tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67366302024-03-07T18:57:38.722-05:00whats a shanasty?.thoughts.sentence manipulation.distraction.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.comBlogger185125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-6518650117493060042010-12-28T23:22:00.002-05:002010-12-28T23:33:32.435-05:00care.lessi am "djing"<br />which really means i'm standing in the dj booth looking online and thinking about life.<br />i have few of these nights left. here at bar 13 in union square in new york city on a tuesday night.<br />am i to cherish these moments...<br />but are these not the moments i'll remember in my last days?<br />or maybe i'll remember the characters i've come across.<br />recently i've come to know a young man across the street at 'little italy pizza'.<br />its a relatively new spot - relative to the 5 or so years i've been at bar 13 every tuesday.<br />i think it used to be a bagel place but was never open late.<br />for the past two or six months (never can tell) i've been going there after "work" to get a slice of pizza...this has contradicted my daily exercise and healthy food routine. <br />the young man behind the counter is always friendly. bright blue eyes and a great smile. he is very inviting and considerate and genuinely wants to know how i am and how my "work" was. i am always polite and increasingly friendly as i've come to know him.<br />although he is a new friend, i recognize that he will not be a friend for long.<br />and that enables me to recognize the many people i've met in this life. <br />this new york city life.<br /><br />so to you, young man that works across the street who i'll likely visit in 2 hours this very evening, i wish you a beautiful healthy life - one filled with joy, adventure, knowledge, love, excitement and accomplishment. i wish that you - when the time has come - will lay back and be content and grateful for all that you've seen in this world.<br />for these wishes i pray for you, i hope for myself as well, and for all those i love and who have touched me in my life.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-71312636526117149322010-11-02T22:50:00.002-04:002010-11-02T23:33:43.020-04:00bringin it in, two thousand elev...inMajor decisions spark drastic change and innovation.<br /><br />The end of *snapshot* is near...so very near in fact I can smell a Tuesday night without the obligation of being at a club.<br /><br />My thirty first...o shit did I just say that...ahem, my thirty first birthday was last week.<br />I decided to close *snapshot*, to move out of my apartment and to re-organize my focus.<br /><br />damn.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-57156579164508589462010-08-20T02:18:00.004-04:002010-08-20T02:35:49.719-04:00Time CapsuleI often think about taking this blog down.<br />Its not much of a "blog" as blogs have come to be known.<br />When it first began, my friend Jodi was writing about her daily life and it was something fun to do at work. After I read the Post from cover to cover, had my coffee and breakfast, taken down all of the messages from the night before, I'd read her blog. It was then that I decided to start writing my own.<br />I never intended much of it. I simply wanted to chronicle my life using words on a page - a page that I could access just about anywhere and that my friends and those who might be mentioned in the pages could access.<br />Times have changed. <br />It is over six years since I began this project. <br />I am thirty years old.<br />When I began, I had not yet begun law school.<br />I was working as a receptionist at an audio post production house in Flatiron.<br />I was living in a very small apartment in the east village.<br />I had not yet started the weekly queer party that was soon to consume the next six years of my life.<br />Both of my grandparents were still alive.<br />I was dating a child and did not know or think to know better.<br />George Bush was president.<br />The train was $2.00.<br /><br />What sticks out most in my mind is what I recall of my eager outlook on the world.<br />It was truly as if I could do or be anything I wanted, and I honestly believed it would happen.<br /><br />I was young, ambitious, effortlessly creative and eager to begin my journey.<br /><br />-----<br /><br />I will not remove the blog today, but one day I will.<br />And like most things in my life, it will simply be a thing of my past. <br />Something that has helped me grow, has acted as an outlet, and has supported who I was at that period.<br />And though I am feeling quite nostalgic at this moment, I'm sure the next thing I move on to will satisfy that part of me just as well if not better.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-49061865018172320552009-12-18T12:01:00.003-05:002009-12-18T12:22:42.647-05:00crispwhether its the weather <br />sharpening the air I breath<br />or the shorter days pressuring my needs<br /><br />I feel myself, separate and apart from anything<br />separate and apart from anyone<br />and totally intertwined with what I want done<br /><br />The goals seem closer<br />The life, fuller<br /><br />The movements seem swifter<br />The thoughts, no filter<br /><br />and on to the next<br />choose your own adventure<br />new chapter, new bookshanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-78725719632584446752009-11-23T13:47:00.003-05:002009-11-23T15:06:01.457-05:00Turn the pageSome fruit turns sour<br />if not picked when ripe<br /><br />Some boats set sail<br />in the middle of the night<br /><br />Some opportunities <br />disappear out of sight<br /><br />We are bound by our decisions<br />whether wrong or right<br /><br />...<br /><br />But now, <br />After breaths deep have been exhaled<br />After hair pulled has been discarded<br />After options reviewed and fantasies shattered, <br />Only now can we turn the page.<br />Turn to the future, the reality of what can be...and as a result, will be.<br /><br />Each day we move closer to who we are, sit more comfortably in our skin, walk upright with dedication to the pull of certainty.