Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Hurricane Mind Power
It has been a while since I have posted an electronic blog, but today I'm feeling as if it is necessary.
Today I woke up feeling angsty and a bit uneasy from a dream I had, and the weather patterns occuring on the east coast itself. Hurricane Sandy has hit, and is turning lives upside down. Here in Detroit, we're dealing with high winds, rain, and a chilly chilly atmosphere. Atop of that we are still dealing with foreclosure, eviction, crime, violence, poverty, deportation of our citizens, hate, rape, and death.
Standing on my solidarity soap box, I continue to turn the cheek, puff my chest out and bare down for the next round of community assistance I can help with.
Today when I was expecting to take it easy, and manage some things around my house, I got a call for help. A local woman was being evicted from her home, and was in need of hot food, space heaters, blankets and community love. Some local super heros, and movers came to assist her in getting her things out of her said foreclosed home, and I handled the hot food side of things.
A friend and fellow community activist informed me of the assistance needed and was to come pick up the hot food and care package I had prepared.
Care package:
New space heater
Two blankets
Sweaters
Toilet paper
Napkins
Cutlery
Hot Local Vegetarian home cooked food
Love
When they arrived I could not help but invite them inside to eat, and prepare them some hot tea. The seven of them took a seat at my dining room table and ate like they had not in days. I put on a tea kettle and we began to chit chat; stories were shared, smiles were had, and when they finished I was asked to enter a gratitude circle.
Me, being in a funky mood until I put all the love I had into the pan of food,
agreed and stepped bravely into the circle - accepting what they had to give.
Each of these super heros went around and told me how I inspired them, and how grateful they were for me. This made me, fill with joy and only want to explode with love beams all over thier faces.
The underground network within this city is similiar to that of the underground railroad. If you need assistance, and solidarity - a network of folks are ready for your call; and waiting to help.
Where else can you find that?
This city amazes me everyday.
And I am ever so thankful to be a part of it.
I suppose I'm losing my train of thought, here wearing a grin so wide my face feels like it could split.
I guess all this post was meant to express was,
Solidarity, and Fellowship from fellow human beings is the way we will get through this second depression, this sorry scraping episode the city is still going through, and everyday life.
Power to the people.
Power to Detroit(ers).
<3
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Detroit - A soulful city with a heart of gold & a mind of a felon.
Why we're left again, questioning taxes and city residents upheaving from the mouth of Detroit; I know not and I know all at the same time.
Trusting intuition, I go with it, pack my things and move further into the heart of the city.
An even more cultural, and ethnic area, that is also "Bankrupt" and going downhill.
It is the mere act of this that will help save the city.
Contributing to Urban Gardening, Community Service, and helping my fellow man, I too have pride and a pedestal for my city that I call home. Detroit.
I care not what news broadcasters, magazine articles & nay sayers have to say about my town.
Yes the population is down to it's lowest since the 1920's, but to me this says, ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT.
Must we always navigate towards the NEGATIVE?
It is the youth of today that will save this city; that will bring the light and vibrations to a higher much more positive realm. Together we must stand hand in hand and make a difference; even if it is painting a little graffiti art on a wall Instilling in passer byers TO NOT LITTER if they love their city. Even if it is pitching it to clean up an old field and plant some flowers for a much prettier and greener area in the community. Even if it is writing ONE letter to the city letting them know there is an abandon home that childeren can be hurt inside of, in your neighborhood.
Suburbanites: Do not fear the city, or the "hooligans" in it. Don't let them overturn our MOTOR CITY into a MOTOR MOUTH of Bullshit.
It's time to take our city back, and make peace with what was, and what is to be.
Viva Detroit Revolution.
Trusting intuition, I go with it, pack my things and move further into the heart of the city.
An even more cultural, and ethnic area, that is also "Bankrupt" and going downhill.
It is the mere act of this that will help save the city.
Contributing to Urban Gardening, Community Service, and helping my fellow man, I too have pride and a pedestal for my city that I call home. Detroit.
I care not what news broadcasters, magazine articles & nay sayers have to say about my town.
Yes the population is down to it's lowest since the 1920's, but to me this says, ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT.
Must we always navigate towards the NEGATIVE?
It is the youth of today that will save this city; that will bring the light and vibrations to a higher much more positive realm. Together we must stand hand in hand and make a difference; even if it is painting a little graffiti art on a wall Instilling in passer byers TO NOT LITTER if they love their city. Even if it is pitching it to clean up an old field and plant some flowers for a much prettier and greener area in the community. Even if it is writing ONE letter to the city letting them know there is an abandon home that childeren can be hurt inside of, in your neighborhood.
Suburbanites: Do not fear the city, or the "hooligans" in it. Don't let them overturn our MOTOR CITY into a MOTOR MOUTH of Bullshit.
It's time to take our city back, and make peace with what was, and what is to be.
Viva Detroit Revolution.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Snapping
Popping
Bang Bang Bang.
The whole neighborhood grows silent
The childeren stop laughing
the dogs stop barking
and the smell of barbeque draws out of the air
pants low
hats lower
skies grey
hopes greyer
wondering who's going to be widowed next?
