My band (Telenovela Star) is playing a show this Friday, and I must admit that I’m a little nervous. Nervous, because it’s been a year since we’ve played out in front of anyone. The feeling kind of reminds me of when I performed for the first time.
It was for a Carnival event that my elementary school put on. I was like six or seven, and I was competing in the Calypso Competition. I remember staying up late the night before practicing with my dad. He wrote the lyrics and the melody. I remember thinking that it was a really cool song. I had dance moves. I even had back-up singers, awesome. Most of all, I had my dad singing to me. I’d look him in the eyes, while he sang the song to me. That was the best part.
When it was my turn to sing, I was completely terrified. I was so afraid. When I got on stage, I totally froze up and couldn’t remember the song that I lived and breathed for months. Honestly, maybe a shot would have calmed me down.
Anyway, DJ Mojo is responsible for my band’s end of hibernation. Our last show for ‘08 was in celebration of his birthday. And we’re doing it again, this Friday. We’re playing July 3rd at 11:00pm at the Delancey. If you’re in the city, come celebrate and see me freak out!
The first day of Summer, when parks are peopled
we smile at each other for no particular reason
other than the darkness has been lifted
like we were taking off our clothes.
Funny though, since we’re ashamed of the sight
of nakedness. But here we are when the air is thick
and bodies play in the sun barely clothed.
We are exhibitionists teasing each other
and ourselves with these desires.
She lives in fear. Fear of the front door not being locked, even though she checked it three times and almost missed the elevator; the iron left on, losing her essentials: her keys, her wallet, her phone, her ipod being left behind. She has a routine.
Everyday, she says out loud, “I locked the door”. She checks her pockets numerous times for the keys, ipod, phone and wallet. She closes her eyes and goes back in time to when she unplugged the iron and put it away. The iron and the door are the most difficult, since the urge to check could never be satisfied once she’s left the apartment. She did once consider calling the Super asking him to check her front door. But she didn’t.
She revisits these moments again and again. Even if she’s late, she stops to do these little things. But what she fears most is the day they will discover her secret. The police will be waiting to ambush her at Fun Time Toys, where she’s a Sales Associate, or late one night while she’s walking home. What would she say to her boss, or better yet what would she say to Eva?
Jordan was meeting her lover at a theater on 86th and West End Avenue. They were going to see a performance. Jordan was early and Eva as usual was comfortably late. So Jordan decided to walk around the neighborhood, maybe find a bookstore or a coffee shop to sit and read. She found a chain bookstore. She awkwardly went in, hyper-vigilant as the security guard looked her up and down. She nervously played with her left earlobe.
Knowing that the bookstore had a coffee bar with a seating area, Jordan headed straight there. It was packed with readers. Tense, she pretended to be cool walking to the nearest section, Photography, casually glancing through the aisle. She thought maybe finding a corner where she could just sit and read her book would be enough, but nowhere looked appealing. She returned to the coffee bar, her face bathed in sweat. Luckily, there was an empty chair. She sat between two people perusing books.
Shaking her left leg, she uncertainly pulled her book out from her satchel. Her leg stopped as her eyes stared intensely at the book. She suddenly had an epiphany of sorts which made her incredibly self-conscious. Looking around, Jordon thought if she now tried to leave with her book, it could possibly be mistaken for theft, and her secret exposed.
She assumed no one would believe the book was indeed hers. Quickly, as her left leg continued with its rapid shaking, she flipped the pages searching for the receipt, but to no avail. Stopping to pull on her earlobe, she then rummaged through her satchel hoping that the receipt may have slipped out. There was nothing but a wool scarf, fingerless gloves and a battered journal. Just then her right leg joined in the shaking.
She believed that even though she was dressed “properly”: a button down shirt, clean sneakers and pressed trousers, she was still in a ritzier part of town. She was still black, still showing off on her right forearm the tail end of a red dragon sleeve tattoo, still generally assumed to be a guy, still suspect, and still had a secret.
“But what about all these people, surely there’s someone here who brought their book just to read? And besides, an alarm won’t go off if I walked out with MY BOOK, right?!” Jordan said to herself trying to calm down and read in peace, but reading was impossible, as she constantly reached for her earlobes. “That may be true,” the rant went on in her head, “but I purchased the book at another branch, which means it most likely is in stock. And besides myself, there’s one other black person in the store.” She looked across to the periodical section and stared at an artsy looking gentleman thumbing through a New Yorker. She then reminded herself, “This isn’t the 1930s…. And it is New York City.”
Jordan still couldn’t help but think she’d be arrested for stealing, because someone saw her put a book, hers, in her satchel. She imagined the plain clothes cop standing by the staircase, with his gun clipped to his side, would stop her and she’d be escorted to a backroom, where she’d be given one phone call. She’d call Eva of course hoping to explain everything before the police exposed her secret. She’d have to tell Eva the truth. It’s then and there she would lose everything. The life that she wanted to have with Eva would vanish with just that phone call.