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-57190958108029595082009-11-05T22:50:00.002-05:002009-11-05T23:41:51.096-05:00reelingI said goodbye, again<br />Again and again and again...so it has been<br /><br />But what I wanted to tell you, the words that came out of my mouth, were truths, honest reflections of my growth. Maybe it wasn't enough.<br /><br />Because, apparently, I just sit there while you do all the talking. <br />So maybe this time it was my turn to open up, to express. I'm sure I fell short, <br />Again.<br /><br />I guess I always do, fall short that is. Fall short of making you happy, fall short of giving you what you want or what you need. Which is why I had to turn away.<br /><br />Can't you see? I knew all the wrong I was doing. I recognized it. I hesitated leaving because I was selfish, because I wanted you all to myself...like squeezing a puppy till you hurt it knowing you might be hurting it, but being overcome with excitement and the urge to squeeze...I hurt you. <br /><br />And now I think you'll resent me for everything. But that doesnt hurt as much as knowing that I hurt you. <br /><br />If you must, please...resent me. If it makes you whole, if resentment or regret helps heal you, I accept it with all that I am.<br /><br />And its enough already, I know that as well. Enough going back and forth. For both of us.<br /><br />So, here is the big test. Not whether I can recognize that I'm hurting you and leave, not whether I can try to make anything up to you or prove that I actually have cared from the beginning, but the test is whether I can truly respect your wishes. Whether I can let you go. Let you be...dont call you, dont text you, dont think about you, somehow block you from my dreams, erase your face from my memory when I hear a song that reminds me of you, not run into you, and throughout, respecting your space and your growth.<br /><br />That would make me feel better about myself because I'd finally be putting you first. That might, somehow, redeem the pain you've suffered at my hands.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-6785251509940270052009-02-22T11:36:00.004-05:002009-02-22T11:50:20.436-05:00Colorado HoloradoThe trip began in a frenzy.<br /><br />Court in the morning, rushing all day, <br />I was trying to beat the clock.<br /><br />Little did I know that it was out of my hands<br />and the clock, it almost beat me.<br /><br />Sitting in a cab, checking the time, <br />traffic at rush hour on the BQE.<br /><br />Asking the cabby what he thought, then he laughed, <br />should have left early.<br /><br />Rush through the door bag in hand, beg the lady at the counter to let me in,<br />she says "no worries love, you've got plenty of time, its those folks in denver that are on their grind".<br /><br />Plenty of time was right, as she said, I sat and ate food while the plane was prepared.<br /><br />Passed out cold upon take off, though I still had plenty to do.<br /><br />Awoke sometime later, with more work on my mind <br />next thing I knew we were descending right on time.<br /><br />Met up with the fam, quite a feet to get together,<br />Tara, Alex, Nate and Sam, the Perez fam kickin it cold like the weather.<br /><br />2 hour shuttle, McDonalds and some smokes, back to the grind on the ride.<br />Arrive at the condo, Dino in sleep duds, convo's and beer, then back to the grind.<br /><br />I was up till 4am, thats 6am NYC time.<br />Work work work work work work work. Passed out for a couple of hours.<br /><br />Jumped on the lift scared at first, thought I'd fall and hit my face, <br />Landed it smooth felt a surge of confidence, i was ready for the day.<br /><br />At first we stayed as a group and rode, slowing and waiting for the crew<br />then it soon became apparent that my 7 year absence had really not affected my flow.<br /><br />The next day we rode, Alex me and Gabe and shredded the whole mountain wide<br />Not stopping for a break, think we did Christmas in 4 minutes, holy shit did we ride.<br /><br />Dinner and drinks and memories for days...these trips mean so much more<br />so much more than a bougie condo and a fancy ski resort, <br />so much more than a few days away from work and the daily,<br />so much more than a get together with some family members you dont always see, <br />truly, really, these are the moments that make us, the moments that form our foundations, mold our beliefs and experiences, create the person we are at that moment.<br /><br />These are the moments that matter.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-50801108168534982672009-02-10T03:14:00.003-05:002009-02-10T03:27:07.015-05:00sitting in the 'lacanother day another dolla<br />but it...makes me wanna holla<br /><br />still i find a new way<br />open the shades to a sunglasses day<br /><br />drinking beers with you<br />takes me back to memories i have few<br /><br />its all about me tho<br />cuz i cant see through this tinted window<br /><br />the unknown is deeply blinding<br />dont really wonder who's pulling the string<br /><br />more social is as social does<br />more things get done without the was<br /><br />tiptoe splashes puddles abound<br />slightly less scared when you're around<br /><br />eager and anxious reappearing often<br />wiser and blatant my perception softens<br /><br />to write is to heal and expand and advance<br />to think is to leave most everything to chance<br /><br />sidways steps and backward alleys<br />kissing behind dumpsters and 7pm rallys<br /><br />this is the year I turn 30.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-83249222256514600522009-01-23T13:02:00.002-05:002009-01-23T13:08:03.806-05:00chokingdo you ever get emotional to the point where you choke back your tears in an effort to maintain calm because if you let it out you might just break into a billion little pieces?<br /><br />how can a word, an image, a sound, bring forth such intensity and passion so as to stand every hair on the back of your neck straight up, or cause a tingle on the tip of your tongue, or create a warmth deep in your belly?<br /><br />When was the last time you TRULY believed. <br /><br />In anything?<br /><br />Thank you Mr. President.