a little sister is SUPPOSE to do: Follow her big sister! And God bless her, she's got the battle scars to prove she was faithful. (Refer to "Forest Green"). I hated having to always babysit. I hated sharing a bed with Miss Kick-A-Lot! I hated having to share my things with her. But I loved her fiercely. I learned, everyday, something new to love about her.

Somewhere along the way, I became the follower. I became the admirer. I became the one who always wanted to be in her company. When I left home for college at 18, La'Shawn was 12. My first couple years away, I was busy "being in college" and didn't realize ole girl was growing up...was shaping her wisdom. In fall of 1993, my last year in college, La'Shawn asked if she could come stay with me for a weekend. I thought, "Sure...cool." This was also the year I accepted and embraced being a lesbian and it was time to come out. I told a couple of people at school first, my peers, with whom the stakes were high but certainly not as high as my family. I hadn't decided La'Shawn would be the first person in my family I would tell, she was 15 and still the little brat sister.

I drove the hour to Charlottesville, picked her up and came on back to Harrisonburg. In the drive over, I heard a woman's voice tell me about school, her friends, what was happening with the family. She was different...she was new to me. The next day, we hung out on campus, she met a few of my friends, who all thought she was cool and "mature for her age". She said she gets that a lot among her friends. She was the "mama" of her crew. I believed it. She hung with me, like my friend, all day. I felt an ease and decided I would tell her...that day.

We were standing in line at a Burger King near my place. There was a pretty long line and already knowing what I wanted, I had time to think about what I was going to say.
"Shawn...ummmm...I've got something to tell you...or tell everybody, I guess...but..." I said.
"Ok...well...what?" she asked.
"I'm...you know...hmmm..." I stammered.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked.
"I'm...well...ok...you know I haven't had a boyfriend in a little while now." I said
"Ummmhmmm, yeah, I know." she replied.
"Ok...well...that's because I'm g..." I started.
"Ok...you're gonna tell me you're gay? Oh girl, please...in my mind everyone is a little bit of something, there's just a little something more that makes us one way or the other." calmly, she said.

She then turned and said to the woman standing in from of us,
"Umm, yes, I'd like a whopper, fries, and a medium coke."
And that was it! Sure, we sat down and chatted some more about the whole issue, but it was more, "have you met someone?" "How do you feel?" "Have you told ma?" But there was no judgement. There was just...conversation. I was floored. I think I was less surprised at having told her and more in awe of who was sitting in front of me. I had a friend...and a sister. I had a SISTER! For the first time, she wasn't the six year younger kid who wore me out. She was my sister! She was the close woman friend I could call and be open and vulnerable. Everything changed.

La'Shawn visited more often and became one of my close friends in my last year of college. For graduate school, I moved 3000 miles to Long Beach, California, and suddenly, I was missing things again. One day, I received a phone call from my mom. She said,
"You're going to be an aunt...again."
My brother Chris, had a daughter, Timerra, already so I just assumed she was referring to him.
"Oh, ok. Chris has another on the way?" I asked.
"No..." she replied.
Now, my other two siblings, Michelle and Tyrone, are on my dad's side, I thought it would be odd for her to call me about them, seeing how my parents had been divorced for 20 years.
"La'Shawn's pregnant." she said.
"Hmmmmm...ok." I said.
La'Shawn was 17. My mom went on to say how she feared this would get in the way of her going to college. That having a child at this age would, essentially, ruin her chances of goal of becoming a pharmacist. Yes, honey, a pharmacist. La'Shawn knew in high school that she wanted to become a pharmacist. We had an aunt who worked at the University of Virginia Hospital and somewhere along the way, La'Shawn got wind of this need for pharmacists and how it would be a lucrative career choice if she pursued it. I'm sure there's a passion answer in there as well, but the money part rang clear in my ear when she told me she was going to be a pharmacist and that she wanted to go to college to pursue her PharmD (Doctorate of Pharmacy). All that seem to be just short of impossible with news of her pregnancy.

La'Shawn, however, had a different mind set. For her, nothing changed. She would just be a mother attending Hampton University...and after completing the six year program would be a pharmacist, sho nuff! Brilliant journey because, sure enough, the pharmacy industry changed where you had to hold a PharmD to be a pharmacist in the United States. With a limited number of colleges offering PharmD as a program, Walgreens reported they could hire EVERY graduating PharmD candidate in the nation that year and STILL need more. She struggled, as you could imagine, but she had a plan and she followed through. I watched that entire six years unfold, again, in awe. At Hampton's graduation in 2002, I watched my little sister cross the stage and become Dr. La'Shawn Henderson. She also graduated from being my little sister. She became my role model. She showed me no obsticle is ever an obsticle...just a test of your will and faith. She showed me one must hustle and press forward if a goal is ever worth winning.

La'Shawn is now a pharmacist in an Atlanta Walgreens. Cordasia Henderson is now 15. La'Shawn and her husband, Marcus, are expecting their third child together, a girl, due in July. Waiting for her, with La'Shawn, Marcus, and Cordasia, are my nephews, Loren (2) and Avery (1). I look at La'Shawn everyday, even from 3000 miles away, with so much respect and love. So often, when I run into a dilemma, I DO ask myself, "What would La'Shawn do?" because I KNOW she's have sound advice.

This woman is my hero. I love her so much. So much so, I wore a color I THOUGHT I couldn't stand, (FERN?! REALLY?) and stood by her on her wedding day. As always, I should have trusted her judgement, because we all looked amazing, but none more beautiful than my sister.

I love you, La'Shawn...and thank you.

(Side note: I REALLY wish I could sing. The song choice for this crayon and story, if I could, I'd sing it full out to La'Shawn.)

The Box 69: OUTER SPACE

2011-03-19T03:42:00.001-07:00

#50
Color: Outer Space
March 19, 2011
Song: "Saturn" Stevie Wonder

Welcome to Outer Space
Where the welcome mat floats
And joy washes over you in the door's threshold.
Enter worry weightless
Stress gravity free.
Ready to implode
Long overload
Busting at the seams
Room at last
To unpack my dreams.
Welcome.

Welcome to Outer Space
Cuz my inner space
Was feeling cramped.
Space to exercise my voice
Low
Long
Loud
Moan
Place to call my own.
Where I can be alone
And be me
With you
And you
One in the mirror.
Welcome.

Welcome to Outer Space
Where I can...
And do.
And will.
A place to
Get out of the bath
Stream draped
Put on a tank
Too short
Form fittin'
Pajama bottoms too big
Low hip hittin'
See you layin' across the bed
Doin' nothin'
But layin' there
Waitin' for me.
Welcome.

Welcome to Outer Space
Where no one will hear me scream
And call out your name
Come over
And reduce me
To all vowels
Leave my sigh to reach the depths of the Universe
Send me to the final frontier
Eyes closed
Wide open
On a round trip
Clockin' frequent flyer miles
To visit high
Again.
Welcome.

Welcome to Outer Space
Where the echos of love
Rest in the syncopation of my own foot fall
And the strum of my quiet guitar
And the beat of my own heart.
Welcome.

Welcome to Outer Space
Welcome home.

The Box 69: JUNGLE GREEN

2011-03-19T01:03:00.000-07:00

#49
Color: Jungle Green
July 4, 2007
Song: "Jungle Love" The Time

I've made several hikes since this story...including one where Amber walked up on a California Mountain Kingsnake! Goodness...

Solstice Canyons – July 3, 2007

I went on a morning hike with Amber and it was a lot of fun…until we spooked ourselves out!

We went to the canyons in Malibu with the hopes of making it to the waterfalls that entice people to visit this particular trail. Well, there were probably 5 cars in the parking lot. We began our hike and quickly realized we were alone…or so it felt. Eventually we encountered two other hikers, who were running…in the OPPOSITE direction! We figured they were runners exploring the trails. We journeyed on.

Ok…so the runners were still on our minds. We were getting higher and higher up the mountain…away from civilization. The mind tricks began. Every single crack of dry branch…every little rustle of leaves in the breeze…the smallest lizard running back into the grass from the giants walking the trail…every noise innocently resonating along the way scared the shit out of us! We stopped…abruptly stopped every 30 seconds at SOMETHING. Our various stops began to frighten each other,
"What you stop for?!"
"Why you lookin' in the bushes like that?!"
"What you see?!"
By this point, I'm winded. I'm bent over like an out of shape basketball player trying to catch their breath at the sides of the free throw line…gripping the bottom of my shorts at the knees. All I could think, "If something jumped out to get us, would I have the energy to run…to save my own damn life?!" I get my breath…we press on.