Walking alone
scared but brave enough
artistic and invinceable
creative and destructable
female
white
target
stop questioning
pressuring
assuming you know the end outcome
hoping to hear the right answer
which answer is right?
who knows anything about anyone here
who knows were here?
screaming, smiling, laughing, living.
loathing the upper hand that lay us down
to sleep at night
to not peep at night
smokey clubs and smokier lungs
tattered shoes from dancing
so much
cluttered minds, and thumping hearts
standing outside, jump starting cars
ghettos, getting more ghetto as time turns
fading reality, which way do I turn?
Detroit, Detroit.
You've never fallen off my map.
Detroit, land of opportunity?
Well how about that...
Popping
Bang Bang Bang.
The whole neighborhood grows silent
The childeren stop laughing
the dogs stop barking
and the smell of barbeque draws out of the air
pants low
hats lower
skies grey
hopes greyer
wondering who's going to be widowed next?
Walking alone
scared but brave enough
artistic and invinceable
creative and destructable
female
white
target
stop questioning
pressuring
assuming you know the end outcome
hoping to hear the right answer
which answer is right?
who knows anything about anyone here
who knows were here?
screaming, smiling, laughing, living.
loathing the upper hand that lay us down
to sleep at night
to not peep at night
smokey clubs and smokier lungs
tattered shoes from dancing
so much
cluttered minds, and thumping hearts
standing outside, jump starting cars
ghettos, getting more ghetto as time turns
fading reality, which way do I turn?
Detroit, Detroit.
You've never fallen off my map.
Detroit, land of opportunity?
Well how about that...
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Self Realization.
Hello cold air, colder snow and even colder wood floors.
Here in Detroit, it's gusts of snow filled wind, and chills up the spine.
As you shuffle your feet across the white dusted pavement running to your car,
you can only hope there's not a thirty dollar ticket sitting on your windshield due to the meter eating your quarters, and saying it's expired.
Wiping the snow from your face and squinting your eyes you see a Tavern,
and in you go, into the warmth, for a warm cup of coffee with a warm shot of Jameson.
Ah, Life, it happens boy.
And it happens the hardest when you're least expecting it.
The bartender is an old bar marm, says she's worked there twenty one years & is pretty quick on the coffee refills. The whole place smells of barbeque chicken and beer, the windows steamed up just around the edges and the hum of the t.v. and juke box sent a vibration around the bar that created a comfortable feeling, just enough to be good in your seat, with your drink in your hand, and conversation in your mouth. And, we wait.
The car is covered in snow at this point, there are notes all over it: PLEASE DO NOT TOW: CAR BROKE DOWN, WENT FOR HELP WILL RETURN. , WILL RETURN - METER BROKEN WENT FOR HELP- PLEASE DO NOT TICKET OR TOW., two hours in the pub and the occasional checking out the window to ensure it wasnt being towed, and its time to go peek at it see if any tickets or guff has been done to it....and BAM, thirty dollars for a no standing zone after six p.m, and the snow had covered all of the notes.....aye yae yae, somebody get me a tow truck.
Fish and chips, even though I'm a vegetarian, something's different in the air tonight..
There's more to this car conundrum than sitting around all day, this is some sort of transition....I just havent figured it out yet.
Detroit, you're a despicably magical place....aren't you?
Here in Detroit, it's gusts of snow filled wind, and chills up the spine.
As you shuffle your feet across the white dusted pavement running to your car,
you can only hope there's not a thirty dollar ticket sitting on your windshield due to the meter eating your quarters, and saying it's expired.
Wiping the snow from your face and squinting your eyes you see a Tavern,
and in you go, into the warmth, for a warm cup of coffee with a warm shot of Jameson.
Ah, Life, it happens boy.
And it happens the hardest when you're least expecting it.
The bartender is an old bar marm, says she's worked there twenty one years & is pretty quick on the coffee refills. The whole place smells of barbeque chicken and beer, the windows steamed up just around the edges and the hum of the t.v. and juke box sent a vibration around the bar that created a comfortable feeling, just enough to be good in your seat, with your drink in your hand, and conversation in your mouth. And, we wait.
The car is covered in snow at this point, there are notes all over it: PLEASE DO NOT TOW: CAR BROKE DOWN, WENT FOR HELP WILL RETURN. , WILL RETURN - METER BROKEN WENT FOR HELP- PLEASE DO NOT TICKET OR TOW., two hours in the pub and the occasional checking out the window to ensure it wasnt being towed, and its time to go peek at it see if any tickets or guff has been done to it....and BAM, thirty dollars for a no standing zone after six p.m, and the snow had covered all of the notes.....aye yae yae, somebody get me a tow truck.
Fish and chips, even though I'm a vegetarian, something's different in the air tonight..
There's more to this car conundrum than sitting around all day, this is some sort of transition....I just havent figured it out yet.
Detroit, you're a despicably magical place....aren't you?
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Being a fly on the wall: Breakfast in Midtown.