“Or maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Since they’re thinking black guy/woman stealing a book. And nothing about my past will come up. I’d call Eva and once again her whiteness would justify the reason I am in an all white environment.”
She thought it would be like the time when they started dating. Jordan had gone to a party with Eva in Maryland. She remembers the stares and how she wondered which was it: was it because she was black, or was it because she was black, looked like a dude and was with Eva? She remembers the one guy drunk enough to reveal his true opinions. A friend of Eva’s from high school. He questioned Jordon as to whether or not the jacket she was searching through was really hers. She was looking for her lighter. If it wasn’t for Eva’s intervention, things may have ended badly.
Jordan continued to imagine the worst, and instead of being hauled to the backroom, she’d be asked to pay for the book. She checked for her wallet, for cash and her visa card. “That’s ridiculous paying twice for the same book. And the shame… Being called a thief… If only I remembered where I put the goddamned receipt.” She knew she kept it somewhere. “Where is it?”
All this time, Jordan was pretending to read as both legs were shaking, and once in a while she pulled at her left earlobe. She wondered if the white woman sitting next to her would ever feel suspected and think like this? “I wonder if I were white, would I still feel this way? Probably not. I wouldn’t think about race, maybe class… Maybe I’m just too paranoid. I mean, Obama is President…!
I could just leave the book on the coffee table. But I really want to read it and I’m not buying another copy. I could borrow it from the library, but I love marking off my favorite passages, phrases…” Jordan’s time was up, as she agreed to meet Eva at the theater for 7:00pm and it was now 6:50. She supposed, if she got up and left the book, she wouldn’t draw suspicion. “But it may look incriminating if I just leave it there when it was in my bag. It may appear that I thought about stealing the book and at the last moment decided not to. Ugh, well I can casually leave it on a shelf.”
Jordan got up, put her satchel over her shoulder, and she walked to the literature section to shelve her book. She told herself that it was the best thing to do, but at the same time she couldn’t believe she had succumbed to such fear.
“Maybe one day I’d look back and laugh, a very sour laugh. Who really steal books these days?” she thought.
I recieved it in the mail today
my very thin self-addressed envelope
not today I said out loud, not today
for you see, I’ve already felt the day to day
crippling blow, as I made my trek through
the drudges, through the thick mundane
automatic motions. I have failed as a robot.
Regardless, I thought and grinned for chance
there’s still the possibility… Aah yes the optimist
with her tireless audacity, with her juvenile beliefs
full of maybes, could be dreams floating like clouds
waiting to be caught, oblivious to the message in the
note starkly staring back: thank you, but no thanks.
play that guitar
hit me that drum
forget de cost
for living hike
forget money
tight, grab lover
spin her around
sing she something
nothing too nice
let she feel de
heat, and yelp
holler all night
play that guitar
hit me that drum
forget de cost
for living hike
lets howl and dance
to the moon light
lets howl and dance
til the sunrise
clap those hands, shim
shimmer those hips
clap those hands, shim
shimmer those hips
kick those boots off
let me kiss you
on the lips, pinch
you on the thigh
spin you around
tell you i love
you three times, babe
you are all mine
Bisexual is a term I hear
while i’m unsure of the direction
the song is going to take
but then, I’m reassured by the chorus
that i’m straight
I’m okay now
Terry, this woman that I work with, she’s a dyke
button down shirt and tie, slacks, polished black shoes dyke
now i don’t have a problem with the gays
it’s just that Terry’s girlfriend looks just like me
pumps, pencil skirts, manicured nails, lipstick, pearl necklace
I wasn’t expecting this, it’s like a song with a familiar beginning
you know, something you can bob your head to, you know
and then all of a sudden it changes, and i’m unsure of the direction
the song is going to take… So I hold on for the chorus, for some kind of refrain:
i’m straight, i’m okay now.
she’s a dyke
button down
shirt and tie
slacks, polished
black shoes, dyke
a song with a familiar beginning
you know, something you can
bob your head to, you know
her woman looks
just like me
i wasn’t expecting
pumps
pencil skirt
manicured nails
lipstick, pearl necklace
I wasn’t expecting this bridge
this change in melody
irregular, I pause for the chorus
for some kind of refrain…
I am straight
I am, okay now
Bisexual is a term I listen to
play that guitar, hit that drum
grab your partner, pass de rum
forget de cost of living hike
forget how money tight.
grab your partner, spin her around
clap your hands, sing me a song
sing me something not too sweet
sing me something that feels my heat.
play that guitar, hit that drum
grab your partner, but pass me de rum
clap your hands, sing a song
nothing too sweet, but feels de heat.
forget de cost of living hike
forget how money so tight
lets dance to de moon light
lets dance til the morning light.
LOVE, LUST, SCI-FI & MONSTERS
TSTAR EP