The paranoia simply grows. Every time I needed to pause, Amber would yell at me,
"You got to let a sistah know when you are going to stop!! I keep going, I look back, you ain't even there! I freak out and here you come bopping around the trail like everything is cool! If something get you, I'm going to think she's just back there tired!! Let me know when you stop!!!"
It became funny after a while…for just a little while.

The trail led us to this beautiful opening. On one side you see the ocean…on the other side mountains…no signs of greater Los Angeles. Beautiful seems so wrong to say…it was so much more. But here rest the problem: NO signs of greater Los Angeles! No people!! We could not shut the voices in our minds at all! We laughed at each other at first. We realized we were both thinking the same thing:
"If something jumped out to get us, there are only two of us and the car is too far away!!!"

We wanted to go further but just could not put to rest the visions from the movie "Prey" where the family wanting to experience the wilds of Africa became the PREY of the wilds of Africa! We turned and headed back towards the car…quickly. Our quick walk turned into an aggressive skip which progressed to a light jog which graduated to a 'we are REALLY trying to get the hell out of here' run!

We laughed hysterically...once we made it to the car, but there was a feeling of failure lingering over us. Why were we so easily spooked? What was it about the quiet or the subtle sounds of the outdoors that ignited our imaginations and inspired us to run out of our amazing surroundings? It evoked every comedy routine I've ever heard about black folks being too afraid to hang around when danger is remotely possible. Hell, we got up EARLY for this! All I could think was there were mountain cats and I ain't no fool!! Still not wanting to be so easily defeated we vowed we would try again…try again soon. We want to round up the troops first.

The Box 69: SCREAMIN' GREEN

2011-03-18T19:52:00.000-07:00

#48
Color: Screamin' Green
April 11, 2009
Song: "Welcome to the Terrordome" Public Enemy

IF YOU DIDN'T PUT IT DOWN, DON'T PICK IT UP!!!

Country Livin' Rule #2: If you didn't put it down, don't pick it up! I repeat!! IF YOU DIDN'T PUT IT DOWN, DON'T PICK IT UP!! Seems like this would be a no brainer. Seems like common sense would lead on this one. Naw…

(For Country Livin' Rule #1, refer to "Forest Green")

When I was in 12, I had a rubber black snake. It was one of those gag toys that you acquire, not really remembering where you got it or why you had it…but I did. My cousin, Yvette, a city girl for the most part, came out to visit. Yvette was 6. She had seen the rubber snake…played with it…wasn't nearly afraid of it. I mean, it was a rubber snake.

Well, we left the house and started walking up to the baseball diamond up the dirt road a bit. Yvette and my sister La'Shawn, also 6, began to trail behind my brother Chris and I continued ahead towards the baseball game up the road. I hear Yvette say,

"Terésa! You dropped your snake on the ground!"

Chris and I turned just in time to see Yvette reach down and pick up the black snake. For some strange and fortunate reason, Yvette knew to pick the snake up at the head, and thank goodness she did because no sooner than she had her little 6 year old hand around the snake's neck, the REAL snake coiled its body around her hand, wrist and up her arm to her bicep! That child's eyes got so big!! Oh my goodness…she started screamin' and took off runnin'! Do ya think she dropped the snake?! Hell no! She was steady runnin' TOWARDS us tryin' to get someone to help her take the snake off her arm! She's runnin' and screamin'…chokin' the snake. The snake's mouth was wide open because she had a death clutch on it! Now we're all runnin' FROM Yvette but yellin',

"Just drop it! Drop the snake and run!!! Just drop it!!! Stop playin' Yvette!! Just drop it!!"

Oh my goodness…we ran back to grandma's house. My grandma, Thelma, came runnin' outside. We went runnin' past her, screamin',

"Yvette chasin' us with a snake!"

She saw Yvette runnin', cryin'…no…screamin' about the snake that got her…WHEN SHE HAD THE SNAKE!! My grandma stopped her, quickly grabbed the snake from her hand by the head and tossed it in the bushes. I know that snake was so glad to see my grandma! I know we were! My grandma saved the SNAKE's life that day!

So…IF YOU DIDN'T PUT IT DOWN, DON'T PICK IT UP!!

The Box 69: VIOLET RED

2011-03-18T18:57:00.001-07:00

#47
Color: Violet Red
January 15, 2010
Song: "Just the Way You Are" Billy Joel

Long after the night left us
We spoke in riddle
Rhymes
And Rhythms
Hymns and Poems.
You wouldn't say.
I wouldn't say.
Just guessing around the same truth.
It's aggravating.

Long before the morning first greeted us
We spoke in joke
Laughing our way to comfort
To truth.
Truth that makes us giggle
Truth that makes us sigh
Truth that relieves us
That we are not alone...
Together.

Long before the sun rose
I listened to you LOL
And I LOL'ed back.
When ALL I wanted was a little more time to
LOL with you.
Argh...it's so aggravating sometimes
To look into your deep smile
and not be
Mz. Transparent
...try as I might.

Long before the day began new
I thought long
Hard
Of You.
Your sassy smart sweet
So friendly
Strangely wise.
I'll have to stretch my knees some more
on this dreaded Monday morning
And this is your doing.
My sweet aggravation.

The Box 69: MAIZE

2011-03-18T18:52:00.000-07:00

#46
Color: Maize
February 27, 1996
Song: "Lesson Learned" Alicia Keys feat. John Mayer

Law Of The Land

Gay women should never date straight women.
Law of the land.
Those who eat their corn from a can
should never share a table
with those who eat corn from the cob.

The Box 69: CARNATION PINK

2011-03-18T18:48:00.000-07:00

#45
Color: Carnation Pink
October 12, 2010
Song: "Old Skool Love" Divine Brown

I WANT TO BE COURTED...
Old school style
With a porch swing,
Lemonade,
And pink carnations.
Long phone calls
And long walks.
I wanna sit in a dark movie theater
And barely touch...
Knees...
Pinkies...
Backs of hands.
I want to go to whisper to each other
At the same time
And near miss a kiss.
This...
Is what I want.

The Box 69: SALMON

2011-03-18T18:40:00.000-07:00

#44
Color: Salmon
September 2, 2000
Song: "Sunday Kind of Love" Etta James

Everything leads to Sunday morning.
Until Sunday morning,
there is no tomorrow.

On Saturday night,
there is a long walk in hands together…
hands hidden from lonely jealous on lookers.
You can’t get to love
without giving love
and that take special skills
and care.

There is a recipe for Saturday night
that is as secret
as good potato salad.
Mama won’t tell you how,
she just eludes
to a perfect batch
with practice.

So you practice Saturday night
until Sunday morning
comes.

Saturday night may last forever
but when Sunday morning comes
that’s love.

The Box 69: SEPIA

2011-03-18T18:37:00.001-07:00

#43
Color: Sepia
January 15, 2001
Song: "I Am Here" Jill Scott

Home
I've been here before...

I’m a Virginian
Who lives in Los Angeles.

I’m an African
Who lives in America.

I’m an Earth alien
Who lives in a universe
Not big enough for my heart.

I am a seed,
Planted to grow
And bloom
Watered by God.
My mother carried the seed
My father fertilized the seed
And a heartbeat was heard.

And on the blind side of my eye
I saw love
And it was good.

I grew into an artist
Who best understood myself
And I imposed myself on others.

I am a woman
Who kissed another
And thought it was true.

I've been here before.
My love loved me preciously
Fed my spirit and nurtured my heart.
My children dance paint and tell story
Just like their daughter will do when it is her turn.

I am a soul
Cased tightly into a body
Long mistreated…
And still I live here.

Do you understand?
And still I live here.

The Box 69: GRANNY SMITH APPLE

2011-03-18T15:15:00.000-07:00

#42
Color: Granny Smith Apple
May 11, 1996
Song: "Grandma's Hands" Bill Withers (The live version at Carnegie Hall)

So They Know Their Great Grand Mother
For Timerra Monet Vest and Cordasia Tishante Henderson...and ALL the great, grand children of Thelma Lee Vest, my Grandmother, the woman I called "Honey".

I can only tell you what I know.
I know 22 years worth.
Actually 21 years worth
because in the last year
there were 3000 miles between us.

I’m thinking of my Honey
and the sweetness of her
and how bitter she could be…
lingering on the lips of the other.

She taught me how to be a woman.
How to love the woman in me.

Grandma’s are suppose to tell you you’re cute…pretty. Grandma’s are always suppose to support you…
back you up.
Grandma’s are always suppose to give you money…
cuz you know they got it.
They always got it.

