At approximately
4 a.m. this past Tuesday, Nov 10, Mrs. Grace Jones Killens, the widow of novelist John Oliver Killens, passed away quietly in her home. She was 90 years old. Teamwork and social activism defined their marriage and their home in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, was a refuge and meeting ground for writers, artists and activists.
A wake and memorial program for Mrs. Grace Killens will take place on
Sunday, November 15 - 3 to
8 p.m., at
Unity Funeral Chapel (1406 Pitkin Avenue/Eastern Parkway) in
Brooklyn. The memorial begins at
5:30 p.m. The funeral will be at Unity the following morning, Monday, Nov 16, at 10
a.m.She will be interred beside her husband at EvergreensCemetery.
FRIDAY
i was just looking over some of my recentposts and its like you are seriously out of control, rick
its like stop me before i blog again - i wouldnt mind coming on so strong if i had work coming out
i put these posts out there then i look at them and its like, oops, TMI, lets delete that, but it be
good work so i leave it alone, you cant back up off good work - where does that get you
whatever
hello world
just heard from my sister that mother in hospital under emergency conditions might have to get on my pony and ride
mother been bedridden some 6, 7 years now, we expected her to die some time ago doctors wrote her off, she was ready to go, but my sister was not ready to let her
has kept her alive by sheer grit and 24 hour care, its been kinda amazing actually and when i go home to try to give my sister a break it becomes an emergency whenever she has to go to the hospital it becomes an emergency cause my sister
the only one know what to do daily to keep her going - nobody else can, its the most profound thing nobody thought my sister had it in her but when the bell rang she stepped up to the plate
now she say its going downhill w/the quickness, same things folk told me about ms grace but i kept putting off making the run down and missed ms grace, cant do that w/my momma too
whenever i go there sometime she lucid sometime she not, but she always smile when she realize its me she always cracking jokes, still be commenting on the issues of the day, she cant hardly eat these days
but she love to eat, its her only indulgence she got left so im always sneaking her cookies and cupcakes and the like, and elise know it, she allow it, and work a little harder to compensate for my quality time
everybody my generation got these elderly parents checking out, needing full time care and all bonnie was just down in dc doing her parent thing last week, and she was saying this morning
everytime you can get some quality time in w/them you know its a blessing, and how much you savor them its going to be real problematic in my life to try to head for the delta right now
but it will be much more problematic if i dont
missed my daddy dying, i had just left memphis and moved to la, and he had been in and out of the hospital moma told me dont worry about trying to make it right back, he will be okay, but he wasnt, he died and i wasnt there
my daddy one of those oldschool general practitioners, classic crusty family doctor and kinda legendary in those parts, momma told me the young doctors would come in and ask what should we do dr flowers
elise tell me about all these old folk from arkansas, his 1st practice, come in and do all this hoodoo stuff, sprinkling him w/holywater, burning candles et al, told her your daddy a special doctor, say he heal with both hands
this news to me, i thought i was the hoodoo in the family, daddy took care of their bodies, i handled their souls i knew i had come by it on my mommas side but it appear i come by it on my fathers side too - who knew
just missed my last blessing with ms grace, i hope this thing with my momma just another hump but if its not i cant cry about it, shes had about 7 years beyond what they gave her and they been good years
lot of laughs, good conversations, that special smile she give when she happy
when i sneak her a cookie
fuck it all, im gone
sunday make ms graces memorial down in the city, and go from there to the delta
look like older you get the more flexible your definition of satisfaction
just heard from keith gilyard that grace killens died this morning, about 4 am ms grace was john killens wife and of the two of them she was the militant one
that kept him on point, i knew she was under the gun and i been intending to
get to city to see her and it kept getting put back, feel guilty about that but ms grace wouldnt
hold it against me so im not going to worry about it, guess i will be trekking down to city
im out, let me leave you w/this puppetry piece, i never realized how so very human blinks are
these puppets are so soulful they make me think about what it mean to be human, i enjoy being conscious of humanity and the human condition and all that, thats what literature all about, anything that sensitize me to that, im hungry for that, it make me tingle
i miss ms grace, as much as i miss john o and my father, life is such a strange journey, i wish her god speed, and sekou and safiya and imogunla et al, all the folk in my life who have passed on, both the living and the dead, and generations to come, gods blessings on us all
all my love
rdoc
WOW, ITS TUESDAY ALREADY
hello world, ive been underwater, but it cross my mind i hadnt commented on the healthbill vote
so, giving rickydocs blessings on nancy pelosi, barack obama, anh cao and the strong 220
now the real battle begins, the senate, looking for the strong 60, i dont quite understand how that works i am shamed to say, why cant they just let the republicans filibuster,
seem like in the old civil rights days they filibustered everything and it got thru anyway - now folk so scared of the filibuster they knuckle under beforehand, i must not understand how that works
what else, im sure there is a lot to comment on but im feeling underwater, been doing nothing but ofm for the last week, other folks manuscripts, trying to get thru all these end of the year obligations
and its clear there is another category that i have to learn how to say no to, undergrad mfa submissions - this year ive been inundated with folk wanting me to critique their mfa application submissions
a lot of them folk ive encouraged to go for it, cant honorably say no when they ask me to read their work - but im kinda frustrated now, havent been able to do any of my work this week, buried in ofm
that make me grouchy
i see the answer to this is to say no
just say no rick, cant do it - trying to get my own work done, just cant do it
