I Admit It. I Have To Do Better.

Sorry, yawl.
(via GIPHY)

I don't know why it is so difficult for me to keep up with my blog. I find myself apologising to you lot more often than not. I'm sorry I haven't been active, and I will try to do better with this.

I. Can't. Even.
(via GfyCat)

Things have seemingly gone to shxt, haven't they? Life as we knew it has become something entirely different. You're locked down in the house. Any plans you had are suddenly up in the air or obliterated. None of the days feel like what they are (every day feels like Sunday to me). Nothing is certain-- not that things were before, but this really is a take-it-day-by-day situation. Moment-by-moment, even. This is how I've had to handle things.

I'm good.
(via GIPHY)

It hasn't been that difficult for me, the lockdown, and I can thank my only-child upbringing for that. I've baked bread, written lyrics, worked on a novel, updated my website, taken some (or started taking some) courses, made plans on how to best utilise my time, and just practised gratitude. I had been doing that in some form or fash anyway, but I have been doing it even more as of late. I really am grateful that I have this crazy clowder, who I love dearly.


I have also been taking more time to chat with my ancestors when I pray. I've begun living my life knowing that they are behind me, beside me, in front of me. I thank them for their contributions and for guiding me every day.

I have also been reading a lot. I can always turn to that when I have nothing else to do. It's one of my favourite pastimes anyway, but I know that if I don't have power, I can always find a flashlight and dig into a book.

It hasn't always been easy-- life still throws challenges at you (Peace broke my Sekhmet's arm off, our property management is being kind of a...pain, where the hell are eggs when you want them, the rum's gone) -- but it's also sent some bright spots (I'll be gifted another Sekhmet, someone gave us some eggs, people have been very generous, I went live on Instagram with one of my homies and did some songs). You take the bitter with the sweet, I suppose.

Yesterday, things finally came to a head for a situation in my life, and I am still reeling from that. I can only hope that this means I can make a way forward unfettered. Hoist my colours and bring me that horizon.

Yeh.
(via GIPHY)

I hope that, despite the fact that I cannot seem to stay blogging or sending a regular newsletter, you will continue to stick by me, GNOtaku. It seems that the wind is changing.

This. Stops. NOW.

GTFO. Bye.

I have been systematically removing all that is not best for my growth or that no longer serves as a positive force in my life--people, places, things, and ideas. Not things that might be challenging or uncomfortable, but shxt that is straight toxic.

Predators posing as house pets. People who say things that cause me to doubt and/or question my own power, or cause me to feel bad about myself--even if they are family. Dismissive, self-important/self-centered people. People who project their own negative beliefs ("I'm old/getting old/too old to change, learn, do something, or better myself" i.e.: "I'm set in my ways so fxck dat") onto myself and others. People who insult me in the guise of humour, or who insult me and then try to clean it up with flattery (like that makes it better. Making someone you care about feel like shxt isn't funny, cute, or constructive--it's poisonous).

Oh, really? You gotta go.

Stagnant energy, anything that hinders, including my and other people's harmful careless thoughts and beliefs. This is up to and including the use of the old name, because if I asked that it not be used and people keep doing so, or refuse to respect my wish to address me by my TRUE name for the sake of their or another's convenience, I take that as they wish me ill or they wan fi test me, and those people have NO place in my life.

Oh, HELL no...👏you. 👏Gotta. 👏GEAUX.

Thoughts are things; words carry energy...and I will not allow that dead-body energy around me. The old name carries that sort of energy. Those limiting beliefs have that sort of energy. Any and all of that needs to go. I have tolerated these, whether they be people, places, or things for too long, and I refuse to allow it in my life anymore. 5D>3D.

No more going along to get along, because that seemed to lead to trouble every time I did it (The TestosterXONE, NCC, certain business deals and purrsonal relationships). No more tolerating  abusive behaviour disguised as "it's just business". No more allowing people to use me or others around me. I will trust my intuition, and yeet this stuff away from me and mine. If it even smells slightly deadly, it's gotta go.

Yeet.

I used to have a three-strikes rule, which got whittled down to one-strike reeeeeal quick once I learnt I was better than that. I used to give second and third chances. I stopped doing that years ago. Realising that I was in relationships with two malignant narcs and friends with narcs--that I was RAISED by narcs-- has FINALLY taught me to guard my energy from ANYONE who even vaguely looks like they are coming for it. I will 👏cut. 👏You. 👏OFF.✂

Nope.

I'm not giving anyone a gun to try to shoot me again because they missed me the first time. "Fxck" and "that"--in that order. I believe in ✂cutting✂ the tumours out, now. I won't live with the disease anymore; it's gotta get cured.

Yeet again. (Another one I had to make but I didn't save the first one. Oops. via GIPHY)

Public Service Announcement

via Board of Wisdom

📣PSA:



Promoters/Gatekeepers/Influencers:

You can't simultaneously be supportive and dismissive of an artist.



If you approach an artist verbally about your interest in them and say you will follow up...



FOLLOW UP.



The ball is in your court. Don't wait for the artist to come to you. You expressed interest. If you fail to follow up we will just move on, much as you would if the roles were reversed. You can't even be mad if an artist complains about your lack of professionalism.

via Giphy

On the other side of that coin...artists, if you approach these people verbally and say you will contact them, do so. You went to them. Follow through. It's okay to pitch yourself to blogs and publications. How else will they know you? It is also okay to make yourself so known they come to you.



When an artist complains once in awhile about not getting the recognition they know they actually (read: not think they do) deserve when they have been grinding forever and walking their talk, it's not always entitlement. It's reality, because people out here still treating the entertainment like they mean nothing, and the first people to bxtch about our unrest are the promoters who do their damndest to milk every indie artist for their hard earned money.

Promoters be like:
(via Giphy)

Pay you just to be on your obscure radio show or podcast? No.