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-13598019750595490692008-10-21T12:26:00.002-04:002008-10-21T12:34:58.767-04:00birthas the day grows nearer <br />i wish to regress<br /><br />back to the days i first fell in love so deep i drowned in it<br /><br />when i was first excited about a graduate education and the possibilities of a future<br /><br />when i was so careless my creativity sprung like leaks from a punctured hose<br /><br />when i was free to move about the country and the world as if i had no anchor<br /><br />when i dug deep and found out who i truly was amidst the confusion and growing up<br /><br />when i experienced so many things for the first time<br /><br />when i grew to make decisions on my own<br /><br />when i was john<br /><br />when i was nurtured and looked after<br /><br />when i was the joy and happiness brought to a loving family<br /><br />when i was in the womb, so warm and comforting<br /><br />--<br /><br />alas, these days move forward, often seemingly at the speed of light.<br />as i try to hold on, fingers tightly gripping the safety bars, i see only the things that truly matter. <br />I see that the fun times and the excitement and the "living" i once yearned for so bad, all these things are not what they seem. and all these things are nothing in light of the brightness that emanates from the true value of life and love. <br /><br />family, compassion, generosity, love, comfort, trust.<br /><br />as time seems to win the race against me, these are what i hold on to. these are what make me whole <br /><br />without them, i am empty.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-83890512197262995842008-10-21T12:12:00.002-04:002008-10-21T12:21:48.832-04:00DrowningWhat can i say<br />what can i do<br />is there any way <br />to get close to you<br /><br />its cold outside <br />where you stay<br />but my heart <br />is not far away<br /><br />i take a look<br />into your soul<br />as i walk around these streets of yours<br /><br />im drowning.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-74955822190764432892008-09-02T15:00:00.003-04:002008-09-02T15:05:51.710-04:00day 1its interesting that we, as a people who are controlled by our climate and surroundings, are triggered to feel certain things at different times of the year. Part of it is social - for example craving hot cocoa and turkey with cranberry when it starts to get cold. But some of it is our climate and weather change. so we're forced to recognize the end of summer after Labor Day and I hate it, officially.<br />Hate with a capital "H".<br /><br />My life was supposed to get organized today. So here we go...day 1.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-33601515038100646942008-08-25T14:44:00.002-04:002008-08-25T15:13:16.581-04:00BlueI'm blue<br />Da ba dee<br />Da ba doo<br />Da ba dee<br />Da ba doo<br />Da ba dee<br />Da ba doo.<br /><br />Conveniently, the sky is grey....so we kinda match.<br /><br />But I went camping this weekend and it was beautiful and sunny out. The sun was shining the whole way down the river while Butt Buddy and Bomber and I drank and smoked our way to the end of the river course...no rapids.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-23631159976538251072008-08-14T16:13:00.002-04:002008-08-14T16:19:15.229-04:00jackhammerWhy does work have to suck so bad?<br /><br />Salsa dancing in Newport News Virginia.<br /><br />Eating fresh coconut from a tree in Cockpit Country Jamaica.<br /><br />Taking pictures on the beach in San Diego California.<br /><br />Writing letters by the Charles river in Boston, Massachusetts.<br /><br />Climbing cliffs in Riomaggiore - Cinque Terre, Italy.<br /><br />Playing acoustic guitar in the woods at Michigan Womyns Festival, Michigan.<br /><br />Climbing the stairs up the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France.<br /><br />Sitting in my cubicle in New York, New York.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-77639364057487842552008-07-14T21:15:00.002-04:002008-07-14T21:23:05.027-04:00motion - etoday was gloomy.<br />I awoke to the sound of rain on my window and emptiness in my soul.<br />I knew there were tasks ahead of me and I wanted nothing to do with them.<br /><br />and I rode my bike.<br />uphill.<br />and the uphill seemed to last for miles. much longer than I was prepared for. so much uphill that Im not sure I reached a top, if there were ever a top.<br /><br />because, this is not about you, this is about me. and for me, its not about you, its about me.<br /><br />so why can't I stop thinking of you. is there anything left in me?<br /><br />supposedly the inspiration will come, the words will flow out of my mouth like vomit after too much Jameson's.<br /><br />Until then I clean, and keep busy, and think of ways to be inspired. <br /><br />What do I like to do? Where do I like to go?<br /><br />Why do I feel so fucking privileged - whining when I truly have it all. So much more than so many others. Im so sick of feeling sorry for myself. But I feel so lost its all I can muster to feel.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-83416826798650021392008-07-04T18:23:00.004-04:002008-07-04T18:57:57.667-04:00Independence Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.immspec.com/images/immspec_subpage_pic_186.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://www.immspec.com/images/immspec_subpage_pic_186.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Figures.<br />Im trying to decipher if this is independence from a life I've become accustomed to living, or if its regaining dependence on myself...because I've been independent from who I really am?<br /><br />Or is that what they're trying to brainwash me to think?<br />Why do emotions have so much to say...and why do they have such a strong grip on our impressions of reality?<br /><br />Its true though, nothing comes out clear anymore. The melodies don't seep from my brain onto paper or into a song. I sometimes feel as though I can glance down a long tube, or even a well, and deep in it is me. Far far from the body and daily tasks and "life" that keeps the other parts of me busy.