Grandma’s are suppose to read signs
when you drive in your car...
and in your car,
grandma’s will read all the signs.
“What’s that red light for?”
“Umph, you going kinda fast, ain’t cha?”
“Gas getting kinda low.”
Grandma ain’t never had a driver’s license,
but just because she cares she ask,
“You alright?”,
when you’ve been driving for fifteen hours.

Grandma suppose to be a pack rat.
Give you something to play with.
Grandma suppose to bring you Sunny Delight…
‘cuz she knows its your favorite.
Snow day morning
Grandma suppose to cook
Sausage patties
Fried apples
Homemade biscuits
‘cuz she knows its your favorite...too.

Grandma suppose to be too young
to be a grandma.
Grandma suppose to be too young
to be a great grandma.
But she is.
Grandma is suppose to be your pillar of strength
even when she is not around.
But she is.
She always will be.
That’s her job.
That’s what grandma’s are suppose to do.

She ain’t suppose to take your mama side
when mama is beating your ass.
She ain’t suppose to get mad at you
for not feeding the dog.
She suppose to have a driver’s license
because you get tired of drivin’ her to work
at 6AM
and everywhere else.
Shoot…

And Grandma Why?
Why do you sleep with that flashlight under your pillow?
I always thought those were your teeth.
Is that a mole on your back?
Why I’ve got to pluck the hair off your chin?
Why I’ve got to help you take off your boots?
Why I’ve got to wash your back in the tub?
Why I’ve got to make her El Paso tacos?
Why I’ve got to remember to keep the facet dripping
in the far away bathroom
when the winter is too cold for water?
Why I’ve got to put kerosene in the heater?
Why I’ve got to shovel the snow when it’s piled up?

My reward…
I use to sneak in your bedroom
not to touch anything
but just to be in there.
I know that under your bed
you kept old photos
in a brown cardboard box…
family photos.
Other kids would sneak under their parents’ bed
to look at dirty pictures and magazines.
I’d sneak peeks at my family…
at a younger you.
At a gorgeous you.
You were incredible.
You still are.
The girls just wanted to know…

The Box 69: BRICK RED

2011-03-18T15:12:00.000-07:00

#41
Color: Brick Red
August 9, 2001
Song: "Change is Gonna Come" Sam Cooke

From That August Day On
For the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities…and home.

Tides risin’ high
on Heaven.
Freedom’s Hands
bound and bleeding.
Salt water,
sting and clean,
burying the free
in August, 1619

I don’t remember the day I came on purpose.
That’s for my soul.
I don’t remember the pain on purpose.
That’s for my children.
But blood has memory.
It remembers
when it spilled
when it poured
when it flowed like rivers in my children
who don’t remember me.

Remember me.
Remember the day I ran in a summer soft day
a free and cool night when joy was every moment
and the wind sang my name.
Remember me when I walked to school
miles my feet would travel for miles to the place I belonged.
Remember me
when I rode in the back…
broke my back…
carried you on my back…
kissed you and told you I’d be right back.
Remember me
not the stories
the lies
the myths
but remember me true in your history.

Your blood has memory
and it is of me
and so you know me
you just have to see.

Tobacco fields and the James
High hills of southwest and into Shenandoah’s valley.
The Confederate Capital just down below the little mountain in Charlottesville.
We came in when the tides were high
and the waters stirred with trouble
and yet did not stop.
It didn’t know any better.
Time tip-toed by the bay,
waiting for freedom up the way a bit.

The Box 69: JAZZBERRY JAM

2011-03-18T15:09:00.000-07:00

#40
Color: Jazzberry Jam
March 16, 2011
Song: "MY Colouring Book" Dusty Springfield

"So, Teresa...
Which comes first?
The Crayon?
The Writing?
The Music?"

That's a 'chicken or the egg" type question. My heart is typically my answer.

The music has become a major part of this experience. For as long as I can remember, I have gone to bed with earphones to fall asleep. I love the visuals music offers me. I often think I could be the greatest music video director to ever live because of the thoughts and pictures I see when I listen to ALL music.

The music chosen for "The Box 69" series come from a variety of inspirations. Sometimes there's a direct correlation between the song and the color (Color: Peach and 112's "Peaches and Cream"). Most often the connection is more in keeping the the emotional temperature of the story. My favorite combination of song and story has to be the "Killah Beez" (Color: Forest Green) and Nicole Henry's version of "The Waters of March". First of all, we were heading to the spring in the mountains of Nelson County, Virginia to play in the water and being some place we ain't have no business, the bees got us. More than the bees, however, "The Waters of March" cleanly and beautifully describes my life growing up in the mountains of Virginia, playing in the dirt and grass without shoes, picking blackberries and strawberries, and never knowing we were missing ANYTHING outside our village (and yes, it is recognized as a village) of Covesville. "The Waters of March" is home.

In other occasions, the music helps punctuate an attitude or sentiment of love, pain, hurt, happiness, and joy as reflected in the combination of all the mediums. As I mentioned in a previous entry regarding change, my original concept for this experience was a series of short films for each crayon. Once I accepted I simply do not have time to pull off 69 short films right now, I looked at deconstructing film. What are the ingredients of a motion picture? The script. The images. The sounds. I now look at each crayon and what I have to say about them as a deconstruction of film...perhaps with the ultimate goal of putting it all back together.

Where would we be without music? I can't even drive in my car without some tunes. I could just go up the street to the post office, I'm gonna turn SOMETHING on! There's no going to the gym...on a treadmill??!!...without SOMETHING in my ear keeping me going...pushing me through my "Obama 44"! Yep...minutes on the treadmill...yep...for me and my President! Flights...long walks...moments before sleep...wake up call...MUSIC. Romantic nights. Long hot baths.

One of my colleagues started reading the series and suggested I check out Barbra Streisand's "My Coloring Book". I did. I pulled it up on YouTube and...hmmm... Ok, my immediate reaction was "Ok...no...not my cup of tea," BUT a suggested video off to the right of the video was a Dusty Springfield version of the song. WOW!! Blew me away. I immediately fell in love with the song! Her passion and heartbreak is so profound and deep...raw. It's Soul Music...not defined by a genre...but defined by how my soul is healed by it. My spirit taps its toes. My finger snap without my permission and yet in my delight. THAT is Soul Music...jazzberry jam.

Music reinforces my joy in is project.

The Box 69: DESERT SAND

2011-03-08T01:29:00.000-08:00

#39
Color: Desert Sand
March 7, 2011
Song: "Sinking in the Sand" Ascension

Half Full vs. Half Empty

Half Full
I have no regrets...
At all.
I put myself out there...
In All.
My art...
My passion...
My feelings...
My love.
I can control
If I give it,
So I give it
Willingly,
Freely
And fiercely.
I can NOT control
If I get it back,
So I can't worry
About your worries
About reciprocity,
And exposure,
And vulnerability.
I can't carry your fear.
It's too heavy.
It gets in the way
Of my day.

Half Empty
Slip sinking quick
Drowning in thickness
And darkness.
I'm fighting
For something
To hold on to
Something stable
I need a rock.
I get no air
I can't breathe
Frightened
Alone.
But quiet.
Wait.
Listen to my heart beat
Beat
Beat
Settle.
I'm ok.
It's all just noise
There is no chaos
In the calm.

Half empty well wishing for full
Half full looking for the bottom
Until I appreciate the glass even being on the table
And that I am here,
Neither will matter.
No more going back
And forth.
No more moments of insanity.
Only moments
In the moment
Count.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Deep Breathe.
That's standing on firm ground.

The Box 69: TUMBLEWEED

2011-03-08T00:36:00.001-08:00

#38
Color: Tumbleweed
May 27, 1998
Song: "Window Seat" Erykah Badu

Nothing Else To Do With Time

The cat can’t make up her mind.
“Do I sit in this window or not?”
I think she has a favorite window.
I thought she had a favorite window.
A window to the world.
Filled with questions she can’t answer.
Answers she is so desperate to know.
Knowing is everything to her
Because it is control.
Control is definite power.
Power is definitely dangerous.
But danger isn’t what worries her.
She has done some dangerous things.
She likes jumping from high places.
The bottom is somewhere below
but she doesn’t know it.
She thinks she can fly.
No wings.
Eats her weight
so she can get heavier
and heavier
wallow and roll
in happiness
in joy
and then light.
A bright light.
A sign really…
that speaks
to her.
It has her name written all over it.
It’s her light.
Her height.
Her flight.
Her world
from inside her window.

She just can’t decide which window to sit in.
The beauty of choice...
...and time.