Pay you hundreds to be in a slot on a tour or so-called "industry showcase" that might not even be at a time when people see me? Nope.



Pay you to perform for less than ten minutes at a glorified block party? Fxck dat shxt.



Pay you for an interview in a magazine that pretty much was printed on your HP Envy and left in the corner of a bodega window and call it distribution? Really?!



No, you're right--nobody owes us anything... but for just being human and alive we deserve respect...until we prove otherwise.

We do have the right to vent our frustration. If you take offence, you are probably guilty.

It's prolly you.
(via Giphy)

Open Letter To Whichever Con, Venue, or Event Is Guilty

Dear Anime Cons, Pop Culture Cons, Venues, And Other Geeky Events:

I posted this on IG once. Some broad tagged her g/f  with"WTF is she on? LOL"
I answered: "Another level. Next!"
📸credit: L.I.T. Photography

Yeh, so, I'm not visually Japanese or passable for Japanese.
I can't pass the Paper Bag Test or be part of the Blue Vein Society.

I don't have the fabled "good hair".
I'm not size 4. I don't have the ecchi body.

I don't do accurate full-on cosplays because I *am* my own cosplay.
I may not be your idea of kawaii, but frfr: Kawaii isn't *supposed* to be purrfect or the conventional beauty.

I'm not as nerdcore as I'd like to be (haven't found the right producer who has the stones to work with me on it).
I don't have the social media numbers of some of my colleagues.

Yes, I *am* a hip-hop artist.

This doesn't mean I am inappropriate, scary, that ALL my material is riddled with violence or curses or the N-word every three words, or I cannot be "family-friendly". Sure--I do have some stuff with profanity or provocative subject matter because life ain't Mr. Rogers Neighbourhood, but you will *never* hear me purrform any of it at a family event.

Awh. Loved this guy.
(via Tenor)

I am in my own lane, on the same highway as other people of my ilk. I know that some of you have overlooked me for something "safer", something more aesthetically pleasing...more Japanese. I have been in talks with some of you only to be ignored, and see other acts be chosen instead, who get away with using hip-hop in their music influences, and I am no worse than they are. (Yeh. I saw that.)

I totally did.
(via gifs.com)

I may not be any of the things above, but I am professional, I am good at what I do, and at least I'm not visually uninteresting.
I don't think I should be mushed aside because I am not any of the above. I was still relevant to your event. It's not as if you didn't have acts there.

ThaGataNegrra isn't a gimmick, and is just barely an alter ego. This is what you get all the time. I may not be as visually loud when I'm going to Walmart or whatever, but those cat ears may as well be grafted to my head because that's me. ALLA. DAMNED. TIME.

Again: The kawaii is real, not some shxt I made up to seem interesting or appealing.
The geekiness is real, not geek chic like some prominent female rappers I could name.

The ears are worn because channeling totems, not because they cute. If that were the case you'd only see me with them onstage and in pix (Catch me at Shoprite and see if I'm fxcking kidding).

I come to you because where *else* am I going to be appreciated? Certainly not with what you assume is "my kind" musically. But it's like everything else: it's okay if someone not as heavily melanated is doing it. Straight up-- if I could pass the paper bag test...you would be all over me.

Deal with that for a minute. Marinate in it.


A lot of you "nerdy" promoters are fxcking guilty of this harsh fact. Don't think I don't look at your pictures of your events. I do.

I have been lied to numerous times by promoters to deter me from participating in events-- any thing from "The dj doesn't have a mic" to "we don't have the space".

I have been straight ignored by photographers at events for whatever reason.

I've heard some people were afraid I'd outshine them so they didn't book me, which...what the actual hell? REALLY?

In some cases, I'm pretty sure my name has been smeared and rumours spread to cast doubt on me. If you listened or entertained any thoughts that they were true, for even one second, you are an asshole. Yeh--I *said* it. You should have come to me and asked yourself.

Yawl cannot have it both ways. Do *not* smile in my face then stab me in the back. At least have the decency to let me see the knife coming.

That said, I'm gonna thank those who took a chance on me and wasn't scared off by anything. I know that has changed now for a lot of you. It is what it is. I'll live. As I've said before, I don't expect you to get me now.

Maybe you'll see me again. Maybe you won't. Still going to be me with or without you.

30-Day Music Challenge: Days 24-26

Man! I fell off again due to holiday prepping and celebrating! But I'm just gonna pick up where I left off...

Day 24 sez "a song by a band you wish was still together".


"Bullet With Butterfly Wings"--Smashing Pumpkins
Yes-- I realise the band is still a thing, but it is NOT the original lineup...
(EDIT 12-2-18: Okay, the band is now 3/4 the original lineup and that's acceptable. Fun fact: I was supposed to see them this summer but didn't get there! Free tix and everything! Great regret. (T_T) )




 Day 25: "a song you like by an artist no longer living".




"The Man Who Sold The World"--Nirvana.

Yes, there are two surviving members, but neither the band nor Kurt are no longer with us.


Day 26: "a song that makes you want to fall in love".

I'm already there, so...

 

"The Greatest Romance Ever Sold"--Prince.

I'm so happy I got it right this time.
He is, too.

30-Day Music Challenge: Day Twelve

So Day Twelve calls for a song from my preteen years.

Like I did in a previous music challenge, I'm gonna keep you guessing when that was, because music from various decades has been prevalent in my life since conception, LOL.




NuShooz-- "Point Of No Return".



Michael Jackson-- "Rock With You".




Nirvana-- "In Bloom".




Run-DMC--"King Of Rock".

Regarding The Song Whose Title I Won’t Post In This Blog Title

Hey, minna-san...
I know-- it's been like literally a year since I last posted. I have to admit it's because I just kind of fell off. I had no net for a minute, and then I was just still trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the design of the site and everything. Plus touring and making re-release plans for "P.R.O.W.L.", raising my clowder...it's been a lot. So I apologise.

This is long, so getcher popcorn ready, GNOtaku.