<br /><br />It was strange, and I could almost feel it coming on. Like a dark grey storm cloud, but you're inside watching a movie so you dont really care. But after its been raining for months, you start to wonder.<br /><br />It began with those feelings like I was in quicksand. Like I'd try to get up and live, but it just wouldnt happen. At first I fought it as hard as I could. Then I grew accustomed to it, and felt quite satisfied being stuck.<br /><br />Now someone has shaken me...like I've been in a daze and someone snapped their fingers in front of my eyes. I'm still in that initial shock phase, looking around trying to figure out where I am, who I am, what Im doing. And I'm still half in the daze...so Im sort of hesitant to come out of it, because its comfortable in there. Warm and fuzzy, cozy and familiar. And I dont know whats out there when I come out of the daze. Is it anything like where I just was? Will I ever fall back into the daze? Whats really so wrong with the daze anyways?<br /><br />Ah yes, living. The thing I wasnt doing so well while in the daze. This is what is so wrong with my very recent previous state of mind.<br /><br />So this is a good thing, right? Yes. She said, he said, I said, they said.<br />I think the next step is to wake up. Take a big breath, stretch, splash some water on my face.<br /><br />I wonder if thats why I was having so much anxiety. Like my body trying to get me out of what ever parallel world I was in.<br /><br />Life is a fucking trip. Everything changes constantly. But this can be a good thing.<br /><br />This is a good thing.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-36855227553099295612008-05-21T16:44:00.004-04:002008-05-21T18:00:18.078-04:00Renaissance<span style="font-weight:bold;">Re-naissance.</span><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Re-birth.</span><br /><br />I have gone missing. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMwa4HLuF-avDi5ZIMtPJelWcpNgVvXrFbxLXC6-MdiLD-kbx2RJdZ8TkOFzKX6w3NvUlHtSFu3JFjnkGuItQOmQETVycivDPjg0zUK4UVfc67ZyFmqIDsLkpypvAVozWHOEuVw/s1600-h/CIMG0076.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMwa4HLuF-avDi5ZIMtPJelWcpNgVvXrFbxLXC6-MdiLD-kbx2RJdZ8TkOFzKX6w3NvUlHtSFu3JFjnkGuItQOmQETVycivDPjg0zUK4UVfc67ZyFmqIDsLkpypvAVozWHOEuVw/s200/CIMG0076.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202953638826729458" /></a><br />Lost in legal jargon and expectations.<br /><br />Business suits and coffee. <br /><br />Billable hours and highlighters.<br /><br /><br /><br />Fuck that says a muted voice from deep within. Fuck that as I shave my hair and rock my hightops. Fuck that as I put the needle back on the record.<br /><br />Bills you say?<br /><br />Fuck that as I sell my shit reduce reuse and recycle.<br /><br />Dont need no new Gucci glasses.<br /><br />Just a Stella.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-1160601888751079152006-10-11T12:01:00.000-04:002006-10-12T15:00:49.226-04:00Los cucarachas de senior Edward...<center><br />An epic story of bravery, cowardice, and hysteria...<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />I'll begin my tale on a windy cloudy day at Mudville...oh yes, the famed Mudville, <br />(A Ballad of the Republic. Sung in the Year 1888) <br />And just like the Mudville nine, the outlook wasn't brilliant for Corporate Kerri and Shana Nasty that day.<br />Lunch wasnt swell, it was sweltering...<br />thats the heat of room and the sweat inducing meal <br />and precisely where we begin this gruesome tale...<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />While the wings were scorching and the beer hardly cooled, <br />The infamous duo soon realized they had just missed their school.<br />Alas another day without class and excuses, <br />but a perfect situation in which to introduce the ice pack on bruises.<br />For instead of coming to class late and dumb<br />the duo would prepare for the next week to come.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />The irony hit when a text message sent<br />"we're at edwards, us two" and to edwards they went.<br />The message from Slopey and Brens at her side<br />How funny missing class the other duo in their tribe.<br />Notorious for missing classes and drinking as well<br />these four came together in their tendancies to rebel.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />Into edwards they walked just in time to buy beer<br />without a clue about the little friend who would soon appear.<br />As Slopey and brens at soup with some corn<br />Corporate Kerri seemed to regard them with some scorn<br />"i've never like this place", she said with a look of contempt<br />but to chill and relax the tribe would attempt.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />Unfortunatley for Brens, the little friend did appear<br />so creepy it was that it nearly braised her ear.<br />Alas corporate kerri so swift and so bold<br />Probably her haberdasher kept her so controlled.<br />She picked up a napkin and watched as he ran<br />and as she went to squish him he lept out of her hand.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />Suddenlly, a loud shriek, heard right round the land<br />from little Slopey, who knew? her voice had such command.<br />The whole restaurant stopped, two angry men in the corner<br />while the waitress just smiled and continued to take our order.<br />If you can imagine, this was calm, while Nasty just stood, <br />amazed that her friend just screamed as loud as she could.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />Moments later all were calm and they continued to converse<br />but of course conversation took a turn for the worse<br />Horror stories of spiders and roaches galore<br />Until all four of the tribe stood shook to the core.<br />And just as the conversation grew much more frightening<br />till all four sat feeling their skin bumpy and crawling<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />Suddenly, a gaze, more like a look of disgust<br />From Shana Nasty, something serious thought Slopey, serious a must<br />For she glared eyes wide open, mouth dropped to the floor<br />and the next thing you knew Shana sprinted for the door.