The Box 69: SHADOW

2011-03-07T23:01:00.000-08:00

#37
Color: Shadow
March 6, 2011
Song: "Never Stop" Brand New Heavies

Constant companion
Moves when I move
My shell's portrait in darkness
well lit.
my shadow is my friend
who sits with me
walks with me
But makes no judgement

My reflection shows my tears
Reflects my flaws
Reminds me of where I went wrong.
But you stand strong
And let me be as I am.
My image back to me
Feeds my vanity.
My shadow,
My soul's reflection
Feeds my curiosity.

My spirit's outline
The boundaries of my universe
Standing bold
Bigger than my reality
Looming taller in the sun's light
Showing me that God's shine
Will make me grow taller
Than I'll ever know.
Thank you for my shadow
Even on a cloud filled day
I know you are here
With me.

The Box 69: TAN

2011-03-07T18:41:00.000-08:00

#36
Color: Tan
March 6, 2011
Song: "You Gotta Be" Des'ree

For my friend Elaine Porter, who dropped some serious history on me...over cawfy...with love.

Tan lips
Sip tan cawfy
Glow tan in the sun
Talks of tan youths
in the tan sands of outer Pasadena
A place we've never heard of
A place we've never been.

This was a new place
This old Pasadena.
1959...
1972...
All points in between
All hell broken loose
And ran free
Over my tan sistah.
California was the new land
The wild west made tame
Sandy tan beaches
With dune dudes
And good times.
But a closer look
Revealed specks of truth
Hidden in the desert.
Little tan children
Tan teens
Sent to far away schools
in the tan sands of outer Pasadena
A place we've never heard of
A place we've never been.

When you've only been around your kind
Tan has no meaning
because you're the same.
Right?
No.
We see the difference.
We see the shades
And the complicated hues
From different avenues
All so unique
And rich.
But they see all the same
Just tan
and suddenly
resting at the edge of the 1960's
is the tan sands of outer Pasadena.
The Massachusetts busing from Compton
The Virginia massive resistance in the desert.
The Mississippi spit and curse
In the tan sands of outer Pasadena
A place we've never heard of
A place we've never been.

Tan stands out
Bold pop in the white school walls.
Tan stands back
Observing a foreign land
Tan stands up
Marching forward in change
Tan isn't boring
Or dull
Tan leaves its mark
A reminder of being pioneers
In the tan sands of outer Pasadena
A place we've never heard of
A place we've never been.

Today I sat and listened
An act of love
Tears streaming
Remembering every grain
The 50 year hour glass
Drop like a brick
Land quietly as a feather
Silently so that no one knows
No one asks
What happened
In the tan sands of outer Pasadena
A place we've never heard of
A place we've never been.

The Box 69: SHAMROCK

2011-03-07T18:36:00.000-08:00

#35
Color: Shamrock
October 11, 2010
Song: "Touch A Four Leaf Clover" Atlantic Starr

The Picture of Poetry. The Promise of Prose.

Lucky...or Unlucky in Love

Will ya look at that?
Damn.
I musta slipped
and fell in love.
Done got on my good shirt
Got a spot on my new skirt
And it ain't comin' out.
I gotta change and let it soak
Before it set
And stain.

Mindin' my own business
Walkin' my own way
Steppin' too close to the edge
Love got splashed on me
Baptizin' me clean of Saturday night
Drippin' from my Sunday suit.
And this shit is new!
Back to the square one...again.

I got bumped by you
Hot pot of brew
At the spot where words come to life
And I'm clean
Fresh, crisp creased pair of jeans
And here you come...clumsy
Up to the mic
Fitna spill your love all over me
Fixin ta soak me in your beauty

And You don't miss
I can't dodge your flow
You're the picture of poetry
Snapped quick with flash
Here today in short form
Gone tomorrow in a line or two.
I want the promise of prose
Long stretches of painted portraits
I want a life of turnin' pages
With you.
You leave me drenched
Baptized clean.
New
I done slipped and fell in love
Drown in you.

The Box 69: DENIM

2011-03-07T18:25:00.000-08:00

#34
Color: Denim
March 6, 2011
Song: "Comfortable" John Mayer

Stacked among the many
Not special
The everyday
Pulled for comfort
Kept even when they no longer fit
Seeking
Trying on many
Sizing up your best choice.
Do I go lipstick tight
Baggy butch?

The right fit hugs close
No room for company
Easy afternoon
Cotton stretch over your body
Cool jealousy course through me
Watching from the pile.

You put me on.
You take me off.
You put me away.
Tossed
Back again when you're in the mood
that day.
Faded but favorite.

One day a box showed up
And I was sent off with the old tees
The shorts from too many summers ago
And the lamp that has a short in the wire
Checking all the pockets
Careful not to leave a sign that you were ever here.
And you found none.
The only thing in your back pocket is more denim.

Good...Will someone else want me?
Surely they will...good.
Love me like new
The wear and tear at the hip
The strip and shred at the knee
The pulled back pocket with the random threads
All the history that makes me unique
And a lovely fit.
A Perfect match for my next lover of comfort.

The Box 69: PEACH

2011-02-25T02:38:00.000-08:00

#33
Color: Peach
July 8, 2010
Song: "Peaches 'n' Cream" 112

Peach Cobbler

Sweet syrupy sweet
On my lips
Flowing through every word
You whisper to me.
There is a sweetness in the air
Blowing close
Warm
Right by my mouth.
It races over my tongue
And I have not taken a bite.

Peach cobbler should be made with the perfect peach.
Light fuzz tickle on the skin
On my skin
Against yours

She is my hot peaches.
I want to bite
and taste her sweet drip
I'll wait for ripe
For season
The reason
She asked
Be slow
Take time
Don't rush
It will be done
Be steady
When she is ready
And when the moment cums
The cobbler will drip drops of pure
Heaven.

You can't rush a good cobbler
All the ingredients
Must match you
Your taste
Your appetite
Your timing
It must all work together
But nothing in the perfect cobbler will be perfect without
The perfectly sweet peach.

The Box 69: BLUSH

2011-02-14T03:42:00.000-08:00

#32
Color: Blush
February 14, 2011
Song: "I Wanna Thank Ya" Angie Stone

With minutes before Valentine's Day,
I ask the question:
Is it possible to love more than one love at once?

Dear Poetry,
I'm sendin' my love
To my first love.
You are the one
Who gave me a new life,
A life beyond the tears.
Set up for the setup
On a blind date
Set up by my granny
Because she knew
I'd dig you.
She knew
I would need you.
She knew
You would save me.
She, who said,
"You master the words. Don't let the words master you."
when she saw them words kickin' my ass.
She, who gave me my first journal
And said,
"Write it all down. You'll never know who'll read it or need it."
Short phrases
Syncopation
Staccato rhythms
Vowels held for style
Consonants trippin' off my lips
Makin' me brand new.
Makin' me cool
Like hip hop in July '85.
And that's hot.
I was no Salt...
Or Pepa...
No Queen...
No Roxanne Shante...
No Mc Lyte,
But in my pocket of Covesville, Virginia,
You made me experience my own rapper's delight
And I love you
For lovin' me
Verbally,
Rhythmically,
Metaphorically,
Alphabetically traversing all the ways
You
Spell
L-O-V-E.
Loving me unconditionally
With a Q,
X,
Y,
And Z.
Knowing the bliss
Of your poetic kiss
Makes me blush.
My heart shaped love, I send to you, Poetry.

Dear Prose,
Lord knows
Your long strokes and strolls give me the greatest pleasure.
If poetry be the sprint,
You be the 400...
Sprint the straight aways
Stride the curves.
Lean into the bend
And carry me over the long wind.
Pace myself all over you
And savor the short story.
Grab my pen
And revive myself
Save my life with an anecdote antidote,
Escaping into a long ago
Or a place far, far away.
Thank you, Prose
For being my fantasies...
For being my dreams in color...
For being my bedtime stories
And my morning affirmations.
You showed me love,
Beginning,
Middle,
And End.
Knowing the bliss
Of your novel kiss
Makes me blush.
My heart shaped love, I send to you, Prose.

Dear Music,
So while I have this adulterous affair
With poetry AND prose,
You have never judged me.
You underscore my passion.
You give rhythm to my lust.
Grooves and jams ignite images of moving life in my head.
Mini movies premiering on repeat
As the bass booms through my body.
Too loud in my ears
But I don't care.
Serenade me.
Lullaby me.
Woo and wash over me
Like a Teddy P command,
A Marvin Gaye "awww...",
A Ronald Isley "la-la-la-la-laaa".
Caress me and dress me in love
Like a Patti Labelle belting slide,
A Nancy Wilson honey dipped lilt,
An Ella Fitzgerald classic scat.
You have spoken on my behalf many times.
Killed me softly
And
Made me over.
When my house wasn't a home,
You gave me shelter
And let me lay my head on your pillow.
Thank you, dear sweet song and singer.
Knowing the bliss
Of your melodic kiss
Makes me blush.
My heart shaped love, I send to you, Music.