I wrote a note on Facebook awhile back about one of the songs on "P.R.O.W.L." that I got into a row with one of my team about; a title I cannot really mention here due to issues brought on by a narcissistic entity. Someone took it upon themselves to trademark a phrase that I had been using for years because they were butthurt that 0 Fxcks Given has been my policy for dealing with them for nearly the past ten years. That, and a party thrown last year after freaking Newark Comic Con. Petty revenge-- usual modus operandi for them, I suppose, to throw a monkey wrench in my plans per the norm. Stop "the bomb from becoming".

Another one I had to make. It happens.

Get over it, Veruca. The bomb is still becoming. The bomb is ALWAYS becoming.

...but I digress. That's the abridged version of the backstory.

The argument was that I was “too talented” to just "write responses" to the aforementioned person, and I needed to start writing hits, which, in their opinion, I was good at doing. As if writing responses to them is all I ever do--like that's my whole catalogue.

Which, whether or not they want to accept it, the song I’m referring to above (which I also cannot post here) is decidedly not.

In 2011, after Y E A R S of taking shxt and abuse from her camp and fanbase--up to and including death threats to myself and some GNOtaku--I finally decided to tell my side of things in the way I knew to express myself best--I fxcking rhymed the shxt out of it.




I argued, “No-- this ^^^ was the response to her.” Like, six fxcking years ago...

I argued that they were gonna think what they wanted, no matter what I said, since they had it in their head that E V E R Y T H I N G I bloody do is a response to her--much like she does, come to that. I said I can’t worry about what other people think on what I do, or how it looks to the neighbours. Did too much of that in Past-Life (pre-GATA); ain’t nobody got time for that shxt now.

I will admit, now that I think about it (and I actually have said this out loud before), that I have a lot to purge about the stuff that is still happening, the stuff I haven’t addressed, the stuff the babymomma was doing, the shxt they did to both of us together that I feel I truly need to get rid of. IDGAFF if they hear it, cuz it’s not for them.

It’s for me. To cleanse me. My own form of therapy. Not everything has to be a diss track or a response.

But, again, just to be clear--and for those in the rafters not tryna hear me:

THE SONG THAT I MENTION BUT AM NOT POSTING IS NOT ABOUT OR A RESPONSE FOR THAT PERSON.

The argument got so heated--with supposed examples to back it up on their end (of which they admitted they had no source but themselves)--that I eventually had to abruptly end the conversation. I was frustrated beyond frustrated. WTF. Why is this even an issue?

I even asked them if they REALLY listened to the lyrics of the song. I mean...they should have done, for good reason, because this individual is in my camp. I’m guessing no...because if they had, they wouldn’t have fixed their face to say this to me, and argue me down about it.

It occurred to me that I should prolly just break down the lyrics.

Here I present the lyrics, broken down, to the song. I should probably do this on Genius someday.




I came out swinging fighting for every single breath
(I was born with a condition that caused me to be born prematurely. I had to fight said condition to stay alive.)

Prolly keep on fighting till I lay down for my death
(Said because that seems to be my lot in life since my birth. I’ve had to fight many battles just to exist. I’m still fxcking fighting them and I imagine I will have to until I’m gone.)

They don’t make ‘em like me no more prolly never did
Dime a doz nah cuz you can see I’m not a typ

–ical chyck I’m a new brew for yer palate
(Well, that’s self-explanatory. I have always been different. The mold was broken, I’m not a dime a dozen, etc. I’m not what people expect when you say “hip-hop artist”. Or, “from Newark”, for that matter. “New brew”--different from what folx are used to. Tea metaphor.)

Hitting like Mjolnir or a cartoon mallet
(I might knock you for a loop like Thor’s hammer or one of those Looney Tunes Acme mallets, because you might not know what to make of me.)

That ain’t all folx (another Looney Tunes reference) I’m just getting gwan
I’m here to educate you on the vida of the nyan
(NYANVIDA--”nyan life”. My philosophy as such: The importance of being yourself and being brave enough to stand and roar your truth.)

Blackest cat on the block blackest sheep in the flock
No place in my race wouldn’t fit in a box
(I didn’t belong anywhere. Still don’t quite belong anywhere: “blackest sheep”. And people had trouble putting me in a niche, so I was always labeled “white”. So eff them--”blackest cat”.)

So I had no choice but to follow my voice
Rocking the box the new style bring the noise
(I decided to just be me, and rhyme what I rhyme, about what I choose, what was true for me, not for everyone else. I reference some of my  influences by their lyrics: Run-DMC, Beastie Boys, Public Enemy.)

I took the red pill evolved to black cat
Heralded my change and the clones don’t accept that
(“The Matrix” reference, meaning that I chose to follow truth [the red pill] and embraced who I am fully [the name change on all fronts, until I also did it legally] and there was and still is a tonne of opposition because I had the clitoral fortitude to do this for me, and we all know people hate what they don’t get, and are mad that they don’t have the nuts to do the same [a “glitch in their matrix”]. I evolved to Gata Negrra/ThaGataNegrra. Simply saying it aloud, writing it down repeatedly, that was the signal for the evolution. I was my own herald [“it happens when they change something”].)

Capitalise yeh I did it-- spay me never
You tore me down I pulled myself together
(Partly references the fact that I capitalise it [and had been capitalising it for years] for emphasis [GATA] and that I took me and ran with it. References being shat on for doing this, for shedding my Past-Life energy, for knowing that I am resilient. I didn’t stay broken.)

T-h-a G-a-t-a … N-e-g-r-r-a
T-r-u-e O-r-i-g-i-n-a-l G-a-t-a
Whatcha say whatcha say…
T-h-a G-a-t-a… N-e-g-r-r-a
T-r-u-e O-r-i-g-i-n-a-l G-a-t-a
All day all day
(Literally spelling it out for you. Affirming that this is me “all day”.)

