Well, that happened…
My momma came to LA. I don’t think I ever been so grateful for a layover. She was on her way home from the other side of the world. We chatted. She showed me pictures. I stared at her. Her skin, still a cool brown, but interestingly not as deep as I remember. Her bracelets, silver rope replacing years of trade beads. I took in her energy, for the first time, in my LA space. It was so cool.
I don’t see her enough.
Wait. WHAT?!!! Prince is on Spotify?
I’m giggly+screechy! No. Really, just screechy. All this Prince in one place. Go check your streaming palace of choice. Is he there?
(The picture above is a chopped and screwed snap from Purple Rain at Hollywood Forever last summer. )
Same problem. Different choices.
I’m bought a record player. This one. Not the one I planned, but it’ll do while I save for the other one. I know what you’re thinking, hell, I know what I’m thinking and I’m okay with that.
Game Over, Man. Game Over.
I’ve been watching the reboot of Training Day on CBS. The ghost of Denzel’s Alonzo looms large, talking madddd shit. Bill Paxton’s Detective Frank Rourke is more average antihero than engaging villain, which feels a bit worn at this point. I wish he was an asshole, otherwise it’s just a cranky cop vs. earnest cop anti-buddy cop show. I already watch cranky cop who might be doing bad things to get the bad guys on NBC. I don’t know if there’s room for another that doesn’t stand out. Look, I love Bill Paxton. Have since I was a kid. He gives good asshole. So, I might keep watching. Hoping for it. The other problem is that because Rourke is likable, Jason Cornwell’s Detective Kyle Craig ends up being a bit of an annoying killjoy. The show is familiar and watchable. It bats third show/emptied bottle of wine in the daily decompression lineup. It’s kinda just on.
The Academy Awards are this weekend. That means two things: I can’t go to my Sephora at Hollywood & Highland and I will be in my feelings with whatever happens for the amazingly talented cast and crew of Moonlight. I’ll see La La Land when they release the Hamilton DVD with the original cast. Just saying.
Cause it’s supposed to always be sunny and hasn’t been, I think I might be doing these things:
+ going to see Get Out.
+ stopping by my local where my favorite librarian is putting on event about racism.
+ not talking about incense making cause I’ve not done it, but need to.
+ taking pictures of things.
I can tell you where I bought my first issue of Wax Poetics. I was here, in LA, on vacation. We were at some sneaker shop on La Brea. He was eyeing the wares and I was looking at the pubs. WaxPo got the music dork in me mad giddy. Putting current obsessions in historical perspective. Turning me on to people, places and movements that inspired folks I respected.
I devoured it. Every page. Every article. Every photograph. Issue after issue. Until, I moved.
I guess I didn’t handle the big change that well. Honestly, there was a lot going on. When I left NYC, I shut down. I really wasn’t listening to anything or anyone that wasn’t already close to heart. I wasn’t going to shows. I wasn’t reading and making connections to why I love what I love.
Coming out of that space was slow going and I’m so excited to be open again.
The fix: i♥waxpoetics, hardcore. still.
I need the back issue bundle and a subscription. Loved that the issue on the stands when I was about to go to Jamaica for the first time was the Reggae Issue. It was in a carry-on by the door when we decided to postpone the trip and avoid a torrential downpour.(♥:When is that happening now?) I was curled up in a corner reading it a few weeks later in DC when my mom tells me she’s getting rid of her vinyl. I ended up all dust covered begging for EVERYTHING; flipping through more Gregory Issac’s records than I remembered she’d had.
If I don’t support what I dig, in whatever way I can, should I really expect it to be there when I find my way home? I don’t want there to be a next time to find out. Where’s my wallet?
So, I’m working on a post about collections inspired by artist Lisa Congdon’s A Collection A Day, 2010 project. I’ve been thinking about the things I brought with me from back east. I kinda have stuff, but I don’t actively collect. I just seem to keep some of the same kinds of things. I’m documenting the few that have interesting stories or that tend to send me off thought wandering.
I was looking through my LPs to see if there was anything I wanted to shoot, when I realized that I hadn’t touched the 45s in ages. I didn’t even know what was there.
I couldn’t believe what I found. Just after Antidisestablishmentarianism, was Micheal Jackson’s Thriller leaning against the Purple Cat below. It was this moment where I saw Junior High Me & Record Store Clerk Me giving each other the head nod of recognition as they passed each other in my memory.