With minutes after Valentine's Day,
I'm full and filled...
With love.
Yes, it is possible
With them all.

The Box 69: FOREST GREEN

2011-02-09T13:52:00.000-08:00

#31
Color: Forest Green
April 11, 2009
Song: "Waters of March" Nicole Henry

Country Ghetto Rule #1: If Big Mama tell you to do some…or DON'T do something…you listen, damn it!

Aight then…I was 10. My brother, Chris, 8. My cousin, Sandy 8. My sister La'Shawn, 4. We were at my great grandmother's house with my aunt Nellie. My great grandmother, Magnolia Harris, was my family's "Big Mama". Her husband Robert…"Big Daddy". Ok...so we're at Big Mama and Big Daddy's house…summer time…beautiful day. Big Mama's house didn't have running water. If you peed, you used a pot and if you pooped, you used the outhouse…and child…you know if I had to do a number two, I waited until we got home!! Greatest invention of the modern age: indoor plumbing. But I digress…

The great thing about going to Big Mama's house was the country livin': feeding the animals (cows, chickens, horses, rabbits) and going to the spring to get the water for drinking, cooking, cleaning and bathing. Now spring water is the shit and to get it, you had to walk down this long path beyond the hen house and pig pen, down a long "Little House on the Prairie" type hill and The spring water at Big Mama's house was perfect and cold…straight out the mountain. I'm sayin'! But one summer, Big Daddy dug a well close to the house and was able to place a water pump closer to the house. Aw man…that killed us because the kids loved to go down to the spring to get the water for Big Mama. You know we were down there playin' in the water first but we always came back up the hill with our pails of water. Well, Big Daddy and that dang pump finished all that!

We asked Big Mama if we could go down to the spring anyway, to play in the water. She said,
"No. The path had grown over and there may be snakes in that grass! Big Daddy needs to cut the path down before ya'll go do there."
We knew that wasn't happening. Big Daddy wouldn't need to cut the path as he had a brand new pump bringin' him water damn near to the door! Shoot! We went out and played in the backyard. Knowing we had the devil in us, Big Mama looked out and saw us inching towards the gate that led to the spring. She made us come sit on the front porch until Aunt Nellie was ready to leave. Oooh child, we were mad! Aw man…and I was the oldest…and the ring leader…so you know I had a plan! I whispered,
"Let's try again."
We were going to the spring! We tip-toed off the porch, slinked around the house and took off runnin' for the gate. Boy, we were runnin' like something was chasin' us!

We were out of view from the house, we started down the long hill towards the spring…in this order: I was in front, then Chris, then Sandy, and then way up the hill was La'Shawn, pickin' flowers or something. We made it down to the spring. All of a sudden, I hear this screaming sound coming from up the hill. We turn around and my sister is barreling down the hill, running. Gravity was bringin' her ass down that hill. She tripped, fell and rolled the rest of the way down the hill. We ran up the hill to meet her halfway. She finally stopped out our feet. I grabbed her and got her to her feet only to discover YELLOW JACKETS clinging to her back. My sister had stepped on a yellow jacket hive! Aw child, our little hearts started racing because we could hear them but we couldn't see them! And they were coming! We were so far from the house…so far…but we had to run…and run through them! You see, these were the woods…the bushes…there was no trying to run around the bees…there was only one trail and that wasn't even a real trail anymore. Chris took off running first. He was the fastest and I remember thinking, "Please Lord, let Chris out run them bees!" He was gone…but they got him. They got us all.

Chris was running. Sandy was behind him and I trailed in the back, dragging my sister by the arm. That child was heavy that day!! The bees felt like someone was beating us with lemon straw against our wet bodies, long stinging lashes, hot burning pricks. It was continuous and long lasting. I could only hear bees and Chris shouting as he ran, "Killah Beezzz…Killah Beezzz!" He made it to the top of the hill, disappeared over the ridge and sprinted for the house…steady screaming. Sandy also reached the top of the ridge and disappeared. Man, between the bees and my sister, I didn't think I was gonna make it to the top of the hill, much less the house. I finally reached the top of the hill.

In the distance, I could see my aunt running from the house, pass Sandy and straight for us. She was yelling, "Let go of La'Shawn and run!" Thank Jesus my aunt was an athlete because I did...I let go and ran! La'Shawn made it back to her feet and was trying to run with me, screaming for me not to leave her. I was crying so hard hearing her like that, but Nellie was coming. I could see her. She was in the distance, but she was coming. La'Shawn was running as hard as her little legs could take her. Whoosh! Nellie ran by me and said keep running for the house. I looked over my shoulder and saw Nellie get to La'Shawn just as my sister was collapsing. She was exhausted. She was in shock. Nellie, with her hand, wiped a sheet of bees off La'Shawn. She scooped La'Shawn up and started running behind me. Big Mama attached a water hose to that damn pump! (To this day, I have mixed feelings about that pump!) As we came running towards her, she was yelling, "Stop running and take off your clothes." Chris ain't hear shit! He was running for the sake of running at this point. Big Mama had to run catch him to keep him from running in the house! He was still yellin' "Killah Beez…Killah Beezzz!!!" We were all stripping out of our clothes and running at the same time! As we all stripped, we realized, the bees weren't on our clothes, they were attached directly to our skin. Aw man…it was awful. We looked like the black Little Rascals! We were all standing in our underwear and socks, getting sprayed down by Big Mama. And you know she was preachin' us out…not yellin'…very quietly actually, "Didn't I tell ya'll not to go down to that spring…naw…but ya don't listen." This being said over the whimpers of her bad ass great grandkids.

We rode home, none of us able to sit down fully. We each sittin' on half a butt check because the bees lit up the other half. We got home and we each were so miserable that all we could do was lay down on the floor in front of the box fan that was drafting cool air from the front screen door. Mama came home to find us all laid out and still whimpering. She asked what happened and my aunt explained. My mom, so completely disappointed in me, said, "I guess you don't need a butt whippin'. Bees took care of that." Man…that damn pump.

The Box 69: LEMON YELLOW

2011-02-09T01:33:00.000-08:00

#30
Color: Lemon Yellow
February 7, 2011
Song: "What A Fool Believes" The Doobie Brothers

Brilliant bright and just out of reach
Protected and taunting
The lemon is bold up there looking down at me.
What's holding you up there?
A thin twine line dangling you just...like...right there.
I'm going home.
I'm gonna come back tomorrow with a plan.

Brilliant bright and just out of reach
And what did the previous day teach?
Come back with a plan.
I came back with a ladder.
Step up and just reach
And still just out of reach.
The wind blew you to the right of my lean.
And my ladder won't get me to your place of rest.
Persistent
And now accepting a challenge.
I tell you what,
If I get my hands on you,
I'm gonna take you
And gently,
Careful
Squeeze
Awaiting a taste.
I'm gonna come back with a new plan.

Brilliant bright and just out of my reach
What did the previous day teach?
Come back with a new plan.
I came back with a ladder and a broom.
If I can just get the right swing
Get the bristles to help me win my lovely fruit,
Straw fingers lightly stroking you from underneath
I'll be able to have you in my grasp
My joy will be as bright as your skin.
I pushed too hard.
Poked too long.
And the lemon landed further UP the tree
Further away from me.
Dang it!
I'm gonna come back tomorrow with a new plan.

Brilliant bright and just out of reach
And what did the previous day teach?
Come back with a plan.
I came back with a ladder and a broom
And a pair of hedge clippers.
Ok...now I've got too much shit on me
Keep my balance,
Reach for you,
Keep myself safe
AND enjoy you
All at once.
My hands full
And so focused on you
Barely standing on the ladder
Broom in my left hand
Clippers in my right
I don't feel the ground growing closer.
I land square on my ass.
Don't stay down long
THAT would be embarrassing.
Play that shit off
Before anyone else catches my slip
I get up
Dust myself off
I go home
Carrying my bruised butt
My bruised ego
My ladder
My broom
And my clippers.
None of my plans are working
Maybe planning is the problem.
Don't know if I'll come back tomorrow.
Who am I foolin'?
Sure I will.

Brilliant and bright and just out of reach
And what did the previous day teach?
Come back...with just me.
No tools.
No plan.
No tricks.
No stunts.
Just me.
See,
While I was chasing that one
Lovely, brilliant bright lemon,
I missed the whole entire tree
Blossom and bloom
With possibilities.
Reach out my hand.
Hi.
Reach out my hand.
Hello.
Reach out my hand.
How are you?
Reach out my hand.
How do you do?
I go home.
With company.