<br />Hardly breathing just running the door handle in sight<br />Shana Nasty cared for nothing save escaping her fright.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />Slopey P not so calm as some thought she could be<br />Instead she ran too, screaming and jumping wildly.<br />No one knew what had happened a simple glance and a stare<br />But the entire restaurant stopped to see what was there.<br />Entire, I lie, as Ker and Brens simply sat<br />thinking nothing of the madness they had just witnessed pass.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />But the horror continued outside on the street<br />Shana Nasty running for life chased by Slopey P.<br />"Shaaayyyeeennnaa! WHERE IS IT WHERE ON EARTH COULD IT BE"<br />screamed Slopes as she undressed right there in the street<br />The little child and his mother stopped and just stared<br />as Shana ran wildly chased by Slopes deathly scared.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />Finally Shana gave up and came to her aid<br />found nothing on Slopes who felt incredibly betrayed.<br />"Dont get it on me" screamed Shana just minutes before<br />Slopey simply didnt have it in her to forgive her friend anymore.<br />Embarrased and shy the two slumped back into edwards<br />Everyone staring loudly while the two just stared onwards.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />"What was it?" grumbled Ker as she looked with distaste<br />And Brens had been shook you could see it in her face.<br />"i saw it I SWEAR, right there on her chest"<br />screamed Shana who at this point appeard quite a mess.<br />"You lie, its not true" said Ker with conviction<br />"It makes perfect sense, must have come out of the kitchen"<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br />After apologies and hysterics the tribe simply laughed<br />How funny yet sad this predicament passed.<br />"Never again" said Corporate Ker and the tribe just agreed<br />"Never again" it is true, though the memory will succeed.<br />Thus the tale it must end, no cocroaches on her shirt<br />But forever this memory engrained and they laughed till it hurt.<br /><img src="http://www.infoplagas.com/images/Brown_H_peq.JPG"></img><br /></center>shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-1158089380874164542006-09-12T15:23:00.000-04:002006-09-12T15:29:40.916-04:005 years from the perspective of one week<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fhWX2F6G7Y">Check out the live performance from Def Comedy Jam</a href><br /><br />First Writing Since<br /><br />By Suheir Hammad. Suheir Hammad is a Palestinian-American poet and political<br />activist. She has published a book of poems, Born Palestinian, Born Black,<br />and a memoir, Drops of This Story. Reprinted on this web page with<br />permission of the author.<br /><br /><br />1. there have been no words.<br />i have not written one word.<br />no poetry in the ashes south of canal street.<br />no prose in the refrigerated trucks driving debris and dna.<br />not one word.<br /><br />today is a week, and seven is of heavens, gods, science.<br />evident out my kitchen window is an abstract reality.<br />sky where once was steel.<br />smoke where once was flesh.<br /><br />fire in the city air and i feared for my sister’s life in a way never<br />before. and then, and now, i fear for the rest of us.<br /><br />first, please god, let it be a mistake, the pilot’s heart failed, the<br />plane’s engine died.<br />then please god, let it be a nightmare, wake me now.<br />please god, after the second plane, please, don’t let it be anyone<br />who looks like my brothers.<br /><br />i do not know how bad a life has to break in order to kill.<br />i have never been so hungry that i willed hunger<br />i have never been so angry as to want to control a gun over a pen.<br />not really.<br />even as a woman, as a palestinian, as a broken human being.<br />never this broken.<br /><br />more than ever, i believe there is no difference.<br />the most privileged nation, most americans do not know the difference<br />between indians, afghanis, syrians, muslims, sikhs, hindus.<br />more than ever, there is no difference.<br /><br />2. thank you korea for kimchi and bibim bob, and corn tea and the<br />genteel smiles of the wait staff at wonjo – smiles never revealing<br />the heat of the food or how tired they must be working long midtown<br />shifts. thank you korea, for the belly craving that brought me into<br />the city late the night before and diverted my daily train ride into<br />the world trade center.<br /><br />there are plenty of thank yous in ny right now. thank you for my<br />lazy procrastinating late ass. thank you to the germs that had me<br />call in sick. thank you, my attitude, you had me fired the week<br />before. thank you for the train that never came, the rude nyer who<br />stole my cab going downtown. thank you for the sense my mama gave me<br />to run. thank you for my legs, my eyes, my life.<br /><br />3. the dead are called lost and their families hold up shaky<br />printouts in front of us through screens smoked up.<br /><br />we are looking for iris, mother of three. please call with any<br />information. we are searching for priti, last seen on the 103rd<br />floor. she was talking to her husband on the phone and the line<br />went. please help us find george, also known as adel. his family is<br />waiting for him with his favorite meal. i am looking for my son, who<br />was delivering coffee. i am looking for my sister girl, she started<br />her job on monday.<br /><br />i am looking for peace. i am looking for mercy. i am looking for<br />evidence of compassion. any evidence of life. i am looking for<br />life.<br /><br />4. ricardo on the radio said in his accent thick as yuca, “i will<br />feel so much better when the first bombs drop over there. and my<br />friends feel the same way.”<br /><br />on my block, a woman was crying in a car parked and stranded in hurt.<br />i offered comfort, extended a hand she did not see before she said,<br />“we’re gonna burn them so bad, i swear, so bad.” my hand went to my<br />head and my head went to the numbers within it of the dead iraqi<br />children, the dead in nicaragua. the dead in rwanda who had to vie<br />with fake sport wrestling for america’s attention.