There is nothing like raw talent straight from the streets. I remember a chubby old black guy in overalls whose voice was a mix of louis armstrong, sam cooke, and a splash of sammy davis jr. that would sing everyday in the subway (how he fit that piano down there, i will never know) on my way to my 2nd internship. He stole my heart and I sure miss him! This movement reminded me of people like him, Playing for Change is a multimedia movement created to inspire, connect, and bring peace to the world through music. give em’ love!
The Brooklyn sky set on a night meant for things other than celebration. On a night where she was halfway home and halfway lost.In the kitchen that morning, she left behind four eggs boiling on the stove with the windows open. The morning sun seemed so distant last night. Fleeting memories of red lips pressed on a glass of rose, telling lies that somehow felt right. Knowing well, careless laughter would only hide her truth for a little while. He told her, you are the one who will tell them what it means to see a sunset on the rooftop of this third story apartment. He kissed her forehead and sang her a silly little lullaby about how in this city, life isn’t what it seems. The pretty little broken girl smiled and believed it. She’s been that way for quite a while——-A believer of sorts. That night, afraid of being stripped of her being, she faithfully prayed four times for her soul to break free. The first to Jah, The second to Jesus, The third to Allah, and the fourth to the daddy that was never around. Waiting for someone to respond atop the swirling skies and tell her everything would be alright. Wishing she could just disappear like the smoke at the loose end of his cigarette. And she did as he took her where the sinners danced and angels wept. In the kitchen this morning, she picked up the 2,000 little pieces of herself left behind and closed the window. Got up, brushed herself off, said she wasn’t the type. Hiding herself behind a red velvet smile, she told him she’s seen better days than Brooklyn.
“ I’m no martyr. I did it for the money. But it’s not worth much if you can’t face yourself in the mirror. Respect is the ultimate currency. I was stealing from a man who traded his away for a few dollars. And then he tried to wash away his guilt. Drown it in a lifetime of good deeds and a sea of respectability. It almost worked, too. But inevitably, the further you run from your sins, the more exhausted you are when they catch up to you. And they do. Certain. It will not fail.
Inside Man, 2006
Grandson:
A fight is going on inside me. It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.
Old Cherokee:
My son, the battle is between two wolves is inside us all.
--One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.--The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.
“ Romance does not always have to be sensible. We’re all far too sensible these days, given that the economy and the media seem to being competing to make us feel dreary. In fact, all this bad news has done a good job of making each of us, no matter how financially secure, feel a bit like a Cinders-girl, hiding out in the kitchen in a precarious job with little prospects.
barnes and nobles review, April 2009
Lynn Hirschberg, NYTIMES speaks with Alber Elbaz, artistic director of Lanvin in Paris. Oh, Alber with your sweet bowties and to-die-for collections, you’re one of the only reasons I don’t give up on fashion completely. You get it.
“There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter—the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last—the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion…..
All dwellers in cities must live with the stubborn fact of annihilation; in New York the fact is somewhat more concentrated because of the concentration of the city itself, and because, of all targets, New York has a certain clear priority. In the mind of whatever perverted dreamer might loose the lightning, New York must hold a steady, irresistible charm.”
I think I found my style twin. Meet the little star from Sydney. He is reason enough to want a baby, I’d dress mine in this and call him Sammie Davis. AWWWWWW.
Clementine:
Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a fucked-up girl who's lookin' for my own peace of mind; don't assign me yours.
“ A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…
Eat Pray Love, Elizabeth Gilbert
Wednesday night found me switching between Bravo’s A-List Awards and a show called, The Deadliest Warrior. The battle between a samurai vs. viking was much more impressive then the tongue battle between Kathy Griffin and Audrey O’Day (post Danity Kane, post whore.) I have been always been highly interested in Eastern philosophy due to my black-belt-brother’s obsession with Asia since the age of 5. I feel the eastern way is a much more organic way of living. Through watching the show, I had one of my, “I need some Bruce Lee in my life” moments. I was skimming through BL’s Striking Thoughts- Personal Liberation, Pg. 161 and I found this parable to be so very fitting to my current state of…. less IS more.
“A learned man once went to a Zen master to inquire about Zen. As the Zen master talked, the learned man would frequently interrupt him with remarks like, “Oh yes, we have too,” etc. Finally the Zen master stopped talking and began to serve tea to the learned man; however, he kept on pouring until the teacup overflowed. ” Enough, no more can go into the cup!” the learned man interrupted. “Indeed I see,” answered the Zen master. “But if you do not first empty your cup, then how can you taste my cup of tea?”