Gentle rest my bounty on the kitchen table.
One by one,
Gently roll them under the warm touch of my hands.
Squeeze.
Have some water.
Add a little sweetness
A dap of honey
A shake of cane
An ice cube
Or two
Gently stir
Swirl and Mix.
Am I satisfied?
My thirst is quenched.
My tongue tasting familiar tones
A lovely sip
Of sour sweetness.
But that one lemon still rest on my mind.
Hmmmm...
I wonder,
What's tomorrow's plan?

The Box 69: GOLDENROD

2011-02-09T01:23:00.000-08:00

#29
Color: Goldenrod
February 8, 2011
Song: "Why" Annie Lennox

"This is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you."

The three dollars in quarters and the day I became a woman...that woman.
Three dollars in quarters, a quick belt, a long talk and a broken heart...
And I became a woman...that woman.

"This is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you."
Yeah...ok...whatever man...
My mama knew how to whoop butt!
Oh yeah!
We came from that switch swattin' belt beatin' house.
We got whoopin's!!
'Spare the rod, spoil the child' up in that piece!!
And my mother WAS the Goldenrod!!

See, these youngin's today, don't know the power of the belt.
They don't know about that long walk to the hedges to get your own switch!
And you better not come back with no small, whimpy twig!
Mama will make you go back and get a second switch and double your trouble!!

I grew up in a house with my mom, my grandma, and my aunt.
Three distinctly different discipline styles:

My grandmother was the sarcasm queen.
She could give a beatin' but her butt beatin' days were behind her.
She could cut you with some words leave your spirit lookin' for a comeback you'd better not say. Once my brother Chris asked my grandma for some money, but he hadn't cut the grass like she'd ask. When he asked for the money, she calmly said, "You might as well be talkin' to my hindpot(hindparts) because my ears ain't listenin'." What do you say after that? Nothing. You cut the damn grass...that's what you do.

My aunt was an athlete coming up, so you'd think she was the one to fear come whoopin' time...but no. Aunt Nellie, was a softy. We could manage to work our way out of a beatin' with her, but she caught on quick. She finally figured out the phrase that was a type of psychological punishment, "Wait until your mama gets home." Oh my goodness! When you heard those words, you nearly died anyway. It also made Nellie the biggest tattle tale in the world, but she used that to her advantage. What was important: now...you gotta wait! You gotta wait until mama gets home...dang.

My mom was the one though.
You cross the line...
You do the crime...
You do the time...
For a long time...
With her...
And her belt!
My mom...
Strong...
Could hold you by one hand and tan them legs with the other. You couldn't get away! The grip that could open a jar of brand new pickles without hittin' the bottom to make the top pop had you by your wrist and you were done! Oh my goodness...and please don't run. For your life, to save your life, go on and take the beatin' like a champ because if you run, you gonna get it longer and with pauses for rest!

I remember the LAST whoopin'. 1981. I was nine. We had move from the country in Covesville, Virginia, to nearby small city, Charlottesville. We moved into an apartment complex that neighbored a laundromat. This is 1981 and Ms. Pac-Man was the shit...they had Ms. Pac-Man at the laundromat too...shoot...I wanted to play!

My grandma would come and stay with us during the week and some weekends as she worked in town. It was easier to get her to work from our house. This one weekend, in '81, grandma was staying with us and she had a basket with a couple loads of laundry to knock out. She kept her quarters in a little green coin purse. Ten dollars in quarters to be exact. And I knew where she kept it:
She had the change purse inside her black pocketbook...
Her pocketbook sitting next to her basket of clothes...
Her basket of clothes in my mom's room.
Making sure no one was paying me any mind, I crept into my mom's room, made my way pass the basket, and into my grandma's purse. I grabbed a handful of quarters, not really counting them but eyeballing the coin purse to make sure I didn't take them all or so many where anyone would notice they were gone...and then I was gone!

I grabbed my brother Chris, who would actually play the game since I sucked, and off we went to the laundromat. Chris was seven and as long as I had a good reason for him to follow me, he would. In this case, I flash a quarter in his face and said Ms. Pac-Man. Done.

We get to the laundromat and head straight for the back where the soda machines, snack machine, and the video games all resided. Chris was good at Ms. Pac-Man. Even at seven, he was pretty amazing to watch. When his game was over, he was ready to go. Little did he know, I had more quarters in my jacket pocket. I pulled out another quarter. He didn't ask. He just played again.

This cycle when on for a while. Soon, with every quarter I pulled out, I had to convince Chris that I "found" another quarter. It was like I had a magic jacket!! His eyes would light up when "Poof! Look what I found! Another quarter!" After about a hour and a half and three dollars worth of "POOF!", we were done. Satisfied, we walk led back to the house. Nope, didn't think it through.

We get to the house to find my grandma and my mom, looking frantically for something. My heart immediately began to race. I knew what they were looking for but do you think I asked so I could at least help them look? HECK NO! And funny enough, that was one of the first hints that tipped my mom off. I was my grandmother's oldest grandchild. I always had an incredibly close relationship with my grandma, so much so I choose to move back out to the country to live with her rather than in town as not to leave her alone in Covesville to live by herself. When I didn't immediately volunteer to help my grandmother, my mom knew something was up. I just kept my mouth shut and sat in the living room where I could hear the developments of the search.

Suddenly I hear, "What ch'all lookin' for?" If I could set people on fire with my eyes, Chris would have burnt up that day! He had no idea of what I had done, so out of concern for our grandmother, he wanted to know how he could help.
"I lost some quarters. I know I had $10 in my little purse. I must have put them down somewhere. I just don't know where."
Ok, now we have a situation. All this looking around for something she KNEW she had, is making her feel a little crazy. What was even worse was I LET her look. I LET my grandmother believe she had lost her quarters and that she put them someplace and didn't know where she put them.

My mom, now really turning on detective mode, helping my grandma by backtracking the events of the day. She asked us, "Where have you two been for the last hour?" I hear Chris speak from his ashes, thinking this was going to clear us of any wrong doing,
"We were up at the laundromat."
"Why? What were y'all doing at the laundromat?"
"Playing Ms. Pac-Man."
"Playing Ms. Pac-Man? Where y'all get quarters for Ms. Pac-Man?"
I KEEP settin' Chris on fire with my eyes, but Chucky kept coming back and steady talkin'.
"Terésa had 'em."
"Teresa had what?"
"Some quarters."
He ain't totally burnt up yet?!
"Teresa!" my mother called out for me.
"Huh?" I replied from the couch that would be Canada during slavery times.
Mom came into the living room and towered over me like the Statue of Liberty.
"Where did you get the quarters?"
The dumbest thing you can say,
"I don't know."
And I capped that dumb ass statement with an equally dumb shrug of the shoulders.

So now, not only have I stolen three dollars in quarters from my grandma, I've lied to mother. (In my will and testament, I'd like to leave to La'Shawn my Merlin game...to my Aunt Nellie, the Atari...to Chris, continued dirty looks from Heaven...oh wait, my parting crimes included theft and lying...I'm shaky, at best, on Heaven.) "Teresa, I'm gonna ask you one more time."
"I took it."

Teresa Annette Dowell May 29, 1972 - Whatever Day 1981. A short but sweet life.

My mom took me in her bedroom. She closed the door. My heart exploded. She grabbed her belt. She told me to take my pants off. I did. It was quiet...at first. Of course, that didn't last long...the quiet. No sooner than I had exposed leg, she brought the fire! And I had one of those mothers who landed a word with every whip, so if you did something that needed explainin', that was gonna be a long ass whoopin'! Not this one. As my mother was whipping my leg, she was talking on each blow, but something was different. I heard her voice crack. I heard the tears come. I heard her heart break. She stopped. She stopped, looked at me with tears trailing her face and whispered,
"You stole from my mother."
I looked at my mother and saw something I had never seen in my mother's face before: the look of a woman looking into the face of another woman who stole from her mother. In that momen, my mother was not my mother. I was some woman who stole from her mother...and I broke her heart. I broke it jagged. That hurt worse than the whoopin'...but I know it hurt her more. It was the ONLY time in my life where I understood the phrase "This is gonna hurt me more than it hurt you." to be true. Because that day, it did.