There was a time when they thought Dei sold out
So I evolved transformed and rolled out
I bumped her off so there wouldn’t be no doubt
I wasn’t soft I was letting my bold out
(This is about Past-Lifer. I had a different name, the nickname for which was Dei [dee], and once I had been liberated of my place in my former tribe and went out on my own musically, there was criticism on several fronts that I had “gone soft” and “become a dance diva”. “You’re not supposed to be doing this type of shxt,” they said. That last came from a source that I trusted at the time; they may have lied about everything else, but on this they were spot on.

So, I “killed” her. I began again. I remember actually saying: “I’m gonna have to kill this bxtch” out loud. So I evolved--loudly. Or, more accurately: continued to evolve more loudly; the evolution was already happening before I realised it. The bomb was already becoming.
 You know where “transform and roll out” comes from.)

All I ever did was land on my feet
And the powers that be pointed that out to me
They said “Daughter go be ‘xactly who you meant to be
You are duality and adaptability
(This is referencing a dream/vision I had about Bast and Sekhmet. They were the ones who encouraged me to go full-on and reinvent myself. Also, cats land on their feet--more points to my resilience. Duality, meaning I’m both dark and light, sweet/tart, you get the idea. And adaptability speaks for itself.)

“Sun moon stars go and craft those bars
Break your chains show the world those scars
You earned them from a hard-won battle well-fought
Honour us honour you honour them with what you brought”
(Short version of O/our conversation in the vision. “Don’t be ashamed of all the scars you earned from your fight. Show them. Free yourself. Embrace yourself and all your flaws. By doing so, you honour Us, and in turn, yourself” and you, GNOtaku, by proxy, because it would be dishonourable to you for me to be phony. Kind of like that “freedom is power” speech in Catwoman, except for real.)

So I’m coming at you from my temple cell in the booth
Some nyan cuz it’s cute I nyan cuz it’s truth
You see me see me rock my nekomimi mimi while
Some do it for looks I do it cuz life and style
(I’m telling you this on record, in the recording booth, my room in my sanctuary; my habitat. Some say “nyan” [Japanese onomatopoeia for the sound a cat makes] because it’s cute/kawaii, but it’s a badge of honour for me as a cat grrrl [not that it’s not kawaii; it’s just not the main why]. I wear the ears/am a catgrrrl [nekomimi] while I do this because it’s part of who I am, not some fashion statement.)

T-h-a G-a-t-a … N-e-g-r-r-a
T-r-u-e O-r-i-g-i-n-a-l G-a-t-a
Whatcha say whatcha say…
T-h-a G-a-t-a… N-e-g-r-r-a
T-r-u-e O-r-i-g-i-n-a-l G-a-t-a

I am living breathing cognitive dissonance
(Weird, yes, I know. Cognitive dissonance is “the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions and attitude change.” I said this because I am a lot of things that conflict with each other, and because people are always mixed in response to what I do [“hip-hop isn’t my thing but I like your music!”].)

Brix prowling straight sui generis
(“Sui generis” is “of his, her, its, or their own kind; unique”. “Brix prowling”--going around Newark...”Brick City”.)

Tragic beautiful abysmal princess
 (places I shopped, LOL)
DiosaAniManga serving cat grrrl realness
(“Anime/Manga Cat Goddyss”. Was actually labeled that by someone. “Serving catgrrrl realness”...showing you as much of my meowness as is allowed. “Serving realness” is a drag term. What can I say--I grew up around drag queens.)

This be the source my origin tale
Condensed to make sense on a much shorter scale
(Basically, what it sez: the short version of how I came to be who I am.)

I’m betting you expected me to go off the rails
Another one you’d love to call a grand epic fail
(My haters, going all the way back to kittenhood, always pray to their petty gods for me to fail, but I haven’t gone anywhere. They expected me to commit suicide, to not do my music, to fade away quietly. These are things that haven’t happened.)

My evolution wasn’t televised so
Folx think I’m that chyck from long time ago
(People who knew me in Past-Life think I am the same person I was then. I’m not. Very few of them had a front-row seat to me changing [“wasn’t televised”] so they are running off old information. Is a reference to Gil Scott-Heron’s “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”.)
(I love how in the most recent "Black Panther" trailer they use that piece.)

Nine lives close scrapes unscathed bring hate
Reinvent new paint same core same strength
(It is said that cats have nine lives. Beginning to wonder if that’s true considering the fact that I should be dead a few times over. I’ve had some close calls, but got out mostly intact. Because of this, the haters hate me--I haven’t gone away, as I’ve already pointed out. I may have reinvented myself, but don’t worry--I am still the best parts of me, the parts you liked.)

I’m the original and the improvement
Brand upgrades with every thought every movement
(Self-explanatory. I’ve been called a trendsetter, there are people who have done “me” verbatim [but without realness] or followed my example, and because I continue to get better all the time, I am the improvement of myself. I’m constantly upgrading to a better me.)

You thought you knew but you had no idea
And I ain’t done it’s just the tip of the spear
(A nod to MTV’s “Diary” which usually ended its intros with “you think you know, but you have no idea”. Means that people only know what they’ve heard, but not my story until now. I’m not done, you haven’t seen anything yet--I said “spear” because “iceberg” doesn’t rhyme, LOL.)

T-h-a G-a-t-a … N-e-g-r-r-a
T-r-u-e O-r-i-g-i-n-a-l G-a-t-a
Whatcha say whatcha say…
T-h-a G-a-t-a… N-e-g-r-r-a
T-r-u-e O-r-i-g-i-n-a-l G-a-t-a
All day all day

That’s...pretty much it. If you read this far, arigato. I appreciate it. I hope it gave you a bit more insight into the lyrics, and in turn, who I am and what I was really saying.

Haven't Blogged in Awhile.

Apologies, minna-san.