school obligatories i got to do, but one story beyond my obligatories takes my discretionary time, lets say 3 hours or more per story, that mean that day shot for my work - a novel takes about a week, or a full weekend, more if its a complicated novel,
and so often folk dont follow thru, thats time been wasted
some folk dont really want to become better writers, they just want help being published, mfa entry, etc - you can pretty much tell by how they come to you who want real help and who just using you
got to get ruthless rick, im not doing this again, im much too desperate to give up days - weeks of writing time consistently like this
me and george was talking about this the other day, what i got he got doubled - geo better w/the no than i am, he has to be
couple of days ago this brother aked me to read a manuscripts of shorts for him, god i wanted to say cant do it man, just cant do it, but he a brother back home thats been serious about his literary efforts, ive known him 20 years now and hes always been respectful, had enuf success to keep him in the game, i feel obligated to help him, thats what it boil down to, so many folk helped me when i was knocking at the door
when you quote unquote successful for so many folk you the best or only gateway they know and you feel like you got to be generous because folk was generous with you when you was a desperate young cub
i guess you might as well quit whining rick, you just wasting time you could be getting thru these manuscripts,
ive already obligated myself for these and i try to live by my word
but in the future, folk gone get a lot more no from me, just cant do it, just cant
had one person send me her work and give me a deadline to get back to her, it was something like 3 days and i could only be amused, okay, what about the 15 folk thats in front of you, some of whom been waiting a year or so to hear back from me, what im suppose to do about them
but mr niceguy say cant do it in 3 days, i will try in next week or so, cause i know she trying to get her mfa application off, but its not going to happen, these mfa apps they not likely to be done before end of month
my goal right now is get through these novel manuscripts, so this month look like
between schoolhouse and manuscriptwork (and evan) nothing for flowers
i really felt for my gradstudents when teaching start cutting into their production time, but i couldnt let them stay in that space, every writer i know teach, you make it work - i bought pizza and beer last class to
knda apologize for jacking them up week before, i know i know, the beer was pushing it
(was just thinking if i put mfa folk off to the end of month that doesnt give them much rewrite time before those apps start going out dec 1st, might have to push them further up the line, big sigh)
i think when i finish this manuscript im on ima take the weekend for my own before i dig into next one
that might take some of this pressure off my soul, take some of this grouch up off of me
im gone, day feels half gone already, got a string of meetings w/students (about their manuscripts)
starting in about 30 minutes, running late again rick - got to get on my pony and ride
(pony a metaphor, actually im about to get in the volvo and ride)
im out
rdoc
WEDNESDAY
okay, let me see, cant hold back, my boy alex yates got a deal, its still in negotiation so i cant go into detail yet but he sold his novel, me and alex been close since he got here, always came to me w/respect, came up in here talking novel, alex one of my special ones - im just as tickled as if i had sold my own
wish i could claim credit for him but alex so good he woulda sold no matter who he was working with, book was on the market all of 8 days before the bids start coming in
well, i still got bragging rights and thats what count
that photo, tulsi sent me that, from the jaipur literary festival performance, did that month long state dept goodwill tour of india, photo brought back the glorydays, they treated me like i was some kind of literary guru, bowing, touching my feet, the little halfcircle asking about the meaning of life, amazing sets and astounding offers, it mess w/my head a little bit i have to say, but i could get used to that - it was interesting the way folk responded to the spiritual component of my work in a way ive not experienced elsewhere in my travels
washout on the elections yesterday, i was hoping corzine would pull thru, we would have actually been better off to lose the 23rd up in newyork, that would have emboldened the wingnut right of the republican party to drag it even further to the right and kick out more moderates before the 2010 midterm elections
instead the model will be the virginia guy who hid his rightwing inclinations until elected, id rather have the rightwing in full bray myself
apparently publishers weekly just did a listing, 10 best books 2009, that did not include any women, imagine that - some folk are clueless, pw is not clueless, a conscious decision was made, some penalty should be paid for thinking they could get away w/it
okay, what else, had a productive weekend, im in that strange end of semester space, i got to step up my game for november, do backupped feedbacks, get manuscripts off my plates, hold overdue conferences w/students, overdue lunch obligations, i got to give them my all this month because come dec 1st im thru
i dont accept manuscripts or set up conferences that last couple of weeks of school because they will wait until the last week to give me a slew of drafts, so after school is done im still buried, that dont fly
otherday i jacked up my grad workshop, they were turning in raw fragments and i said this is not your A game, raw i can take, but not fragments, you not getting full benefit of workshop experience,
they made some good cases about struggling w/new stuff, but i think im right on this one, bring your best effort to workshop, but if im asking them for their A game, i got to give them mine, which mean focus, rick
one month, full court press focus, i can handle that
what was cutting into their production was this teaching, which will cut any writers production if you let it, you learn how to modulate it, cant give it 100%, just cant, you learn to cut any corner that can be cut
and these manuscript, by god in heaven im getting them off my plate too, this week will be 2 down, 3 to go
i can already smell freedom to focus on my own work, maybe a month, minus family xmas time, the temptation is to shut down shop right now, that i have to fight, problem with teaching is that my heart is in it
i like doing well, i like giving my students what they need, (not necessarily what they want)