My mother put down her belt and said,
"I'm gonna need to talk to you."
And we did. I pulled my pants up over my welted legs. I sat in a chair across from her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

She told me about trust and how once a person can no longer trust you, they can no longer love you because they will always worry about the next time you will hurt them. She told me about honor and to always walk this earth honorably. My name does not belong solely to me. If I damage my name, my reputation, my credibility, the name Dowell (and eventually when I added my mom's maidan name, Vest) would be ruined at my hands. She told me that I will have no reason, ever, to steal in my life...that if I ask for it and she can give it to me, she will...but also understand that if I hear "no" that it is with good reason and that doesn't mean to just take it. It means it's not meant for me to have right now. The "right now" may come after I have earned it, or after have worked for it, or simply in due time, but don't ever take something that doesn't belong to me.

After the talk, I had to go and apologize to my grandmother. THAT was my goldenrod. To this day, I would allow my mom to beat me this side of my life than to see the hurt my grandmother carried on her face. I vowed I would never give cause for that look again.

I'll turn 39 this coming May, and at no time in the last 30 years have I forgotten that day. I've made it my life's promise to never disappoint my mother and my grandmother MORE than I did that day. I'll phrase it like that because we're human, and we'll continues to frustrate and infuriate our parents...but my mother taught me how to be the best woman I could be that day. She taught me that if I live my life with the care of others first and walk with integrity, the daughter will make the mother proud. What a day...in 1981.

Thank you mom.

The Box 69: INDIGO

2011-02-06T09:50:00.000-08:00

#28
Color: Indigo
February 6, 2011
Song: "Tarot" Cassandra Wilson

What does it all mean?
All these colors?
These symbols?
These signs?
It's all so busy
Complicated
While I'm trying to be simple
And speak plainly.
I can't read minds.
I can't read tea leaves
Or bones
Or stones.

I read lips when they move, "I love you."
I read heart thumbs like morse code
Dashes and hashes made from you taking my breath away.
I read fingertips across your body
Braille to the my blindness
Not wanting to see
The truth.

What does it all mean, lady,
When you turn over precious pocket art
and tell me about me?
When you point to the stars
and show me to me?
When you cradle the moon
and deliver me to me
in hard crashing high tides
and low rolling swoons?

And by the time the sun rises,
The reading is over.
My indigo mood long left me walking home
Soul touching the bottom of the ocean
Deep
Cold
Swimming about
Seeking light
Faintly up
Faintly there.

Then, my heart expands.
I float
Rising far beyond uncertainty
And my indigo blues.
And I am ok.

Today,
I go back to the lady
With the cards
Sit before her
Again.
The cards are different
because I am different.
I'm in a different indigo mood today.
I'm in the shallow end
Where it ain't that deep.
I stay
And pay my coins
Because I enjoy her company.

And by the time the sun sets,
the reading is over.
I feel new arms envelop
And engulf me
In love
I look down
And find
They are my own.

I guess it wasn't in the cards for us.

The Box 69: CADET BLUE

2011-02-06T08:27:00.000-08:00

#27
Color: Cadet Blue
February 10, 1998
Song: "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" Roberta Flack

For my sister La'Shawn and my brother-in-law Marcus, who are expecting...again...July 2011. Every birth is a new experience...a new gift.

The night rolls in on a blue whisper.
A cool night breeze
dries the slow moving tears
that tracks down her’s face.
She is happy,
sad,
scared,
alone,
and in love
with her husband.
And he loves her.
He loves them both.
So does she.
They both will love her.
Are they ready?
Tonight they don’t know…
not on blue night number one.

The next blue night
they are lying in bed
together:
She and her husband.
It’s so beautiful.
He rolls over
and hugs them both.
IN love.

Another blue night,
calm and quiet,
she screams.
She cries.
Sounding off
loud like a trumpet
blowing up high.
What to do?
The blue night isn’t over yet.
There is still two
and a half
more moon turns
to live through.
Are they ready?
They will have to be.

Her name is Gabriel.

The Box 69: ALL

2011-02-02T00:33:00.000-08:00

Color: ALL
Song: "Change" Joy Denalane feat. Lupe Fiasco

Change.

Accepting Change...
Doesn't come easily for most people.
A Change in relationships
A Change in jobs
A Change of leadership
A Change of address.

Being Creatures of habit we are also Creatures of evolution...Constantly adapting with the Changing times.

I experienced a need for change yesterday that really ruffled my peacock feathers. Since the beginning of "The Box 69" I've been using the vintage crayons from a 1958 64-count Crayola Crayon box. I bought the box in a collector's tin about 10 years ago and for those 10 years, they've just been some old crayons in a tin box trying to look important.

Once I got over myself and the idea that I was sitting on this uber treasure that would bring me riches in my retirement (you can order that same tin of crayons online for $12), I cracked the tin open and took a good whiff of that first day of school smell!

Change.

Yesterday, I bought a new box of 120-count Crayola Crayons...and they look nothing like the crayons I've shot so far in the blog series. The paper color for each color. The font used on the various colors is different from the old school crayons. The new crayons have the name typed and set in English, Spanish, and French. Continuity...gone. Or so I thought.

Change.

Originally, my idea for this project was to shoot a series of three minute short films thematically connected to or depicting the emotional temperature of each color/crayon. 64 short films...actually 69 short films (I thought 69 would be sexier than 64 for obvious reasons...change)...each three minutes long...nuts and crazy and ridiculous! Who had time to shot and cut all that material?! Naw...I needed a new plan.

Change.

I write...a lot. I write nearly everyday. My grandmother introduced me to writing regularly because I had reading and comprehension issues growing up. In her mind, the more I used my own words to tell stories, I'd grow more comfortable with someone else's words. Now, I love words...and how they work in partnership with others.

Change.

Changed my life.

In 1990, I entered James Madison University an accounting major. By the end of 1992, I was a theater major. Change. Change I didn't...couldn't tell my dad about...until graduation day...1994. Yeah...at JMU, there was a big, overall ceremony for all the graduates with a speaker and then based on your major, you went off to different buildings on campus for your specific program's graduation ceremony. My dad started off towards the business school. I called for him to come back this way...my way...to the Performing Arts graduation. "For what?" he asked.

Change.

Throughout my life, I've experienced and embraced Change. Hell, I voted for it in 2008. So, why was it so difficult to wrap my brain around switching from the 1958 Crayola crayons to the current, multilingual, politically correct crayons? (Indian Red was renamed Chestnut in 1999 and Flesh was replaced with Peach in 1962. My box '58 box kept Indian Red but still switched out Flesh for Peach. How I WISH I had the Flesh crayon! I'd find the deepest, darkest, most wonderfully Black person I could find to hold THAT Flesh crayon!) The answer...Comfort. A mighty different word from Change...Comfort. They were the crayons I grew up using. I was accustom to certain hues holding distinct meanings and I never questioned them. Ok...I may have questioned Thistle. Who knew what a dang Thistle was?! That was one of the colors that remained NEW looking for the entire life of my crayons because I didn't know what it was! Meanwhile, primary colors? Worn OUT! Comfort! The metallics? Gold, Silver, Copper...WORN OUT! Comfort! Combination colors: Red Orange, Blue Green, Green Blue, Yellow Orange, Orange Yellow, Orange Red, Blue Gray, Gray Blue...worn out, Worn Out, WORN OUT! I KNEW those colors...even when you mixed them! Comfort! I was comfortable with what I knew...and I used it. I relied on it.

**Side note: White also remained new lookin' and in the box. Take from that what you will...but I'm here to tell you, I NEVER had Black paper to color on, so White was a waste of crayon. However, if you have Black...you MUST have White, right?! Comfort.**

Here's the thing about Comfort: it's but two shades from Complacency. I looked up Complacency just now and realized it's time to shake things up a bit. Complacency: noun, a feeling of smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one's achievements. Hmmmm...

So, I'm leaving the Comfort of what I've Created. I'm leaving the Comfort of what I know. I'm Challenging myself to dig deeper...to mine for more precious jewel tones in myself, in my life, and in the others around me. Change is difficult. But it also mighty, mighty rewarding.

Oh...and I closed my eyes just now, pulled out five random crayons out of my carrying case: Timberwolf, Vivid Tangerine, Cerulean, Macaroni and Cheese...and Tan. Yes, Tan. I said I closed my eyes! A hint of Comfort fights to remain Close. Ok Tan...I see you...Let's Make Some Changes!

TDV

The Box 69: COPPER

2011-01-30T20:44:00.000-08:00

#26
Color: Copper
January 30, 2011
Song: "Call Tyrone" Erykah Badu

I have learned to live with Disappointment,
And now I am about to evict that bitch!

Oh yeah, this is an angry poem
'Cuz we done had our last fallen out.
We done had our final bout.
I'm about to put her usin' ass out.
Takin' up my precious time.
Hatin' on the joy I find.
Disappointment is of the lowdown kind.