I've really been busy, and I also haven't really had much to say. If you're with me so far, you know the following:

--I finished my second album
--I've been gigging steadily, and even headlined one gig
--I did end up playing Newark Pride after all (thank you, guys)
--We added another dancer to the ranks

Other than that, I've just been going along. It's been hard but it's been worth it, and I've nearly achieved this year's goals.

It's in that spirit that I'm going to share a Facebook post I did, because I'm sure there's other indie acts who are feeling the same way I am.

I am not bitter this time, I promise. I'm just making a declaration to and a request of the Universe.

Declaration to the Universe:
I know You are rewarding me for taking risks.
I also know You are testing me, as well, to see if I still want this.
If it isn't obvious enough to You by now that I CAN and AM doing this because I want to, I don't know what more I can show or tell You.

I humbly submit the following:

I've gigged with a 101 degree fever and the bloody flu.
I've gigged in a literal hurricane (Irene, to be specific. FACTS).
I've gigged with no sound equipment.
I've gigged with no audience.
I've gigged for no pay.
I've gigged at walks, marathons, and animal benefits in the cold.
I've gigged at places where they absolutely hated me...and gained respect and fans anyway.
I've gigged with damned near no voice. 
I've gigged totally depressed, like "fxck EVERYONE" depressed.
I've gigged when a loved one has died.
I've been humiliated, scorned, and harassed.
I've even endured threats of bodily harm.
I've sacrificed things I shouldn't have had to for this.
I've taken more hits than I can count.
I've lost friends and family because I believe in what I do.

There is not a day spent where I'm not scouring for things to further my brand. No day where I haven't suggested to my reps what cons were going on and worked with them to think and go bigger.
There is no day where I'm not setting goals for myself.
There is no day where I'm not scratching and climbing.
There is no day that I'm not fighting for distinction in the wake of shapeshifting imihaters, and still forcing my head high.
And there is no day that I am not proud to do what I do.

These are facts.

I may not have full-on cosplays from scratch, I may not "look the part", I may not fit anywhere but with a small niche of geeks. There are people who may not get me, or care what I have to offer for one reason or another. But, Universe, I have not stopped.

I've been moving forward, even with those who would see me fail throwing all sorts of things in my path. Even with those who mean well inadvertently throwing things in my path because it's not as important to them as it is to me.

Does that not tell You, then, that I want this?

When it comes time for the grades, please mark me with "pass", and mark me present for every day whilst You're at it.
I'm ready.
Lemme graduate.

Saying Goodbye Again; My Inner Superhero

This week has been a really trying one for meows truly.

Two years ago, on October 3rd, my maternal aunt, Caroline, died of cancer. Last week, I buried my other maternal aunt, Constance…who also succumbed to cancer—uterine this time. I’ve never had to help plan a funeral before, and needless to say it was emotionally trying. It was also exhausting in that we had to see that her affairs were in order; thankfully, her legal affairs and whatnot were (unlike with my other aunt), but cancelling subscriptions, alerting people, and all the other arrangements can indeed take a toll. Dealing with the harsh reality that someone who helped mold you in your early years more than you realised is no longer here…that’s a bit much. And, every death in my immediate family makes me brood on my own mortality, but this hit home even more so due to my abnormal-cells scare.

 Also… this leaves my mother, the baby of four children, as the last of her siblings. That, for some reason, breaks my heart. My mother and I haven’t always had the easiest relationship, but I cannot bear that she is the only one left. I have resolved to be there for her more than I have been henceforth. So that is why I’ve barely left my mother’s side for the last few days.

I wrote my aunt’s obituary, and as I was doing that, I remembered all sorts of things that we’d done together when I was a Gatita. She passed along to me the love of musicals, crafting, baking, and got me interested in knitting, sewing, and crocheting. She taught me to appreciate gardening, lavender, and tulips—so much so I insisted on having the latter in her floral arrangements.

I realised that, even though we’d stopped being close in my tweenage years (that is a weird phenomenon in the Closson family; do not ask me why), I really missed those times, and I really missed my Aunt Sissy. I also resolved that I would again take up sewing and knitting, and I would buy tulips every year in her honour. I will also teach my Grrl Cub all about “The Sound of Music” and “The King and I”, which shouldn’t be hard, since she loves singing and dancing.

Even in her last days, she joked… it seemed that she’d begun displaying this wry sense of humour I hadn’t seen in a very long time, telling me that if I was gonna sit and visit her at the nursing home, I was gonna have to deal with “this ugly noise”—she was in considerable pain despite the meds, and moaned a fair bit. She asked me to hold her hand and gently ribbed me about “not rubbing it enough”. From what I understand, all she really wanted at night was for someone to hold her hand whilst she fell asleep. I wish I had been there to do it that one last time.

Okay, now that I have feels all over my feet…I’m gonna add some more.

The last week has also been spent clearing out my aunt’s apartment. I mean, it was a lot of stuff, but not a lot of heavy furniture, thank goodness. We cleared out books, clothes, all sorts of stuff. We finally finished yesterday.

On our way to her apartment, I was riding in the car with my mother, my boyfriend, Peace, and my cousin, Robert. We got to the section of Avon Avenue and Springfield Avenue at the Newark/Irvington border, and Peace spotted a little girl crying and told us, “Whoa—there’s a little girl on the corner by herself crying, and nobody’s around her!” I look around and see the little girl and my heart died. She was hysterical. My mother stopped the car and Peace and Robert got out to get a better look.

 “Oh, my God—her mother’s on the ground!” I was already fumbling with my seat belt and on my way out of the car before I got it off good, praying that this woman hadn’t been shot to death on some street corner in front of her child. My mother was going to turn the car around but I didn’t want to wait.

So, we all ran over there, and it was lucky Peace and Robert even saw the mom because the weeds were so thick between the curb and the sidewalk that you couldn’t see her at first glance. We didn’t want to move the mom, as she was facedown on the pavement and I was horrified something really awful had happened to her. I looked at the little girl and thought of my own daughter, and of myself when I was small, and I said to her, “Will you come to me?” She nodded, and came to me so I could pick her up.