so i have to resist the pull to pull out early, but its almost time to send my traveling spirit out, thats when the real me is home working while the traveling spirit is out there dealing with people, they think they dealing w/me but its just a facade
what else, my numbers been dropping, cause my posting spotty and self referenced, so be it
did some work on my holybook this week, that was cool, finished off a gil scott heron piece for oxford and thought if im going to be doing nonfiction i might as well do some that really mean something to me
so i pulled out my holybook, the hoodoo book of flowers, the great black book of generations, plan was to put the novel down (gasp) for nov, while im dug into the schoolhouse crunch anyway, and work on HBOF
but that didnt work, ima have to do both, there is no such thing as put the novel down
okay, im gone, i want to do commentary but its all me me me, maybe later
congrats again to alex, man that felt as good as selling my own
i love teaching young writers and i love even more when i can help them navigate the industry
alex was easy, but i get bragging rights anyway, feels good, real real good
damn every industry gatekeeper that ever was, we coming thru
all my love
rdoc
SATURDAY MORNING
finally, the sun is rising,
i been sitting here at the sacred desk trying to write for a couple of hours now and nothing happening, i feel so beat up wore out tired i just cant get my groove on,
just sitting here watching the sun rise, watching the sky turn
saw keith gilyard today, adam brought him on campus, keith and safiya the ones brought me to syracuse, me and keith go all the way back, his bio on my mentor, john oliver killens, is due out in april, from univ of georgia press, i cant wait
keith know all the secrets, he was telling me stuff about john i had no idea, i had read earlier drafts of bio but its evolved so far beyond what it was, he was telling me juicy stuff the lawyers wouldnt let him include because it was telling secrets on mainstream literary icons, who fucked whose wife, who still holding ideological grudges after all these years,
literary wars they never cease
so many secrets that i want to tell you, as you know dear regulators, secrets are my business, the hoodoo coin in trade, but for once i think i will let discretion be the better part of valor, im out
the sky is beginning to streak with light, its really pretty, today might be a chill out day, a lick my wounds day
a day for watching the sun rise, licking my wounds, soldiering on
rdoc
FRIDAY
nina shope got this from some group call boldprogressives or something like that now i dont usually sign online petitions and other such tactics of the weak
but for joe lieberman i will make an exception, anything rachel madow (and nina) approve of
i approve of too
===============
Nina,
You may have heard the news. Sen. Joe Lieberman (I-CT) is threatening
to help Republicans block a vote on health care reform if the bill
includes a public health insurance option.
But when reporters asked Lieberman if he'd be willing to lose his powerful committee chairmanship as a consequence, he said:
"Oh, God no."
What's our answer? Hell yeah!
You and 90,000 others signed our petition to Democratic senators asking
them to strip leadership titles from Lieberman (or others) if they
block reform. Can you help us get to 100,000? Please forward this email to your friends.
Ask them to sign our petition to Democratic senators by clicking here. If you're on Facebook,
click here to share the petition. If you're on Twitter, click to automatically Tweet this message: Are we going to let Joe Lieberman screw up health care reform? Hell no!
Sign the petition to hold him accountable --> http://bit.ly/2N7YVq
We'll deliver this petition to Sen. Evan Bayh (D-IN), among others.
After Lieberman endorsed John McCain for president, and Democrats let
Lieberman keep his chairmanship, Bayh said:
"If he does retain his chairmanship, we still exert oversight over
him... He doesn't have the ability to just do whatever he wants. The
caucus still has the right to remove him from that position at any
time..."
Now's the time for Democratic senators like Bayh to let Lieberman know
they'll make good on that promise. Lieberman needs to be held
accountable. Please forward this email to friends -- and share on Facebook and
Twitter -- so we can deliver 100,000 signatures to Democratic senators!
Thanks for being a bold progressive.
--Adam Green, Stephanie Taylor, Aaron Swartz, Brian Bills, Michael Snook, and the PCCC team
excuse me dear regulators, i need to stash this clip somewhere for a couple of days while i dig into gil scotts 1980 album, indulge me:
also shut em down
a couple of days, i need to listen to these over and over while i work on this assignment
deadline next week so this wont be but a minute
i ask your indulgence, trying to cut some paper
rdoc
SUNDAY
wow, has it been that long since ive posted, no wonder my numbers falling guess it just bes that way sometime cause im doing catch up
one novel down, 5 to go
some quick commentary, just to get back into the game
obamas war w/fox: long overdue but not going well, when all the news is about the foolishness of the tactic instead of focusing on foxs transgressions youve lost that one
the public option: looks good, looks like we will get some kind of option, perhaps even a robust one but now is not the time to kick back, got to keep the pressure on wavering congress
according to this huff post article the person need some backbone is obama, seems he wavering on the public option, just when we got some traction, too often we have to drag him kicking and whimpering, to to the right or rather the left or should i say progressive thing
anna quindlen has an atricle in newsweek entitled Hope Springs Eternal assessing obamas 1st year and the disappointment he been to us, she say he is not the populist we hoped he was, would be, he is by nature a concilitator and so is government dynamics, say the only way government really moves is when the people force it to:
"So if the American
people want the president to be more like the Barack Obama they
elected, maybe they should start acting more like the voters who
elected him, who forcibly and undeniably moved the political
establishment to where it didn't want to go. After all, in our system,
even great, audacious change is never as audacious as it seems: calls
for a national health-care system can be traced all the way back to
Roosevelt—Teddy Roosevelt, in 1912. When Sen. Olympia Snowe, Republican
of Maine, broke with her party to vote a health-care bill out of
committee, she said, "When history calls, history calls." And it's not
asking for baby steps."