<br /><br />yet when people sent emails saying, this was bound to happen, lets<br />not forget u.s. transgressions, for half a second i felt resentful.<br />hold up with that, cause i live here, these are my friends and fam,<br />and it could have been me in those buildings, and we’re not bad<br />people, do not support america’s bullying. can i just have a half<br />second to feel bad?<br /><br />if i can find through this exhaust people who were left behind to<br />mourn and to resist mass murder, i might be alright.<br /><br />thank you to the woman who saw me brinking my cool and blinking back<br />tears. she opened her arms before she asked “do you want a hug?” a<br />big white woman, and her embrace was the kind only people with the<br />warmth of flesh can offer. i wasn’t about to say no to any comfort.<br />“my brother’s in the navy,” i said. “and we’re arabs”. “wow, you<br />got double trouble.” word.<br /><br />5. one more person ask me if i knew the hijackers.<br />one more motherfucker ask me what navy my brother is in.<br />one more person assume no arabs or muslims were killed.<br />one more person assume they know me, or that i represent a people.<br />or that a people represent an evil. or that evil is as simple as a<br />flag and words on a page.<br /><br />we did not vilify all white men when mcveigh bombed oklahoma.<br />america did not give out his family’s addresses or where he went to<br />church. or blame the bible or pat robertson.<br /><br />and when the networks air footage of palestinians dancing in the<br />street, there is no apology that hungry children are bribed with<br />sweets that turn their teeth brown. that correspondents edit images.<br />that archives are there to facilitate lazy and inaccurate<br />journalism.<br /><br />and when we talk about holy books and hooded men and death, why do we<br />never mention the kkk?<br /><br />if there are any people on earth who understand how new york is<br />feeling right now, they are in the west bank and the gaza strip.<br /><br />6. today it is ten days. last night bush waged war on a man once<br />openly funded by the<br />cia. i do not know who is responsible. read too many books, know<br />too many people to believe what i am told. i don’t give a fuck about<br />bin laden. his vision of the world does not include me or those i<br />love. and petittions have been going around for years trying to get<br />the u.s. sponsored taliban out of power. shit is complicated, and i<br />don’t know what to think.<br /><br />but i know for sure who will pay.<br /><br />in the world, it will be women, mostly colored and poor. women will<br />have to bury children, and support themselves through grief. “either<br />you are with us, or with the terrorists” - meaning keep your people<br />under control and your resistance censored. meaning we got the loot<br />and the nukes.<br /><br />in america, it will be those amongst us who refuse blanket attacks on<br />the shivering. those of us who work toward social justice, in<br />support of civil liberties, in opposition to hateful foreign<br />policies.<br /><br />i have never felt less american and more new yorker – particularly<br />brooklyn, than these past days. the stars and stripes on all these<br />cars and apartment windows represent the dead as citizens first – not<br />family members, not lovers.<br /><br />i feel like my skin is real thin, and that my eyes are only going to<br />get darker. the future holds little light.<br /><br />my baby brother is a man now, and on alert, and praying five times a<br />day that the orders he will take in a few days time are righteous and<br />will not weigh his soul down from the afterlife he deserves.<br /><br />both my brothers - my heart stops when i try to pray - not a beat to<br />disturb my fear. one a rock god, the other a sergeant, and both<br />palestinian, practicing muslim, gentle men. both born in brooklyn<br />and their faces are of the archetypal arab man, all eyelashes and<br />nose and beautiful color and stubborn hair.<br /><br />what will their lives be like now?<br /><br />over there is over here.<br /><br />7. all day, across the river, the smell of burning rubber and limbs<br />floats through. the sirens have stopped now. the advertisers are<br />back on the air. the rescue workers are traumatized. the skyline is<br />brought back to human size. no longer taunting the gods with its<br />height.<br /><br />i have not cried at all while writing this. i cried when i saw those<br />buildings collapse on themselves like a broken heart. i have never<br />owned pain that needs to spread like that. and i cry daily that my<br />brothers return to our mother safe and whole.<br /><br />there is no poetry in this. there are causes and effects. there are<br />symbols and ideologies. mad conspiracy here, and information we will<br />never know. there is death here, and there are promises of more.<br /><br />there is life here. anyone reading this is breathing, maybe hurting,<br />but breathing for sure. and if there is any light to come, it will<br />shine from the eyes of those who look for peace and justice after the<br />rubble and rhetoric are cleared and the phoenix has risen.<br /><br />affirm life.<br />affirm life.<br />we got to carry each other now.<br />you are either with life, or against it.<br />affirm life.