I have learned to live with Disappointment.
And it's really my fault.
I let her overstay her welcome.
Gave her a nice home to fester.
And she ain't even go half on the electric.
I carried her ass like a bag of bricks
When all I needed to do was set her shit down
And walk away.

"Oh...so what? You...you just gon' be mad at me today?"
She said to me with a straight face!
I reply, "Nah...I'm not mad.
Freedom is joyful.
Happy, like me."
And then I showed ALL my teeth when I smiled with glee.

See, Disappointment knew how to visit,
And that was fine
Because it made me appreciate when
Happiness
Success
Love
came visiting in these copper doors of mine.
Disappointment decided to take up residency
and my other friends refused to visit me.

So I'm makin' a choice, boo boo.
Pack up all yo shit
Your black plastic bag of clothes
Your Essence magazines from 1994
Your bottle with the corner of Boones Farm Strawberry Hill
that's been in the fridge for the last two weeks.
You have been moved out.
The door is closed
Chained and bolted
Locks changed
With new copper keys.
Landlord noted.

Disappointment doesn't live here anymore.

The Box 69: CORNFLOWER

2011-01-30T20:38:00.000-08:00

#25
Color: Cornflower
January 30, 2011
Song: "Back Down Memory Lane" Minnie Riperton

Today.
Today was a good day.
We awoke.
You made breakfast.
I had coffee.
I like that grinder you use.
Today...10 years later...
We still love each other.

Today...
We spoke of family
of familar times
of shared laughs
of continued disagreements.

Today...
We spoke of being closer
of the two moonlit turtles we remembered by the pond
of impossible possibilities
of missed opportunities.

Today...
We spoke of 10 years together
of day one
of that last time
of the first time.

Today...
We spoke of world travels
of trips abroad
of city life versus country comfort
of sharing new walls.

Today...
We spoke of romantic memories
of unspoken fantasies
of broken hopes and dreams.
of undying love.

Today...
We spoke of shared tears
of next ten year fears
of what happens now.

Today...
We spoke of the past 10 years
Together
Apart.

Today...
We spoke on the phone
We, together
Each one alone
Of the last 10 years
Of reinvented love
For 1 hour, 38 minutes.

Today...
We awoke
And we spoke.
And my soul was nearly satisfied.

The Box 69: YELLOW ORANGE

2011-01-30T20:31:00.000-08:00

#24
Color: Yellow Orange
January 30, 2011
Song: "I'll Write A Song For You" Earth, Wind, and Fire

The yellow sun rises in the east
Crawls in my window
Dances over your face
On the right
Lighting you perfectly
Painting you in amber and gold.
Warm.

I sit up
And gaze.
Watch.
Study.
Melt soft in love.
You are my muse.

I reach for my pen
And journal
And overwhelmed with awed inspiration
I create.
I indulge.
I consume your quiet beauty
And with words I could never speak
I write.

The sun sets to the west
Resting perfectly on you
On the left
Shading you calmly with orange, purple and blues.
Cool.

The beach breeze draws us closer together
Watching the sea rise and fall
The breaking waves silent
Against my heart's rushing roar
I pull a folded note from my pocket
this morning's musing
Read softly,

"I wanna take a picture of you...
And then make it move.
I wanna record a single sigh...
And then make it the blues.
I wanna paint a single stroke...
And then make it a mural.
I want to write your name on paper...
And then make it the news.
And at the end of all this art,
When my personal exhibit is done,
And on display in my heart,
Please sign,
"Love, Your Muse."

I wonder what she will inspire
Tomorrow.

The Box 69: MIDNIGHT BLUE

2011-01-28T22:51:00.000-08:00

#23
Color: Midnight Blue
August 30, 1996
Song: "How Come, How Long" Babyface and Stevie Wonder

Excerpt from my stage play, "Paper or Plastic: A Homeless Round-up."

The Water Shortage.

There is a water shortage.
Three minutes is all I get.
Get it
And go.
Ready, set, go.

The water is too cold.
Grab the soap
And clothe
And scrub.
The hands first.
There are things under your nails.
Red,
White,
Pink,
Brown,
Flesh,
Blood...
Enough.
Scrub.
1 minute.

Don’t cry
Because there’s a water shortage.
You don’t have time.
Wash your mouth out.
Wash it out with soap.
This you think is nasty.
That he said was nastier.
Then, you didn’t have time to think…
You still don’t…
1 minute 30 seconds.

Scrub your breast.
Get the smudges off.
Scrub your skin
To clean him off...
But you can’t.
The smudge is in the skin.
A scratch,
A scar,
A bruise,
A bite.
Don’t have time to figure it out.
Make every attempt still to get it out.
Move on lady.
Move on.
Get there.
Get there now
because you don’t have time…
1 minute 48 seconds.
Take the soap and move on down.
Scrub,
Rub,
Make it sting
With salty tears
That flow in the cuts.
Make it burn
Your whole body’s fire.
2 minutes.

Get it out!
It hurts.
It hurts too bad!
2:15.
You’re hurting me! Why?
2:25.
You’re tearing me apart!
2:35
Get it out! I claw it out.
2:45.
Dig my fingers and teeth to get it out.
2:50.
I can’t see but screaming
2:51
Don’t hit me again!
2:52
Don’t hit with that!
2:52:30
Get off!
2:53
I can’t move anymore! Don’t…
2:53:30
...Please...
2:53:45
Two
2:54
Three
2:54:25
Four
2:54:30
Please.
Quiet...
And count it over.
2:54:45
It’s too
2:54:46
Big
2:54:59
For that...
2:55
Please...
2:56
Get...
2:57
Off...
2:58
Me...
2:59
Please!

3 minutes.

Times up.

There is a water shortage
And there are
Three
New
Women
Standing
In line
To take
A shower.

Time’s up.

The Box 69: MELON

2011-01-27T22:51:00.000-08:00

#22
Color: Melon
May 28, 2001
Song: "Good Morning" John Legend

Breakfast

You wake up one day
and she is singing your name over
scrambled eggs,
biscuits,
jelly,
butter,
grits,
brewing coffee,
and bacon
and cantaloupe.
And you know she loves you
and the world seems so still
and all seems so clear.
You think about how life is
and how blessed you are to have her
and there is love
there in the kitchen…
singing your name over scrambled eggs…
Everything seems perfect.

And in the midst
of your bliss
and planning for all the days ahead,
the coffee
starts to overflow
and burn the maker
and smells of burnt Brazil
and the bacon
sizzle
and pop too long
and has lost all its taste
and color to charcoal
and its not fresh cantaloupe…
store bought sliced…
not even the right season.
You don’t even like your eggs scrambled.

Something in your gut says go back to bed.
Something in your gut says take a shower
and get breakfast elsewhere.
Something in your gut says just go.
But you don’t.
Because standing there
looking at the
burnt bacon,
the strong coffee,
the chopped loupe,
the scrambled eggs…
standing there…
You…
loving her still…
loving her more…
because she tried.
And she tried
with love.

Cook her breakfast tomorrow.

The Box 69: MAROON

2011-01-26T22:54:00.000-08:00

#21
Color: Maroon
January 26, 2011
Song: "Tattoo Woman" Jean-Marc Cerrone

Excerpt from my screenplay, "TATTOO"

Every tattoo has a story...
IS a story.
There is a mystery to being the bearer of a tattoo.

My body is my canvas.
My body is my quilt.
My body is my book...
My tablet upon which I paint my life...
And write my poetry.
I bear the stories
I choose to tell.

Like Hemingway,
I am a drunk
But my drink
Is my ink
My pen
To my skin.
I am a writer...
A true artist.
I am a unique soul...
A gypsy of sorts.
I live my art.
I live my pain.
The sting of its beauty is not a cost at all,
But it's a test
To see if I am worthy.

The Box 69: SILVER

2011-01-25T16:45:00.000-08:00

#20
Color: Silver
January 24, 2011
Song: "How Do You Mend A Broken Heart" Al Green

Is it a cut or a break
That hurts more?
That heals sore?

Is it a cut or a break
That eases pain?
Where freedom begins...again?
Where lessons are learned?
Where hand over a flame burns?

Is it a cut or a break
Where love mends?
Where pride ends?

Is it a cut or a break
Where bonds grow?
Where grace glow?
Where strength is found to rebound?

Growth is
Breaking up
Breaking down
Breaking through.

Growth is
Cutting up
Cutting down
Cutting through.

Breaking chains
Silver dipped
Cutting hard and heavy
Away from my heart.
Free
To receive
Love.