let me see, what else, can you tell my heart is not really in this, i need to clcok some pages and get thru another manuscript, i have got to get these off my plate before the end of the year
if something else comes to mind while im working thru my day so be it
otherwise, im gone
let me leave you with this sand painting by illana yahav, youve got a friend
rdoc
MONDAY
so been thinking about pulling back from fb (and this blog) but everytime i do fb come thru with a new blessing, had made a comment recently on prezident browns
fan page, next thing i know i get a request for friendship from prezident brown, this floors me because prezident brown is one of my fav reggae folk ever, got this piece
call dem lose again that renew me in struggle whenever i play it, ran across a cd of his some years ago, to jah only, and hunted down everything of his i could find
now we been reasoning together, a fellow traveler and keeper of the faith, old boy count that as a blessing in life, musicians i respect pretty much the only folk i bow to
guess ima hang - no retreat no surrender
SUNDAY
panic day, havent done any work fri or sat, today is do or die, still working on john henry segment
been listening to nothing but john henry songs for the last week or so, got john henry on the brain
time for me to roll, get this done
last post had me thinking about students, both at the cuse and in the tradition,
thinking how much i need them, wasnt helping young writers be writers i wouldnt know what to do w/myself
to get paid for it is magical
what worth a mystic w/o students got the spiritworld manifesting real -
metafictional leakage
life at its best
in the tradition im of the line of o killens, its a longgame line nothing but the chosen
at the cuse we choose 6 of about 300+ applicants, nothing but the strong folk with potential of being true force, of being better than we are
they keep you nimble, keep you growing, just to stay up
keep that one step ahead the teacher want to stay current maintain
how else provide legitimate and viable guidance
dealing with young guns year after year keep you nimble, keep you growing
thats what its all about, right, growing, you get comfortable that mean its over
your run is done
i love my students, both at the cuse and in the tradition
they make me whole
at this point in my life their success as important to me as my own (well, damn near)
this post has begun to embarrass me, as you know, dear regulators, i been thinking about pulling back
been exposing much too much i mans soul lately
what happen with this blogging thing is you constantly escalating, digging deeper, hopefully growing in power, working off whats come before and
reaching for richer expression of whatever it is you selling
w/a literary blog its
yourself mostly
whatever - im out
rdoc
SATURDAY
hello world
(to get full effect of this post, hit link now and let music play in background while reading - trust me)
been feeling a little self conscious last couple of days, think i been being a little too exposed maybe thinking i should draw back on posting and facebooking and all that, cut off my afterburners maybe
the iching says that there are two ways of influencing human destiny for the superior personality affecting policy at the court (of pubic opinion) and withdrawal to work on yourself as a model of the future
i translate that as an alternating spiral of being out in the arena, making your vision manifest and withdrawal to renew and refresh to reassess and regenerate, to give it a rest sometime
personally sometime i get to wolfing and stepping out there boldly, then i get selfconscious and feeling like i need to be more modest and show a little more humility or something, a little less me me me me me
all this yak yak and no book out in almost a decade make me feel funny about myself
like im all talk and no work, no real
but this blog as a 21st century literary form is all me me me me me and i seem to be good at it and im very conscious of using it as an instrument
destiny work - i got a plan and im generating words and thats always good
but there are times when i feel like drawing back and i believe im feeling that right along here
but the problem is i got a constituency and whenever i draw back i can see my numbers dropping and that
distress me - ah temptation come in so many guises - we shall see
what brought me out my cave this morning is that im finally kinda caught up w/my schoolhouse work as much as one ever is, still got googabs of manuscripts to get thru, but official classwork caught up
got a couple of days i can give to my own
ran across this selection of cuts from gil scott herons new album coming out in a couple of months its some powerful stuff, you can hear the dues he has paid in his ravaged voice but his soul has grown
deep through struggle, some haunting work, im surprised he still got the chops, make you almost feel like its been a decent tradeoff for an artist
but i got to assume he would be even stronger if he had not walked down that path
ive had young trainees flirt w/that path and everytime i run across it it break my heart
and i be using gil scott as an example of how it can destroy a great talent
saying look what it did to gil scot, it took his health, it took his talent, it took his art
i think of ethridge knight and other folk i have loved got lost on that path, great artists who did powerful work while they were on the scene but their potential was surely cut down in their prime
folk like jimi and janis
once read a book about writers and all the things in life that cripple their lifetime output, drugs, politics, sex, etc, all the good things in life - everything in moderation i guess
i am moved by gil scott still putting out powerful work, if anything possibly more powerful
than the work of his youth and chagrined that it messes w/my argument, an argument i will
continue to make, for all the love i got for gil scott and his work, i wish to god he had been able
to step off that path,
i say the same for my young trainees thats tempted to fuck around,
folk w/all the talent in the world, all the potential in
the world to be truevoice, dont put your work your talent in hock to the devil
you just dont know what it will cost, you have no idea - i pray to all the gods of artists thats ever been that
you
step aside
i believe in you, i need you to believe in you too
coming into closure oon whats been a rough week, 1 more workshop and its collapse time both presentations seem to have gone well yesterday, project advance was most challenging
an hour of motivational speaking basically, but it went well, bunch of teachers, thats my world and they were easy on me, i told them my goal was to do this w/as little preparation as possible
they could relate to that,
but it was the edwidge presentation that came from the heart me and edwidge go all the way back and she comes out of that iterary hoodoo school or i
guess in her case literary voodoo so i gave her the full monty so to speak
i brought out the conch and i put the bells on, i considered the kalimba but decided that was overkill
i had planned to really throw down with this im gon sing your praise refrain at the end, had practiced it til it was wicked strong and going to bring the house down, but when i did the
comeforth bit she came forth and walked up on stage & stood there, it kinda threw me off my game