 I asked her what happened, and she said, “My mami fell.” I told her I was sorry to hear that. I asked her name; she told me, and I told her mine. She told me how old she was—just three. She wasn’t able to tell her address, so I just told her that everything was going to be okay, and that we’d get help for her mother.

Peace, meanwhile, had called 911, and Robert was trying to keep the mother, who had begun stirring, from getting up. I talked to her, too. I asked, “Ma’am? Are you okay?” She didn’t answer, but looked at me blankly. She couldn’t talk, it seemed. So I told her we were getting help and not to move, but she seemed intent on trying to sit up after awhile, and there was no stopping her. So Robert tried propping her up so she wouldn’t fall again.

A Newark bluecoat came down the avenue in his black-and-white, so my mother and I flagged him down and started telling him about what we’d seen, and he called it in to Irvington Police. He’d told us he saw her standing by a nearby fence earlier with her daughter. He said he was glad he drove back through, and that we saw the little girl.

The mother seemed to come around slowly, and asked where her daughter was. I said, “I’ve got her; don’t worry. She’s safe.” The mother said, “Thank you.” I told her: “No worries—I have a daughter too.”

Soon after that, an ambulance or three arrived—the first being the small type. Irvington Police had also arrived, and a lady officer came over, and we all explained what we’d seen and heard, and made sure the mother was safely in the ambulance. The officer asked the EMTs about the little girl, and they seemed at a loss. I said to the girl, “Do you want to go with the nice officer, so she can take you to your mami?” The poor girl looked me in the eye and shook her head.

“I want to stay with you,” she said.

OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGG I GAGGED

I almost fell apart right in front of her, bouncing her on my hip. I didn’t know what the hell to do then! It took some coaxing, but we got her to go with the officer, and I asked my mother to give her a stuffed toy from the back of her car. We did, and we said goodbye, and left my card with the officer, asking her to give it to the mother in case she wanted to call or anything.

And THEN I cried, hee.

I really hope the mom was okay. We were really scared for her and her daughter—Peace and I, for sure, cuz we’re too damned sensitive to stuff like this. But my cousin said he thought maybe the mom had a seizure; he remembered what it was like when our grandfather had them and how his mannerisms were when he’d come out of it. I’m still hoping that the mom will call, if but to tell us how she’s doing. That’s all I’m really worried about. We’re still worried as I write this. I can only pray she and her sweet little girl are both fine.

Albums That Got Me Through Some Shxt...

Let's face it-- we all have that go-to song or album that helps us through some really tough times when we need it. Music has always been the balm to soothe my wounds, or uplift me, or comfort me when there was nobody else to do that. My taste in music has always been all over the place, so I have several albums that have never failed to put me right in the vortex when shxt got real.

Like when you saw this...you know shxt was about to get real!

I compiled this list using the criteria of albums that I never skipped through if I could help it, and that I played during times in my life (mostly Past-Life) that I clung to as if they were life preservers...because that's pretty much what they were.
Sharing time:

 
"Blink-182" from...well, duh.
This album marked a different level of sound for this band, and it's one of the few albums I own, period, that I don't skip through (although I have to be in the mood to listen to "Feelin' It", they played that damned song so much). IDKY, but it just spoke to me. The songs "Violence" and "Down" and its interlude really shook up some chakras for me. And I loved the 80s vibe of "Always". Barker's drumming on  "Stockholm Syndrome" is fxcking epic.
And Robert Smith...that is all. I don't even have to say anything else.





"In Utero" by Nirvana
OMG...just, OMG. I wore this thing OUT when I got my hands on a copy. Favourite songs in particular are "Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle" (for some reason I love the part where the bridge comes and it's this tambourine in the background), "Serve The Servants", "Very Ape" and "Dumb".
Of course I love "Heart Shaped Box". That goes without saying.



"Unplugged in New York"--Nirvana
When I learned that basically Kurt was high off his damned rocker when this was recorded, I actually couldn't help but be impressed, TBH. This thing is damned-near perfect. My fave off this is "The Man Who Sold The World", easily.



"I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got"--Sinead O'Connor
This is another one that I wore completely out. This woman's voice would get inside me and just somehow make everything okay. Favourites from this were "Feel So Different", "The Emperor's New Clothes", "Three Babies", "I Am Stretched On Your Grave" (that familiar hip-hop beat!), "You Cause As Much Sorrow", and "The Last Day Of Our Acquaintance".



"Use Your Illusion II"--Guns N' Roses
I played this shxt waaaayyy too much. I still get gooseflesh when I hear "Don't Cry (Alt. Version)" and "Civil War". And "Locomotive (Complicity)"...horee shxt. Just put that particular one on as loud as you can and let that beat the crap out of you for awhile, then let it wipe all of that away when the song switches up and gets all trippy on you. The ending of that track is hypnotic. In fact, 'scuse me a second whilst I put that on to finish this blog...

One sec...I'll be right witcha.

Okay, where was I...



"August And Everything After"--Counting Crows
I don't know what it was about Adam Duritz's songwriting (or his vocals on this effort, come to that) that helped me though a VERY difficult time in my life, but whatever it was...it did. Faves from this: "Round Here", "Omaha", "Rain King", "Anna Begins". Le sigh.



"Time's Up"--Living Colour
HOW THE HELL DID PEOPLE SLEEP ON THIS ALBUM?! I didn't. You couldn't tell me shxt about the title track. It was so visceral, and spoke to me so hard I actually was doing the African dance choreography I was learning at the time to it, LOL. People act like "Cult Of Personality" is the only Living Colour song, EVER--in fact, when they came here last year to Newark, they very wisely saved that song for last! Can't even be mad at them.
Faves for me off this were the title track, "Pride", "Someone Like You", and the first single, "Type"...which is so excellent.