It’s Saturday Morning, I’ve cancelled my morning appointments and have decided to snag a bite to eat before I take my puppy to the vet. A mile or two down the street is the Midtown, neighborhood , That’s where I’m heading in for Lunch.
Ah, Good Girls Go to Paris Crepes.
I had a bit of an issue with the parking meter on my way in,
I emptied my pockets of change into one meter, and it never changed status from expired. Even the parking meters are shiest-y here. Digging down deep in the bottom of my bag, I can feel my nails scraping against crumpled paper, old mint wrappers, and pins trying to push my way through to the coin, only to empty it into the other meter. Finally!, one that works. I pull my car up to the meter with “time” on it and proceed to walk up to the local crepery. As I approach, the smells dance their way over to the my nostrils and swirl around each one with anticipation. Motown’s playing overhead & all the women working behind the counter are wearing knit caps & black aprons, sporting imperfect but absolutely beautiful smiles. The customers all fit the bill, each from a different walk of life, some sort of artist, entrepreneur, music or bass head, a family of three in the corn it er, eating and still looking over the menu in awe, and me in the corner…like a fly on the wall….overseeing it all, life in the city.
It breathes, it smells, it feels, it is.
Good Saturday Morning Midtown, We’re off to a good start with the Annette Crepe.
Across the crepery from me is a table of five men, probably in their thirties.
Theyre telling the waitress how they are in town,and here, “studying” Detroit; how interesting this statement is to me. “Studying, Detroit?” Almost insulted, I swallow the lump in my throat and take another sip of coffee. There’s veterans of the city, “studying” Detroit, and representing it to the world, screaming to be heard, and no one looks but fellow Detroiters, yet, a group of electronic heads from another state come in with cameras and paper bracelets stamped by a company and now it’s time to listen to the man on the soap box?
Something is wrong here.
A few minutes pass by into me not noticing any real activity because I’m knee deep in my crepe, it’s so good. I look up to realize the entire restaurant is with these five men,, when they begin talking to all of them. Theres about 20 people here from out of town “Studying” Detroit. Now, I start to see the beauty in it.
Here I sit confused sipping on my luke warm coffee staring at this group of people crowd around a computer looking for directions around the city….to see whats next.
The man directing them on how to get around has a german accent, and non oe them look to be of the same decsent. Where are they from? And what are they doing in our ghost town city?
Detroiters aren’t always the friendliest of welcome committees, we know what we have and don’t want trespassers treading too heavily on our territory.
Maybe it’s just me, but I sit on the fence on that one, but sure am curious as hell as to where this group is going.
Maybe I’ll trail them a bit, just to see….
Ah, Good Girls Go to Paris Crepes.
I had a bit of an issue with the parking meter on my way in,
I emptied my pockets of change into one meter, and it never changed status from expired. Even the parking meters are shiest-y here. Digging down deep in the bottom of my bag, I can feel my nails scraping against crumpled paper, old mint wrappers, and pins trying to push my way through to the coin, only to empty it into the other meter. Finally!, one that works. I pull my car up to the meter with “time” on it and proceed to walk up to the local crepery. As I approach, the smells dance their way over to the my nostrils and swirl around each one with anticipation. Motown’s playing overhead & all the women working behind the counter are wearing knit caps & black aprons, sporting imperfect but absolutely beautiful smiles. The customers all fit the bill, each from a different walk of life, some sort of artist, entrepreneur, music or bass head, a family of three in the corn it er, eating and still looking over the menu in awe, and me in the corner…like a fly on the wall….overseeing it all, life in the city.
It breathes, it smells, it feels, it is.
Good Saturday Morning Midtown, We’re off to a good start with the Annette Crepe.
Across the crepery from me is a table of five men, probably in their thirties.
Theyre telling the waitress how they are in town,and here, “studying” Detroit; how interesting this statement is to me. “Studying, Detroit?” Almost insulted, I swallow the lump in my throat and take another sip of coffee. There’s veterans of the city, “studying” Detroit, and representing it to the world, screaming to be heard, and no one looks but fellow Detroiters, yet, a group of electronic heads from another state come in with cameras and paper bracelets stamped by a company and now it’s time to listen to the man on the soap box?
Something is wrong here.
A few minutes pass by into me not noticing any real activity because I’m knee deep in my crepe, it’s so good. I look up to realize the entire restaurant is with these five men,, when they begin talking to all of them. Theres about 20 people here from out of town “Studying” Detroit. Now, I start to see the beauty in it.
Here I sit confused sipping on my luke warm coffee staring at this group of people crowd around a computer looking for directions around the city….to see whats next.
The man directing them on how to get around has a german accent, and non oe them look to be of the same decsent. Where are they from? And what are they doing in our ghost town city?
Detroiters aren’t always the friendliest of welcome committees, we know what we have and don’t want trespassers treading too heavily on our territory.
Maybe it’s just me, but I sit on the fence on that one, but sure am curious as hell as to where this group is going.
Maybe I’ll trail them a bit, just to see….
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