what i should have done is just stopped at that point, bowed to her and let her have the stage
instead of sticking to the plan i should have improvised and just shown respect
i bowed to her before i went on, she bowed back, respect respect, one literary practitioner to the other
i particularly liked that dewmaster bit, probably she and i the only ones realized i was calling on jacques roumain with that one, haitian writer who wrote masters of the dew and one of edwidges literary ancestors
that little crack on mfa writing exercises that was me nudging my students not to just write exercises but to write from the heart, i always look at these presentations as a chance to speak literary truth to my students
they probably my primary audience when i do those things, its always a meditation on the literary life as i see it, an attempt on my part to provide a little guidance
ive decided im going to give the next 2 weeks to getting thru these manuscripts, these unfulfilled obligations have begun to wear on my soul - finished mlk rewrite, sent it off, now these manuscripts
im going to forcemarch thru them like bolivian cadre, i literary (that was spose to be literally) have about 6 novels and as many shorts that have been piling up for a year now, ima have to just put my novel down, god help me, and get thru these
2 weeks, thats all ima give it, what i dont get thru in 2 weeks dont get got (i say ima put that novel down but i cant imagine actually doing so, ima try, or keep the hourly count down to 3 a day and give the rest to ofm - other folks manuscripts - ima try)
so this the piece i did for edwidge, you dear regulators will recognize a couple of my classic riffs in here during my research on edwidge to make this happen it reminded me how much i love what she do
she is in truth a fellow traveler,
back when we were young writers i hit on her at a party once, i dont think she even noticed, but we did become friends of a sort behind it, hey edwidge how you doing whenever i see her around
this experience though may have made literary running buddies of us
when she did comeforth and was about to do her reading she waved around her head and said i feel a little warm up here, all those spirits arthur called hanging around -
thats what im talking about - me and edwidge on the same wavelength when it come to spiritwork
im out, got to prep for my workshop, its been a grind of a week & i will be glad when its done
though my plan to do catchup this weekend means i dont get no rest this weekend, no rest for the weary
rest is when i am able to get my own work done, thats what renew me - thats all i ask
all my love
rdoc
------------------------------
PRAISESONG FOR EDWIDGE
Lord Legba open this gate, it is I Rickydoc rootdoctor ask that this gate be open and this work be done. I have come to sing a praisesong for edwidge, kric, yes im gon praise her, rickydoc gon praise her name – krak im gon praise your name
We have gathered here this evening to honor a master storyteller, a master griot. Edwidge wrote her 1st story while still a youngster in Haiti, of a little girl visited by a clan of women each night, she say her stories were given to her back in Haiti, and when she came to America she just brought them with her.
Haiti has always had a rich storytelling tradition, kricing and kracing, haiti storytellers considered national resources, storytelling aint no joke in Haiti. It is a master storyteller that has come to us this evening and we are honored by her presence, by the power of the word in this cathedral of the word.
From her early work, breath eyes memory she has been an acknowledged literary voice, a reputation that grows work after work with an ever widening emotional range and representing with a literary sophistication I can only envy, ffrom breath eyes memory through krik krak and the farming of bones, from beyond the mountains and the dew breaker to brother im dying she has given us a body of work that challenges the way we think about literature, about stories, about Haiti and women, about the human condition.
She has gathered a string of awards along the way, including the recent Macarthur, you go girl, but the one I like most from Jane Magazine, Gutsiest Woman of the Year.
It is a master griot that walks among us this evening, she say ``I come from a place where breath, eyes and memory are one, a place where you carry your past like the hair on your head,''
Let me run a couple of quotes from Epilogue: Women Like Us, by you. “You remember thinking while braiding your hair that you look a lot like your mother. You remember her silence when you laid your first notebook in front of her. Her disappointment when you told her that words would be your life's work, like the kitchen had always been hers. She was angry at you for not understanding. "And with what do you repay me? With scribbles on paper that are not worth the scratch of a pig's snout." The sacrifices had been too great.
Writers don't leave any mark in the world. Not the world were we are from. In our world, writers are tortured and killed if they are men. Called lying whores, then raped and killed, if they are women. In our world, if you write, you are a politician, and we know what happens to politicians. They end up in a prison dungeon with their bodies covered in scalding tar before they're forced to eat their own waste.”
Thats the sense of urgency Edwidge Danticat bring to the page, that commitment to the word, writing not an mfa exercise for edwidge, writing serious business, writing lifework, a mission from god, Edwidge write from the heart, Edwidge write work that matters, work that counts, because literature does, literature mean something.
“You remember thinking while braiding your hair that you look a lot like your mother and her mother before her. It was their whispers that pushed you, their murmurs over pots sizzling in your head. a thousand women urging you to speak through the blunt tip of your pencil. Kitchen poets, you call them. Ghosts like burnished branches of a flame tree. These women, they asked for your voice so that they could tell your mother in your place that yes, women like you do speak, even if they speak in tongues that are hard to understand.”
You see what Im saying. Edwidge be doing that voodoo thing, literature as conjuration, the artist as shaman, every book a spell, every draft a divination, opening minds to new possibilities, what Julie Dash call "rupturing their reality." Edwidge a mythmaker. Working at the crossroads. Her work is a sacred text. Rich in the mythologic, the sacred and the luminous, conjurational literature and at its best visionary, Edwidge be representing.
I am put to mind of her testimony before Congress when her Uncle died after being put in a concentration camp down in Miami. She told them “I write today not in my own name, but in the name—and stead—of a loved one who died while in the custody of Department of Homeland Security and the Krome Detention Center in Miami. His name was Joseph Nosius Dantica, and he was eighty-one years old.”
Edwidges work give voice to the voiceless, she has spoken not only for her uncle but all of Haiti in all its troubled glory, her work speaks for us all, for all humanity, with a vision that unflinchingly faces the human condition and finds in the struggle of it redemption. She is a witness.
