#saturdaynight

sweetgrass basketmaking / not all was lost

The Gullah tradition of making baskets along the Lowcountry region of the US (from which my dad's dad's family originates) has been alive for over 400 years on this side of the Atlantic. Each basket is made by hand by women and men who have been taught the unique technique by preceding generations. The distinguishing style of weaving using palmetto leaves, long pine needles, bulrush, and sweetgrass is identical to the techniques used by Fulani, Mende, and Mandinka peoples of modern day Sierra Leone, Liberia, and Guinea (serving as a testament to the perseverance of African culture in the midst of slavery/attempted cultural genocide). Though these baskets are often prized for their beautiful artistry, they are still used as everyday household objects among many Gullah families, as they are in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea.

stream of it

gonna go somewhere

gonna go gonna go

and find my core

where i thrive and am molten hot with

passion and life

. me is existing sans

frontiers

no mirrors in my way

to examine theme

cuz me is seen

me will be cultivated

among a field of other me's

who thrive

and are also molten hot

with passion inside their cores, also -

below false deceiving mantles that

tell them no too -

growing up tall and reaching past the

sun - all of us me's will grow

to us's apex 0

and then spread molten seeds that

fall and melt on a new patch

of cold earth, warming the new

cores and breaking past the

mantles -

igniting a new and ready set of dried

passions that will grow to do the same.

Silbo Gomero language

My internet adventures always lead me to learn something new. After reading about a Puerto Rican reggaeton artist, I somehow eventually landed upon a site about the Silbo Gomero language. (don't ask how) The Silbo Gomero language is quite interesting in that it utilizes the phonetics of whistles as a system of communication. If you love languages like I do, you will enjoy this. Click it and watchhh

it's loud out here and i want some quiet.

Most of my close comrades know that I don't like going to my family's house in Pennsylvania for winter break (can't call PA home - still a TX baby), but the winter nights of Los Angeles actually do get cold, and sometimes all you want to eat is that last bit of leftover food from your family kitchen at 2 in the morning. [Long sentence/so what/EdgarAllanPoe did it all the time too]. I took this picture at a MLK day parade over in Leimert Park a few years ago, and it always makes me smile/getfuzzyinside/reminisce. Because I don't quite remember the faces, I like to think that a happy exchange was taking place. (Also, the body language can be sorta implied). Anyway, this photo kinda reminded me of what (the media wants us to think)we all long for during these commercialized holidays - a return to family. For those of us who are fortunate enough to run back home where love exists - cherish it. For those of us who can not, find that warm space of love within yourself - and run to it. Run to love.

Gem I Found.

If you can get past the beads and shells on his head and listen to this song, I think you'll feel the same tingle I felt when I heard this song earlier today.

Finals time. . .

. . . and I'm stressed.

Thanksgiving break was wonderful though. The namesake of this blog hosted me again, and as always, it was a wonderful experience filled with familial love. I like living in LA, but it's always nice to visit the Bay Area to brave the 'cold' and feel the liberalness float through the air.

I haven't forgotten about you beloved readers. I am here for you. Are you here for me?