little thoughts: what if there were no niggas,

only master teachers?- Erykah Badu

Last night I had the pleasure of delighting in the conversation of a wise and spirited artist. We had only met each other once before at a loft party in williamsburg a couple of months ago. It was there she taught me, in the most human way of teaching, about BDSM and consensual violence. After listening to her explanation and actually engaging in conversation with her for what felt like hours, I walked away with a sense of understanding that reading a dozen books on the topic would have failed in providing. The incident helped solidify a breakthrough that I was having in my life at the time. Every person has an infinite amount of lessons to teach if you let them. Although we were surrounded by the intense noise of a huge dance party, we were still able to carve out a classroom in that space.

Fortunately, we were able to maintain a level of mutual excitement last night. We made a ritual out of smoking hookah and getting it "just right". We agreed that there should be more ceremonies for people to commune over in everyday life. Lighting coals and watching embers fizzle being one of them. In our quest towards the greater bowl pack we conceded that it was about progress rather than perfection. I expressed my appreciation for her inviting me over to her space on a Friday night for some low key fun and conversation. I told her about my living situation and how much I love my current roommate. They would love each other, or at least have tons to talk about, you see: both are visual artists and both engage in work dealing with sexuality and femininity. We're going to have a nice date in the future. She thought that my plans for my room are fairly interesting.

As you may know from earlier posts, I've got very few things to my name. I think I own about six books, one laundry bag filled with cloths, my camera, my laptop, a couple of CDs, and a pair of shoes at the moment. I recently purchased an air mattress to sleep on since I have settled down with Diana after a summer of vagrancy. I'm still working hard on keeping my things to the bare minimum or most efficient level of usage. However, in addition to giving way things I am trying to become more mindful of my level of consumption. I'm challenging my self to spend less, and reduce my "footprint". Subsequently, I've been storing everything I've consumed in my apartment in my room. Right now there is a couple of beer cans, cardboard boxes, fruit netting, receipts, and plum pits. I'm working on ways to rearrange this in an aesthetically pleasing manner, but as of now it's pretty lo-fi and punk looking.

This lead us to wonder about landfills and where all of our junk is going. We did a little research and learned that many landfills become parks eventually. I thought that it was an interesting connection to think of parks in urban spaces as little fills of land. It also made me think of my friend Tracey who once told me "concrete is litter". It also made me think of how my favorite words have multiple meanings that coalesce to create a greater meaning. Like the translation of lo siento being "I feel it" and "I'm sorry". Which also made me think of how we all use the same words differently. Everyone's got their own definition for love, and we all say it, and sometimes it fits the situation and sometimes it just complicates things, and sometimes it just is. I've been thinking about this a lot. Everybody's got their own love to give in their own language. I've realized that it isn't really wise to "dream of a common language" but rather it is better to engage in a conversation of translations. You tell me what you feel when you say/see/hear this, and I will do my best to listen and respond in my sincerest posture.

I get off the subway and there are cops driving on the sidewalks. Hordes of people are making their way back in to the projects and the air smells like fireworks. As I purchase two beers from the bodega I overhear a group of men talking about "Bronx niggas not knowing how to act". I text Diana saying "the block is hot, huh? Smells like gunshots". I get to the apartment before she responds and hand here a beer. "They didn't have any Lucy's at the bodega". She kisses thanks, and we are excited to see each other after a weeklong hiatus. I told her "I've been trying to wash those dishes for like a week but I was just too lethargic since you've been gone." She informs me that there was a riot on our block: a whole bunch of people from different buildings just started fighting in the street and the pigs rained down in less than two minutes. She expresses frustration about seeing black on black crime and people of color tearing each other down instead of institutions and how cops get hard-ons over using power. She heard that the buildings in the neighborhood get in to fights with each other. I said "It must be really fun, it's probably like playing dungeons and dragons or something, every building has it's wizard and paladin." She laughs, and things are easy. I've come to realize that I am deeply attached to those I can make laugh with my dry sense of humor. Our house is filled with laughter and I walk around with my hair tied up. Our hardest decisions are debates on how to hang our tapestries and our vision for the rest of the space. From the other room Diana says Winston, I love you. It is just a thing that we do, love. We engage in a conversation about what it means when we say that and although our meanings are different, they work for our little rooms.

Diana's love: I care about you deeply.
Winston's love: 1. You are my family. 2. I feel free/encouraged to be anything I want around you.

Today, I am yet again domestic and reflective. Diana is off being a revolutionary and I am missing her. I am working on my zine Doppelganger 3. I am also creating a draft for an essay on zines and community building. Another thing that the unnamed artist and I talked about last night was the balance between being a homebody and navigating through multiple social groups/niches. We appreciated that NY offers so many little villages of sub-altern communities to participate in. I am looking forward to hanging with friends I've made from the internet and the small afro-punk meetup tonight. I am looking forward to spreading this little dream of love I am steeping in.