I humbly ask that you COMEFORTH edwidge and bring the power, the we shall over COMEFORTH, and bring the blessing COMEFORTH and feed the soul, COMEFORTH spellwoman COMEFORTH magicwoman, COMEFORTH voodoowoman COMEFORTH erzuliwoman COMEFORTH yemaya, COMEFORTH zoraneale COMEFORTH dewmaster COMEFORTH harriettubman COMEFORTH bring your snake COMEFORTH, bring your rattle COMEFORTH bring the spirit COMEFORTH shake the devil COMEFORTH soulfeeder COMEFORTH spiritbreeder COMEFORTH strengthmaker COMEFORTH troublebreaker COMEFORTH pathfinder COMEFORTH make a way COMEFORTH show the way COMEFORTH blueswoman COMEFORTH edwidge gon serve you this evening, she gon sanctify this ground
we have gathered here this evening in the name of the word, the almighty word, in the name of art that nurtures the soul, art that provides a vision - for without vision the people will perish
im gon praise im gon praise im gon sing yo praisesong - with edwidge I suspect the best is yet to come, got nothing but love for you, my fellow traveler and keeper of the faith, may your work endure, may your song serve many generations - this ground has been prepared edwidge, come forth and do your thing
that last post distressed many of my friends and colleagues, had
folk emailing me telling me to hang in there, reassuring me that a luta
continua
major thanks to buffalo soldier and parker and mikael and other folk who tried to buck me up
im okay, those little up and downs i accept them as part of the deal, cause there days i feel like one of gods literary chosen, i ignore those too, i just keep writing, thats what i do
i just got back from amiris birthday party at the schomberg, it was the most wonderful experience
evan, my budding poet, said it was the best day of his life, then he corrected himself, except being born he said,
mildred barya went down too, i enjoyed introducing them to my crew,
mikael awake came through but he didnt stay, had to leave so he missed the party in the basement, bummer
we had a blast
first it was just the fact that amiri was there, and amina, two of the most wonderful folk on the planet
im going to do the piece i did for his book here, maybe as my next post,
what book you say, let me relate things in their proper order, what happen was that ted wilson
amiris buddy since way back, and some other folk, including adero, sam anderson, marie brown (where was marie, aint no party w/o marie) etc
got together to do a celebration of amiris 75th, they got a bunch of
folk to provide pieces for a commemorative book, then they got
donations for the book and im ashamed now i sent so little
but hey i did send and im glad im down as one of the donors, cause its a
beautiful book, some 400 something pages (im on page 418) so anyway,
they said get there early and bring the invite, so we trek on down
as behind as i am you know i dont feel like trekking to the city but missing amiris 75th was not an option
you will see why when i post my piece, the barakas i have known, ive
already posted it here but it seem called for again, so anyway down i
go, and apparently missing amiris 75th is not an option for my literary
comrades in arms either
everybody was there, everybody, folk i havent seen in 20 years,
folks i assaulted the literary barricades with as a cub, we all bigger,
grayer, carrying that gravitas, it was a gathering of the literary
elders of african american literature - the progressive wing, the activist wing, my fellow travelers and keepers of the faith
it was just wonderful, just what the old rootdoctor ordered for that case of literary blues i was carrying
and everytime you approached somebody and they remembered you and still loved you from 20 years ago it just fed the soul
so anyway, after greeting and hugging folk and being surprised at all the folk that was there we filed into the auditorium, standing room only, and the show commence, alternating bouts of poetry
and jazz, amiris favorites, there was a panel discussion, with of all people aishah rahman, god me and aishah go all the way back, there were young poets and elder warriors like sonya sanchez and everybody giving amiri and amina their props
the highpoint for me was craig harris and the didgeridoo ensemble he call the hoo doo hoo, you know i like that title, about 5 folk w/didgeridoos, ohman it was amazing what they made those didgeridoos do
then there was this youngsister whose name i dont remember did some poetry brought down the house
then at the end when everybody was on stage and somebody came up with the idea of picking amiri up on their shoulders and he was totally uncomfortable with the idea, we could see it in the audience but they couldnt see his expression or they woulda put him back him down cause he was not comfortable up there
no no, the highpoint was when amiri and amina started dancing in the audience to some jazz singer and ended up on stage slowdancing, god it was moving
the program went on a little longer than i cared for and i was considering ways to slip out the back when they said there was going to be a little after program dinner thing downstairs for the donors, which convince me to stay, even when mikael slipped on out the back - i didnt blame him but i wish he had stayed, we had a blast
i was sitting with my old literary crew, the new ren folk, adero, brenda, jacqui, lading, tom, (where was barbara, and new folk like judy and stacey and penda) but we had a full contingent, and oldschool folk like s. pearl and mervyn and esther louise and lamont and gary and louis reyes and redmond and rashidah and dawson (coverphoto), literary soldiers too many to mention
so then the party downstairs, it was restricted to donors w/rsvp invites, they were stopping folk at the head of the stairs who didnt have invites, which included evan and mildred, so we took the elevator down and slipped in the back, jack
this when the party started, folk eating good food, drinking good wine (cider for evan) catching up, getting emails and numbers etc and there was a frenzy of having folk sign copies of the book that they passed out to folk there
o another highpoint, when ted wilson at the end of the program gave amiri a copy of the book, another highpoint when we all got copies, it is such a wonderful thing, everybody is in it, i mean everybody, everybody stepped to the plate and sent some of their best work,
it is not only a wonderful gift to amir for that wall of books about him (see my entry) but its like a document of our literary generation and we had a run that rivals that of the harlem renaissance, just the story aint been told yet
evan was saying that he didnt know of amiri before now and we are all trying to make it clear to him the role that amiri has played in our literary generation, from his up against the wall days of the black arts 60s, when he shaped one of the most influential literary movements in african american literature and all the phases (and names) of amiri on up to his current days of eldership
i dont think there is anybody more respected in african american literature than amiri baraka, cept maybe toni morrison and thats a maybe, one of those apple and oranges things