<br /><br /><br />suheir hammadshanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-1147481012050413962006-05-12T20:42:00.000-04:002006-05-12T20:43:32.063-04:00I think I've missed more flights than most people fly in their entire lifetime. i generally fly quite often, and I tend to miss about 1/3 of my flights. So if you figure that I fly maybe 3 times a month, and miss one of those three flights, the missed flights would equal a frequent flyer on their own. <br /><br />damn. lemme think about flights ive missed to and from:<br />ft lauderdale from new york<br />new york from paris<br />oakland from new york<br />san jose from new york<br />wisconsin from new york<br />etcetera n shit. <br /><br />its been a bit ridiculous. but as ive grown, ive learned to take things in stride. this hasnt cost me money, only time. this time has allowed me to decompress after the exam week from hell. <br /><br />and off to M.I.A. cuz them bitches is sexyshanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-1145907124284751942006-04-24T15:27:00.000-04:002006-04-24T15:32:04.296-04:00searchingi have a lot more to say on this issue, but for now i'll simply put it at this<br /><br />in the midst of my 26th year, likening myself to my mother who gave birth to me at the same age, and contrasting myself against those around me, older, younger, smarter, stronger, slower, simpler...<br />im afraid that i've been parading<br />around as though i truly believe my cause, <br />as if i ever had one at all<br /><br />cuz i think i formed one, maybe just to form one<br />kind of like how i went to law school just to go<br /><br />and im starting to dislike myself, <br />so i'll delve further when i have a moment.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-1139270291742115532006-02-06T18:57:00.000-05:002006-02-06T18:58:11.760-05:00ratsSo I think this is where I dont fit in.<br />Somehow I've been convinced that change is possible.<br />I am beginning to realize that this idea has not come in an acceptance of our government or judicial system.<br />Nor has it come in the form that I feel was taught to those that came before me and similarly those who have applauded the steps I've taken thus far in my "career".<br />They argue that there is a formula. That certain methods will reward, or provide you with the changes you seek.<br />I wonder if they have thought about the very element they try to achieve.<br />I wonder if they thought the changes would bring about change.<br /><br />So now Im here. With this sudden realization that I've been fighting.<br />Like "they" have been holding my head under water...waiting for the changes to occur in me. Waiting for me to buy into the formulation that we've all been taught.<br />Do you wonder? Cuz I wonder. <br /><br />and supposedly Im smart. And thats what they've been saying since I was in the smart kids class in elementary school.<br />Do they train us? Are we supposed to be preconditioned? And what happens when we veer off the tracks?<br />Do we realized that we've been brainwashed? Do they seek us out and try to keep us from exclaiming to others our newfound wisdom? Do they have a task force to keep in line the smart kids that "disappear"...maybe they take us to some hidden, underground prison and make us police the internet or provide some other government function with wires tapped into our head and computers monitoring our every thought.<br />Its like we're the test rats that get out and form our own union...Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...Smart Kids Gone Bad.<br /><br />I wonder if there's some collective out there of smart kid rejects who shook themselves out of the daze of bullshit, the daze of the promise of a substantial future, and awoke to the realization that we're all fucked. But some of us are programmed so we dont realize we're fucked.<br />Maybe if we just shut up and accept the programming we'll all be ok.<br /><br />Or, maybe we're not supposed to have hearts, or passion, or true talents that reach far beyond whatever they'd like to program us to do or think.<br /><br />Dont you wonder if it was Mozart who was programmed, or if he was an escaped rat that started a revolution. Do they model programs after escaped rats? Probably some of them...maybe the ones that dont know any better.<br />Escaped Rats:<br />Malcolm X<br />Basquiat<br />John Cage<br />Benjamin Franklin<br />Shana Fried.<br /><br />There is nothing that exists if it doesnt come from an original thought. Because everything else is recycled bullshit. And the programmed ones are the ones that enforce that train of thought. But what is an original thought, if it doesnt stem from a thought we've been taught. Or deciphered through the language that we've been taught. Can we have original thoughts without having them be tainted by the petri dish that we're contained in? Can i get a breath of fresh air from outside the fucking petri dish?<br /><br />ANYWAYS, this began as an introduction to the idea that MEDIA is the new GOVERNMENT. After all, government (while easily infiltratible and contaminatable) was supposed to be created as an outreach of the voice of the people...and this institution was most likely corrupt long before it was ever enforced...but that was the idea. So, can you imagine how media and marketing and provocation can be a STRONGER method of regulating the thoughts that exist within the petri dish? <br />After all...its much more accessible and very easy to decipher in this day and age. For some reason, all the old white men who run the country decided to stick with a tired, stuffy and frankly quite boring method of ruling this country. YA, it makes it a lot easier for them to maintain their status, but it also allows for a lot of cracks in the system. NO ONE FOLLOWS GOVERNMENT. the "people" have no fucking clue whats going on...so I cant help but wonder what the fuck im doing here. Maybe its to learn the way they think in order to overturn..."dress and act and talk like them, then fool them at their own game".<br />But wouldnt it be cooler to use the "common people's" tool: MEDIA and overturn the old ways.<br />So, in addition to the religion I'll be forming, I've decided to recruit youths and escaped rats to overturn so TV can be our new government.