THE NECESSARY

There is no Godly reason for me to be up at this hour, thinking, blogging, brainstorming, contemplating, vibing. I know it's got something to do with the fact that I just found the kind of station I've been searching for for a long, long time. KCRW's tagline reads: streamlining innovative and eclectic music 24-7. Tonight my booty has been shaking something fierce to both The Latin Project and Q Burns Abstract Message. And just where do you think KCRW is located? You got it, California. Santa Monica if I'm not mistaken. There ain' no KCRW around here .... there ain' even a wannabe KCRW around here. Shoot, take it to the next level, there ain' even anybody THINKING about creating a KCRW around here. And this is what I'm talking about. The Latin Project will not be played on any of the radio stations around here. And neither will Q Burns be heard. I'm still waiting for these stations to play Jill Scott and India Arie in their entirety but I know it's not gonna happen. The revolution will not be televised. And it will not be on the radio over here.

Over at KCRW's site, I discovered another little something I consider quite progressive (since it too is not happening here). This is what I am in search of and, inadvertently, every time I discover things like this happening, going on, in the works, it is always, always going on somewhere in California. Someone said to me the other night, when my jones was kicking in pretty hard and we were talking about my desire to shift west, that Californians are "strange people." This girl chick was saying that Californians seem to be "in their own world." Well, people say that about New Yorkers too, I'm sure for very different reasons, but in my mind that's a good thing. A necessary thing.

You see, I want to live someplace where people are "in their own world." Why? Because it tells me that they are thinking. They are living. They are dreaming. They are protesting. They are speaking out, speaking up. When I think of San Francisco, I think of what a sisterfriend told me about her experiences. She said, "Girl, those people out there RUN that city, you hear me? You can't go up in there trying to change their stuff and get away with it. If they don't like something, they will shut your party down." She described newspapers that are not filled with ads that read, Car For Sale. Rather, ads (that people pay for, mind you) that ask you to "Vote No! for Question 18" or "Vote Yes for Prop 22." How progressive is that? I think of independant bookstores on every other corner; open readings where people like me are trying out their works on folks that love a good story or a good poem. People who know that the novel is not dead, not a thing of the past. People who are talking about the next hottest thing at MOMA and talking about it with some degree of sensibility, not just wielding a Starbucks coffee and trying to look cute so they can get a date. I think of people who wear clothes that don't match. Sisters that are not so hair obsessed that every strand has to fried-dyed-and-layed-to-the-side before they can even open the garage door to set out the trash. I think of people who give a damn about natural resources and can articulate why it's really a jacked up proposition to even think of drilling in Alaska. I think of all these things. People who are in their own world.

A sisterfriend, Jamey, commented on my last post by writing:

"....people usually look at me strangely when i tell them how drawn i am to a particular city. for me its new orleans. i love it because it's not cookie cutter, its one of the few southern cities to me that still has its own character...i love that there can be a mansion next door to a shack...a spectacular garden hidden behind a gate...a city that still belives in its own magic, music and food...memphis, my city, my home is a dying city...it was once a center of music and magic...it no longer believes in its own myths...i am dying within its walls...cookie cutter strip malls and edward scissorhand houses make me ill and memphis is full of them"

And so I ask myself, why are we creative people living in places and spaces that are making us ill? That are starving us? Why haven't we made the connection that Place has everything to do with one's creative expression, one's ability to turn the nothing into something? Why have we stayed where we are for as long as we have? What is it that we're afraid of? What are we waiting for? What needs to be done to move us from where we are to where we want to be and why are we not doing it? Again I ask, what are we waiting for? I mean, if "If" where a fifth we'd all be drunk. Am I wrong?

Posed to myself, my answer is that I lack a plan. And I lack the ability to just pack up my MotherShip and figure it out when I get there. I'm sorry, that kind of thing is what you do when you're twenty. You don't do that at 33. And you don't do it when you've got kids. Kids need (and deserve) stability. They don't deserve to wonder where the next meal is coming from while you sit trying to figure out where things went wrong. I'm not that selfish. The other thing is, California is ghastly expensive and though I know that in most cities, it's all relative, I wonder if that's true of California? I don't know. I know that I'm not willing to pay $300,000 for a house that sits in Mr. Scissorhand's backyard. And I'm not even remotely interested in condo living. I like my privacy just a little too much. So research and visiting and talking and more research is in high order right now.
The other thing is, I'm truly getting concerned about Bush. Though I didn't feel any pain cashing that tax rebate check that came in, I worry about which side of his brain is turned on, if any at all. How can you be giving money back to folks and expecting them to spend it to "boost the economy" when folks don't have jobs? I mean, this ain't rocket science, man. The economy is in free-fall mode in my opinion and this is no time to be rocking your boat trying to be adventurous. Lastly, much of my problem surrounds the very hard core fact that I believe in working outside of your passion as little as possible. In other words, if you're trying to be a musician, you keep your debt as close to zero as possible so you can work as little as possible so you can save brain space for your music, your jones. The main reason it's taken me as long as it has on my novel (aside from the daily distractions that accompany childrearing) is that I worked full time while trying to write that first draft. Nine to five. Nine to insane. By the time I'd get home and get everything settled in order to write their was nothing left to give. My body was worn down and my work a vast mirage. And so I've learned that the only way to do what I love to do --- create --- is to work as little as possible. So that's my five and dime excuse, which ain't worth the keys it's been typed on but an excuse nonetheless. An excuse I'm going to have to put to the side because living here makes me ill.

The other thing Jamey wrote was:
"....so today, on paper i am going to make me a world...a life filled with music and food and dinner parties and gardening and sewing and travel and seasonal celebrations and real letters (with paper and stamps no less!) and yoga and travel and conjure and of course writing, the constant of the word and hopefully lots of love, in the city that i love..."

And I'm feeling her on that too. I'm wanting everything she said and more. I'm imagining friends with furniture that doesn't match, clothes that are handmade, books that are self-published, and underground CDs that are blowing up spots like a mug. I'm imagining nappy hair get togethers and latina sisters teaching me and my girl Spanish while we all throw down on some serious arroz con pollo, tres leches, capirotada and sip frozen margaritas. I'm imagining belly dancing classes after yoga and learning how to paint....I'm imagining....being in my own world....finding the necessary....I'm imagining....and I'm working on that plan.

Thanks, J.

ANGEL