so anyway we left about 8 oclock cause i had to make that trek back to syracuse, i ended up with 4 or 5 books from folk who had books come out recently and owed me trades, and my copy of let loose on the world
oh, wait, another highpoint, there was a let loose on the world documentary of amiri and it had extensive footage of sekou sundiata throwing down and i mean throwning down, i had already turned evan onto sekou
cause as yall know sekou was my running buddy, and when he came on the film folk in the audience start cheering and calling him out, se kou se kou se kou, im yelling se kou se kou at the top of my lungs, god it was wonderful
it was inspiring and touching and reaffirming,
so the 3 of us went and got some roti at that west indian joint on 124th and 5th and got on the road,
sunday the old roadwarrior just kind of crashed, its monday now and im determined to clock some pages, which mean another week of falling behind schoolhouse and novelmanuscripts to be read but what the hell
cant do a whole weekend without no pages
ony bummer is didnt get a chance to get through and see ms grace in the hospital, by the time we woulda trekked to brooklyn it would have been seriously late and i was concerned about staying awake long enuf to get back to syracuse safely, basically was trekking a 24 hour shift, im surprised i still had it in me
ima have to go back down in a week or so, i got to see ms grace
okay, im out, still kinda tired and trying to get some work done, i figure this posting got to be refined, maybe work on it some today, after clocking some pages
the anguished 'he hasnt done anything yet' bleats of the obama haters are a joy to my ears
they have picked up my spirits
a luta continua
FRIDAY
well well well, obama wins the nobel, nobel folk call themselves gaming, trying to help him implement his agenda, gon be real interesting to see how the obama haters will react to this one
i have to admit this one surprised me too, but it shouldnt have, the nobel committee always play serious politics with that peace prize, thats the whole point of it
they look at the condition of the world today and try to determine how best to enhance the cause of peace
always nice to give it to folk who have already made their contribution but even better to put your hand on the scale just when it might really count, when it might make a difference
obama was having trouble implementing his vision and the committee decided to do what they do - longgame
what else, looks like between the cbo saying the health bill is budget friendly and this opt out compromise thats been floated lately where the states can opt out of a public option we just might have a public option on the board, today been a good day and its just gotten started
what other news, i guess thats it, i personally got a little taste of the blues, look like im behind on every hand, in every way, w/everybody, everything,
mostly these damned manuscripts im supposed to be reading for folk, every week that pile gets bigger and bigger while i give every discretionary moment to this novel because im just so damned desperate to be thru w/this thing
im about a week behind on all fronts and im feeling a little weary, stretched a little thin
also i notice that the winner of the nobel prize for literature this year is only 56 and i think im having to accept the fact that im just not the important first string writer i always thought and hoped i was when i was a young cub
you reach that point in life where its like damnation im just not as special as i once thought i was and life has just been one big string of disappointment and unrealized potential
i once dreamed of being a nobel prize for literature contender and here i am 59 and damn near a literary hasbeen, constantly striving to stay one step ahead of my grad students, trying to keep their respect, disappointed every time the macarthur come up and im not on the list, still working on a novel that after 10 years has not yet come to life
ashamed of my earlier works and ashamed that they are out of print and look like i just cant get out from under all these commitments i be making to read other folks manuscripts and striving to give them good critiques that will help them break into a literary world tightening up every day
got two presentations ive agreed to do for folk next week that are going to take days of preparation off my schedule, for no discernible reward, sometime you just cant say no to colleagues in need
and kinda feeling inadequate when it come to helping my family, seem like all of them struggling and i only got so much to give beyond trying to keep my own head above water - and evan moving into the household has just become another tension point between me and bonnie, she thinks im too hard on him i think shes too indulgent and now shes mad at me all the time and expressing her perception of my inadequacy w/him, hes struggling woefully in school, sisters lights got turned off in spite of my little bi weekly contribution, im just tired, im weary in my bones tried -
then abiba tells me ms grace, whom i have not spoken to in a year or so and was feeling bad about that, is in the hospital in serious condition, going down to the city saturday for amiris birthday party, will try to find out where she is and go see her - try to get by and see john
man im really fighting off the blues up in here and shouldnt be putting my business in the street - perhaps i should quit posting while im in this funky state of mind, try to get a little writing done
feel good for my boy obama, this is a game changer
"Our struggle for liberation is indeed a long long distance race, for we are out for nothing short of winning the entire human race and we are up against a formidable foe. To win this race will require planning, pacing, discipline and stamina, and a belief in our ability to win the long protracted struggle. We must construct one hundred year plans; two hundred year plans. We must construct institutions for generations unborn." John Oliver Killens
I Am Flowers of the Delta Clan Flowers and the line of O. Killens.
This is the ritual 1st line of all my major works: a griotic opening, who you are and who you were trained by. I was trained by John O Killens; the Great Griot Master of Brooklyn.
Babajohn taught me not only how to write but how to be a writer, taught me how to be a visionary, what he called a longdistance runner, what I call the longgame. Babajohn showed me the way
Came to NYC in the summer of 73 to get into Babajohns workshop over at Columbia and stayed in it till he died in 1987. Whereever John taught he stipulated that his workshop would be open to the community and over the years he drew a cadre of young writers unto him. One by one my literary companeros y companeras were drawn into the circle of young writers following John O. Killens from Colombia to Howard to Bronx Community to his final resting place at Medgar Evers. Brooklyn. Crossroads of the Black World. I called it the Meeting Ground and Babajohn was its master griot.
13 years I followed John Killens from school to school. Only looking back do I see that I was learning what is called in mystic traditions, the unwritten knowledge - that which can only be learned from the extended example of the masters life.