There it is...the albums that helped me through some shxt. I hope you enjoyed these as much as I did...and still do.

#LoveWins...Or Does it?

Okay-- admittedly, the title of this blog prolly smells of clickbait. But it's no less a valid question. Is this statement really true? Did love win?

In a HUGE way, yes--yes, it did. And yet, while same-sex couples all over the nation celebrate this landmark victory for the LGBTQIA community, there are some members who are definitely being overlooked...and since I happen to be one of them, I felt I had to speak up on it.

I identify as a bisexual woman. Yeh, I said it. I came out to my parents a few years ago (bye-bye to the hopes of the haters who planned to out me to them--too late, bxtches! They KNOW), and my true friends and family have always known. My partner-in-life knows and has always known. He doesn't care. He isn't intimidated. And his culeness with it isn't because he thinks he's gonna be up to his twins in wall-to-wall poontang, if that's what you're thinking. He accepts it because it's a part of who I am. He and I have enjoyed a surprisingly monogamous relationship for 7 1/2 years (yes, really). We have a daughter together (and two older cubs from previous relationships). We might get married. Anything can happen.

Despite this, I still identify as bisexual. It's why I chose to perform a few years ago at my local pride celebration. I think, though, that the moment it was known that I was pregnant at the time, and madly in love with a man, the general attitude from the LGBTQIA community here towards me changed (and they even seemed to go out of their way to clarify at the next celebration that they were "looking for LGBT performers", as if I wasn't one). It hurt, and I said as much. But, y'know, nobody takes that sort of thing seriously, because bisexuality isn't a thing (sarcasm font on). ::pfft::

I have often asked, "Why even have the B in LGBTQIA if it's just going to be ignored, overlooked, shunned, mocked, and ridiculed by the rest of the community?" I never knew that there was so much bloody biphobia and bi erasure in the world, let alone in my own fxcking sect. There are people who still think that it is a phase, that I came out to be cute and trendy --even my own mother met it with a little scrutiny, but when she realised I was sincere, she relented.

According to the world, bisexual people are confused, greedy, promiscuous, in denial, psychotic--you name it. I'm here to tell you: WE. ARE. NOT. We know exactly what we want and who we are. And we know we can live life and love as we want to. Just because you might like savory and sweet things doesn't mean you have to enjoy both literally at the same damned time. It's the same for most of us. At least I know for sure it is for me. I'm bisexual, but I am not polyamorous. I learned my lesson with that the hard way; it is not for meows truly.

In the wake of SCOTUS' decision, a wave of rainbow euphoria spread across social media, and a wave of sheer hate did as well. I expected the hate (though I admit I was disappointed in where some of it was coming from, and what it was hiding behind). I didn't really expect that so many others, including but not limited to bisexuals, would feel as if they've been overlooked by the media, because it suddenly became all about "The Gay Agenda". They could have used phrases like "same-sex couples" and "marriage equality" as opposed to "gay marriage", a phrase which left the rest of the LGBTQIA community out of the celebration. Bi/Pan/Transsexuals are happy about this, too, y'know!

So, that is part of my reason for this headline. Maybe a better headline would have been "#LoveWins...But Did It Win For Everyone?"

I don't know. I'm happy, but we still have a long way to go.

On Being An Alternative Hip-Hop Artist...and its Pitfalls

WARNING: THIS IS ANOTHER POPCORN ENTRY. So get comfy and grab some.

I might just join you as I write this.

I met a person of station awhile back who tried to clown me a bit because I said I was an alt. hip-hop artist. Challenged me, in a sort of condescending tone, to explain.

I did, and he basically "corrected" me and told me I am what is called "underground". I told him that there are many underground hip-hop artists that would disagree vehemently with that assessment. I've even been told as much by a respected so-called underground hip-hop "tastemaker", that my stuff is not underground.

Yes, I may actually BE under the radar, if we used the term "underground" in that sense, but I am still alternative, in the sense that what I'm doing is not what you would expect from hip-hop when you first hear that that is my genre of choice. There are artists under the radar with me that are doing exactly what one would expect of hip-hop, creatively. That ain't me.

I've also been called a pop artist, which, frankly, I am sick to death of.

I know pop really is supposed to mean "popular"--which isn't a bad thing in and of itself, being popular-- but in this day and age, for someone who strives to be authentic to who they are, it also means "death sentence", "disposable" and "dismissable", and I don't wish to own being any of those things, no matter what bent my sound might take in its journey.

People have a tendency to just kind of shove things in a box when they don't understand it, and more often than not, the box they shove you in is wrong. Because you can dance to the majority of GATA City, you would think that I'd be shoved in the dance category, but since people think of EDM/EBM, dubstep and the like when you say, "dance", I am demoted to pop. I also get told a lot that I don't belong here, I belong "Overseas" where I would "do much better", as if Overseas is one big land that will solve all my problems like it's the Emerald City.
And I know there's the typical/not-so-typical-but-accepted-cuz-they're-conscious hip-hop brethren, sistren, and cousins of mine who would look down their nose at me, side-eye me, or tell me, "That's cute, sis" and give me a virtual pat on the head, but go on and on about how ill certain mainstream female rappers are when I know I could run circles around some of them lyrically.

I won't pretend to make myself bigger than what I am; I won't even sit here and say I'm at-par with some of the other unrecognised ladies under the radar with me. There are so many down here that I've heard, been introduced to, or whatever...some, I've even been called upon to emulate, but my days of emulating anyone have been far behind me for years. I will, however, tell you that I know I deserve a fair shot at being taken seriously and listened to.

Talking of "listened to"... that's also another pitfall that comes not so much with being alternative, but just being a hip-hop artist-- NOT being listened to.

For example: there is an event that Newark is trying to do called Better Block Newark, and they were looking for people to get involved. Someone on its organisation team had somehow gotten hold of my email address and was sending me so much mail about it. So, naturally, I submitted myself... and got no response for a month, save for more email about volunteering.