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-1139247472345184252006-02-06T12:24:00.000-05:002006-02-06T12:37:52.393-05:00funny that you say thatfunny that you say that<br />cuz my mind wants to replay that<br />but switch the you with the me<br />and the she for the she<br />because the her you speak of <br />the dreams you dream of<br />not worth the words you speak<br />not true the feelings it reaps<br /><br />im sorry to say <br />tho its plain as my everyday<br />that the invaluable<br />the ingaugable<br />the truly tangible<br />yet unmanageable<br />reasons deepen within<br />certain traits<br />some mistakes<br />but NEVER fake<br />always seem to take<br />me <br />and leave<br />me<br /><br />with this notion that you know more<br />that you show less<br />and your kindness<br />is more precise<br />and your consideration<br />comes with beautiful articulation<br /><br />so no, my dear<br />those things you fear<br />the traits you miss<br />those strengths you wish<br />no need<br /><br />for im the one who must heed<br />must follow your lead<br />because honestly,<br />truthfully, like words from your mouth,<br />you are the one<br /><br />and it is you who i wish to be<br />like<br />it is you who i like to be <br />wish <br />you and me<br />can be <br />truly<br />i wish to see what you see<br />deep breaths and all<br />because it must be softer where you fall.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-1138585129714704722006-01-29T20:15:00.000-05:002006-01-29T20:38:49.756-05:00tangibleanyone can write a book.<br />ideas are spread by word of mouth, by influence, coercion, persuasion, implication.<br />and people are simply suceptable to these thoughts and the inheritence of these thoughts into our trains of thought.<br />almost as if the mechanism designed to transform memory into doing is applied widely and any and all information gets stuck in our brains...a building block to our lives our societies our histories. and we have no say. there are no mind erasers, no memory disenhancers, no natural filtration system to weed out the unimportant or unnecessary information. so we are all vulnerable to the capacity of eachothers brain.<br />like the only restraints might simply be in our make up. in the actual science of our minds, unless you prefer another classification other than science. But thats another conversation.<br />So what i mean is simply this:<br />if our brains have the capactiy of something like one cup of water, and we can only think in terms of water, we are self contained as a species to think within certain confines of what we've all been given.<br />And further, if we are all in this together...even playing field if you will, then I wonder what the restraints are when applied to the actual thinking "in terms of water", since, of course, this is our only guideline. What does that mean? Will different people think in terms of water differently? WIll all people be able to decipher another "thinking" in terms of water? Can your thinking of water affect my thinking of water? If I were to take a large portion of my water and chemically duplicate it, then drain the same amount from your cup of water and replace it with my chemically duplicated water, would I essentially be "brain washing" you (funny...washing...water...) by replacing your thoughts with mine? How many thoughts can fill up the one cup of water? Are we born with a predetermined "thought" of the water already in our heads? Or are each of our waters chemically different though we are all somehow able to share "ideas" of water because we speak the same language?<br /><br />Have you ever thought about what other people see? I often imagine complete darkness and all of us running around seeing different things...imagining different masses then physically being aware of them...maybe when the brain creates a physical image it correlates the imaginary physical image and its "visual" reproduction (which is really just a tought of a visual image) to a "touching" sensation on all "touching" receivers (fingers, body, short hairs on the back of your neck). So really its all just one big mind fuck with all senses plugged in to the game console...<br />Remember in the 80's when they thought virtual realtiy would become a new world in which we already exist. Like we can set up a computer program to create a "car" in the virtual reality game, but there's no car there...its just a binary representation.<br />But what if we already exist in this virtual reality world...and we have forever... and we're just living out the game.<br /><br />Is that what they think god is? The super IT man...the computer programmer that created this version of SIM CITY...and the universe is actually some clubhouse with a bunch of tech geeks with their own worlds...<br /><br />Did you ever wonder what kind of societites ants have? And how they view humans? Are we similar to the "giants' we protray in our childrens books like "Jack and the beanstalk" or Lord of the Rings?<br /><br />I guess if you remove the time/space continuum that we seem to have created as an explaination for our existance, or at least a user interface for it...what remains? Maybe its really like the Matrix. Or maybe this is all happening as some strange dream that is in actuality only a fraction of the "life" of whatever being is creating this dream...in whatever "world" it exists...<br /><br />I'm thinking of starting a new religion as a way to make money...but also and probably more importantly as a way to examine the ease of interpretation and the power of marketing. <br />And in effect, as a way to exclaim to the "world"...look at how fucking silly we're all being.shanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6736630.post-1138148202331443062006-01-24T19:12:00.000-05:002006-01-24T19:16:42.346-05:00weightI lost my identity somewhere along the way<br />just when i thought i was getting closer<br />but maybe its the mood i woke up in today<br />or maybe its that i awoke sober<br /><br />I wrestled with thoughts that weighed heavy on my mind<br />so heavy in fact that they actually stopped time<br />the clock on the wall stuck at 8.45<br />and the thoughts kept pressing till I felt I went blind<br /><br />but when i opened my eyes i seemed to forget<br />cuz your smile and your lips were right there<br />and for a moment those heavy thoughts they just left<br />and i lost myself in the scent of your hair<br /><br />its too bad that you left cuz you could have set free<br />whatever had been suffocating me<br />but now its become clear and plain to see<br />that these heavy thoughts just wont let me beshanastyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12872466505828285495noreply@blogger.com0