I have internalized so many of John O’s precepts about being a writer that he continues to guide me. Wherever I go, whatever I do John O. Killens walks with me. I try to make him proud and I would never do anything as a writer that I dont think John O would approve of.
John O was a literary visionary, had this vision of blackwriters as ideological orchestrators, players on the hoodoo board of destiny:
"Our struggle for liberation is indeed a long long distance race, for we are out for nothing short of winning the entire human race and we are up against a formidable foe. To win this race will require planning, pacing, discipline and stamina, and a belief in our ability to win the long protracted struggle. We must construct one hundred year plans; two hundred year plans. We must construct institutions for generations unborn."
In pursuit of that vision he tried to make of himself a place where young writers grew, tried to institutionalize a black literary infrastructure.
In doing so he taught generations of writers in the longgame, trained us in how to be a literary mob, how to wield literary power, how to be successful writers – cultural influents.
We were all politicos and artistic activists who had come out of the Black Arts Movement, believed in art as an instrument of cultural empowerment, an instrument of redemption, that’s why we were drawn to John in the 1st place, he showed us how it was done.
First thing we all had to learn that politics cant carry a story. John used to tell us over and over, "The more important that you have to say, the more obligated you are to say it well.”
Preached craft, craft and more craft, told us we had to grow as craftsfolk for the rest of our literary lives.
Babajohn taught us that what makes a writer significant is not the popularity of the moment but the lifetime commitment to craft, content and character. Discipline and Sincerity. Taught us the judgment of any literary movement is the quality of the works produced by it: the issues raised pertinent to its generations: the ideological instruments forged to finesse its challenges: its influence on future literary work: its legacy.
But that in the final analysis it is always the Work that counts. Do it. Do it right.
John O Killens was irredemptively oldschool. He believed passionately in the moral dimension of literature. It was his understanding that you must constantly purify and refine your character, vision and craft, your understanding of the human condition and your generational relevance. A voice of your times. That it is the writers responsibility to be productive, significant and of the righteous. At all times willing to grow. To work hard. To pay your dues without whimpering. To aspire to work so powerful it can not be ignored.
There are moments in the life of a writer - fleeting moments – when youve done good pages or participated in a culturally significant moment that you aware of yourself as Historical. If you pull it off, you and your works will live in the hearts and aspirations of generations to come. To the extent that your Works are meaningful to those generations, to that extent are you Immortal.
The Longgame.
Over the years John O’s literary reputation declined and he is no longer read. His advice not to let politics overwhelm the craft was advice paid for in the coin of his own work.
But folk who leave John O out of any exploration of African American literature just dont understand the game. John Os influence transcends his work. John Os efforts to institutionalize a black literary infrastructure and train generations of blackwriters in the longgame will make his influence unprecedented. He left behind legions infused with a sense of responsibility for the tribal soul and destiny and the cultural skills to manifest it.
John O taught us to be cultural custodians, guide and guardian of the tribal soul and destiny, shield and spear
Babajohn tried to make sure we were not only powerful but righteous. In my literary youth I aspired to be a Machiavellian thinker who would forge blackfolk into a conquering horde and fling them into battle. Power was my field of study and people were just factors to be used. This was reflected in my work.
One day Babajohn pull me aside and said, "Art, you a brilliant writer but with a little compassion you could be profound."
I didnt get it. "Brilliant" was all I heard. It wasnt until many years later I realized he was trying to ensure that my artistic contribution to the tradition, my legacy as his student, would not be hard and cold but warm and loving - an old shaman trying to ensure the health of the tribal soul.
Babajohn considered literature a sacred calling. Believed that as the voice of a culture that has since its inception felt itself under mortal siege, African American literature is fundamentally shamanistic and vitally concerned with communal health and empowerment. Its most revered figures have all been culturally engaged, Langston, Zora, Ishmael, Amiri, Gayle, Toni, creating the visions without which the people will perish and serving in its mythic heart its age old griotic function of keeping the culture alive and viable.
There are times when I hate I ever read/met John Killens. Hadnt been for Babajohn I dont think I would be a novelist. Be some other kind of writer, some easier kind of writer.
Not really, I love being a novelist, I love being a writer, and on the real side I cannot fully express to you how proud I am to be one of John O. Killens legions. Knowing John O. like I did was a once in a generation experience. There will never be another like him, and I feel like I was totally blessed to know him, to have been trained by him, to be one of his crew, best damn literary crew ever was – and with everything I do I praise his name - my mentor in struggle - Babajohn O Killens, the great griot master of Brooklyn.
John O. Killens died May 1987. He had been terminally sick for awhile, in and out of the hospital, one of those folks who just refuse to go, a fighter to the bitter end. The last time I saw him I went out to Brooklyn, and the house full of folks on the deathwatch. John on the second floor. I go up to see him and Im shocked. He laying there all thin and wasted, a pale reflection of who I knew him to be, skin and bones and spirit.
We talk. He knew I was thinking about going to L.A. and he told me to be careful out there, dont get lost out there he told me, dont let ever money rule the work. Barely speak and still trying to provide guidance.
I assured him I would keep the faith.
Then he ask me to lift him up. Put him in a chair that was sitting by the bed. I carefully slide my arms behind his knees and his back and when I lift him I stumble, shocked how feather light he is. I very carefully place him in the chair and arrange the blanket over him. Call Amazing Grace, he say, thats what he call Ms Grace, Amazing. I call her and she come upstairs and beam at him sitting there so proud.
Im sitting up, he told her. I see you are, she say. I like to know what's going on around me, he say. I know you do, she say
Babajohn O Killens. The Great Griot Master of Brooklyn.
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