When I did get a response, this is what met me (and two other people on his staff the sender sent to via CC):

Thank you very much for your interest in supporting our efforts in hosting Better Block Bergen. Unfortunately, the intention of the event is to provide family friendly entertainment for this celebration. Otherwise, we would surely be provide the platform to present your work. I'm sure it will be a great occasion and welcome you to contact my colleague Perris for an opportunity to setup a vendor table. 

Again, please accept our regrets. We hope that you still choose to support Better Block Newark as we intend to expand the initiative and need all the support from entrepreneurs/residents like yourself.


Mind you, I was asking about performing, but they're talking about selling at a table.

I replied, pointing out that my stuff is mainly profanity-free, and is indeed family-friendly--that in fact, I had been complimented by parents on that very thing (and sometimes, even shunned for it by others, but I digress). I mean, I wouldn't have been booked at family-oriented block parties if it wasn't, would I? But, I get this back:

I appreciate your cooperation and I must insist if you have materials or goods you would like to share and/or sell during the event we can surely provide space and a table to do so.

I did notice the lack of profanity and such in your performance and I commend that. Please continue to support the event and we can work to better curate the next event's programming to potentially include your stage set.

Huh. Okay, so, basically, "Get a vendor table and be happy. If you play ball, perhaps we'll let you do your li'l thing. but not now."
When I brought it to the attention of friends and GNOtaku, they thought that the "family-friendly" bit was a joke, with at least one friend surmising this:

Oddly enough, Peace had said that very same thing right before she posted that!
I'm pretty sure that they didn't bother to listen, just saw the words "hip-hop" and ran the other way. And for them to sit and say they "noticed the lack of profanity and such" when I could tell they didn't listen was insulting. If they had listened, pointing out that they were looking for "family friendly" entertainment wouldn't have been an issue.

I bet, though, that they'll have a local dance team that either a) has little girls doing inappropriate choreography but excused as cute (and wearing tutus...which didn't really start much here until after Fashion Is Art) or b) is using music that wasn't pre-approved and ends up full of curses and suggestive themes.

Why?

Because that's what's acceptable around here in the Brix. And it's acceptable because it's what they know.

Someone always tells me to look for ops in my own area; music blogs always suggest becoming a thing in your hometown first. Well, this is what happens when I attempt to do that...unless I meet someone like the true owner of Majesty Loft or someone else willing to take a chance on the weird girl in the cat ears. I'm mostly ignored (not even an email saying "no") by anything you'd think I'd be welcome to perform at in Newark--including Newark Gay Pride, if you can believe that. Newark is nothing if not afraid of new or different, and I think it is time that I truly accepted that and looked for gigs elsewhere, or make my own. Then show up at theirs anyway in full Nyan Regalia, like: "AND WHAT...?"

Which leads me to...addressing this past week's incident involving the "different".

For years, I have been trying to get involved in Afropunk somehow, due to the many suggestions of others (sent press releases, joined featured bands group), only to be mostly ignored, and I think a lot of well-placed badmouthing by certain individuals killed that to begin with. But, being somewhat undaunted and willing to believe that perhaps I might be mistaken, I entered the Battle of the Bands voting competition after much encouragement.
Days later, I received this:

We see some suspicious behavior for your entry, as it receives runs of repeat votes from the same or a series of closely related IP addresses.

166 votes come from duplicate IP addresses.

As this is evidence of cheating, we regret to inform you that your entry will be disqualified immediately.

Okay. Here is the math on the voting process:
--It is a single click voting platform.
--You must vote through Facebook.
--It will not let you vote twice from a single IP address.

And yet...I cheated, and was disqualified. Yup.

Of course, this brought cries of outrage from my friends/GNOtaku. Some thought "sabotage", some thought that they could have just discounted the duplicates, since there seemed to be trouble voting from phones and devices--a lot of people complained that they weren't sure their vote had even gone through. "With this knowledge," one said, "surely a malicious person could systematically get everyone disqualified, except the one they want to win!" And most agreed with that assessment. But I just chalked it up to Mercury Retrograde and the former badmouthing taking its toll.

Ironically, I didn't even enter to win, just get involved in something of theirs IN SPITE of them...and get noticed by their audience. I wasn't even as upset as I should have been about being accused of cheating.

What I was upset about--which I figured out after some reflection...was that here was yet another place where several people have told me I "belonged"...and it was very clear that they still don't think so...for whatever reason.

I can't begin to tell you how many people have said "Oh, you need to join Afropunk, do their shows, get featured!" Anyone from a music business mentor of mine to the graphic designer of my CD art: "Afropunk is for you!" 

No...no, apparently, it's not.
And that has been sorrowfully driven home by this final nail in the coffin.

So, let's count the places I've been told I should belong and apparently don't: my city, the culture as a whole ("you're a pop artist"), America ("go Overseas!"), Afropunk, and let's not forget Hip-Hop Sisters Artistry, who apparently thought there is only one kind of female hip-hop. (Yup--ignored by them, too.)

This shxt makes you want to run away from home sometimes, LOL. Join the circus. I did actually joke in a Facebook status about buying a town like Kim Basinger did and establishing it for those of us who fit nowhere else.

But...I was reminded (thank you for finally being useful, Mercury Retrograde, you cankerous whore) of something I once told a young strangeling-in-the-making when he came in from outside play, disgusted that the other kids didn't want to play with him at all after they decided they wanted to play tag after he said he'd wanted to still play ball, and decided to confess to me.

"Do you still want to play ball?" I asked him.
"Yes."
"Then be proud that your vision of playing ball-- doing something you want to is strong enough to survive what everyone else thinks you should do. They might not want to play with you now, but they might later; someone might. Always feel proud that you chose what you really wanted."

So...I will reflect on that years-old piece of advice I gave my eldest cub, and take it myself and let it nurture me. They might not want to play with me now...but...someone eventually might.