coney island

The beach. Hot dogs. Salsa on the boardwalk. Funnel cake. The Cyclone. A dazzlingly diverse and loony crowd of folks that could only be found in Brooklyn... This is the magic of Coney Island! 

Beyond the rides and food and trash and lights of the amusement park, Coney Island is remarkable because of its story as a New York City neighborhood and landmark. Over the years, Coney Island has faced the threat of gentrification, a steamrolling force that is transforming New York City neighborhoods with soul and history into communities that are wealthy, white, and inaccessible. It is a struggle across the city for neighborhoods to keep their identities (and longtime residents) in the face of such rapid change.

I am not a resident of Coney Island. As a child, I visited the aquarium on school trips. I have taken family members there to marvel at the sharks and fish, the illuminated underwater tanks. As a young woman, I've had many unforgettable nights at Coney Island. For me, summer in New York has become synonymous with Fireworks Fridays at Coney Island, where the fireworks displays are dangerously close to the crowd. The burnt scraps of paper fall down all around you on the beach. You can smell the ash and smoke. Like much at Coney Island, the experience is visceral, exhilarating, and probably not all that safe.

I wrote this vignette a few years ago after a particularly memorable evening at Coney Island. It's not fully formed, but it is an impression of the sights and smells of Coney Island. I think it captures how instrumental place is in our construction of memories. Here you go! Copyright and all that! 

The white surf broke over the rocks and the water did not look so far below. It seemed close, reaching and surging for us. The boardwalk came alive as vendors flicked on neon signs across the beach. Old men sold glow sticks, and young couples crushed cans of beer into sad discs to fling into the ocean. The kids were quieter now as they were tucked into carriages and cars, arms. There was the smell of popcorn burning and the sudden tragedy of someone’s last arepa falling in the sand. From this far and through the haze of tears, I could not discern the turning of the ferris wheel. All I could make out was the golden word printed in midair: WONDER.

Wonder Wheel at Coney Island and fireworks.

Photograph by Linus Gelber. View his photostream here. 

another round of poems

April is National Poetry Month. Poets and poetry-lovers alike are celebrating in a myriad of ways. There are conferences and festivals, slams and open mics, contests and challenges, like  NaPoWriMo.

Over here at Zafatista, I know the least I can do to celebrate is post another list of some of my favorite poems. I created the first list back in September, and it is certainly time for another. I dug up many of these pieces in my Norton Anthology of Poetry, which I read in a high school English class. The book is a treasure, although it does not represent nearly enough women poets or poets of color or women poets of color.

Each poem tells a unique story. Read and comment as you see fit. Preferably, before NPM is over. :) 

The Fish by Elizabeth Bishop 

Dream Variations by Langston Hughes

El Chicle by Ana Castillo

Ars Politica by Julia Alvarez

When I Have Fears by John Keats

I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud by William Wordsworth

This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams

The Wrong Kitchen by Nikki Giovanni

Mirror by Sylvia Plath

Crazy Bunch Barbecue by Willie Perdomo

The Promise by Sharon Olds

Poets from bottom to top: Ana Castillo, Nikki Giovanni, William Carlos Williams.

dancing in the streets

I don't have much to say about this video besides, "Huzzah! I love it!"

"Thinking 'Bout Somethin'" is the first single from Hanson's forthcoming LP, Shout It Out!, and it is irresistible. The Hanson brothers are no strangers to the process of writing excellent pop songs and this track is a cheery, infectious, big-band pop-soul gem. 

The video is delightful, too, with choreographed dance numbers in the streets of Hanson's hometown Tulsa, Oklahoma. Isaac, Taylor, and Zac aren't shy at all in this clip --- they join the masses at the very end of the song to shake their tailfeathers in solidarity. As if that wasn't enough to make you smile, there's a cameo by Weird Al, who appears gyrating and playing a mean tambourine. 

The concept for the video was inspired by the Ray Charles scene in the 1980 cult film The Blues Brothers. "Thinking 'Bout Somethin'" isn't the first time Hanson has played tribute to The Blues Brothers and Ray Charles. On their first world tour over a decade ago, Hanson covered several Blues Brother songs, and their song "Georgia" from the 2007 release The Walk is an obvious nod to Ray Charles's "Georgia On My Mind." 

Hanson has always had a knack for writing good pop music. For over a decade now, they have been the only band that can put me in a better mood, no matter what. Their music does not rely on the shallow, artificial peppiness of bubblegum pop. There's a much deeper, dynamic joyfulness to a Hanson song. Taylor Hanson has called Shout It Out! an "unapologetic, bright, melodic thing" --- that sounds like a pretty accurate description of much of the boys' oeuvre. 

Watch "Thinking 'Bout Somethin'" --- I dare you not to tap your foot or smile. You will. 

You can file this video under one more reason to love Hanson despite what naysayers and the ill-informed may have to say about these young men. If you need further proof, check out Hanson's work to fight HIV/AIDS and poverty over at Take The Walk.  

See? They're the best.

love's philosophy

Nothing calls for a love poem quite like spring! Here's one by Percy Bysshe Shelley. The photographs above were taken by yours truly last year in Fort Greene Park. 

LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY

by P.B. Shelley 

The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of Heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single,

All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle - 

Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high Heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea - 

What are all these kissings worth

If thou kiss not me?

As far as the Romantics go, Keats has always been my favorite, but Shelley ain't bad here. Not bad at all! 

Although I studied Shelley in college, I did not discover this poem until years later in the wrapper of a chocolate bar. Needless to say, I fell in love with this poem instantly. 

I am not so crazy about the line, "No sister-flower would be forgiven/If it disdained its brother" for the clearly antiquated anti-feminist message it conveys (Ain't nothing romantic about the absence of consent!). However, overall, the poem is beautiful and its images do speak to the harmony and union possible in love and physicality. 

Just look at the use of the word "clasp"! The waves clasp one another! The sunlight clasps the earth! Oh! Love it!

And then there is the final couplet! Who could ever forget these lines? "What are all these kissings worth/If thou kiss not me?"

The poem seems especially appropriate for springtime. The pear tree blossoms outside my window are kissing each other! The sunlight clasps the pavement! The bus kisses the curb and nearly runs us over! I will be walking around Brooklyn, identifying all the things that are kissing and clasping each other all season long. 

the pura principle

Junot Diaz has a new short story out in The New Yorker. It's called "The Pura Principle." The narrator is the familiar Yunior, a character whose voice Junot has used before in his fiction. Yunior is one of my favorite voices in fiction, as well as one of the characters whose beliefs and choices tend to break my heart/make me flinch most often (see: Yunior's relationship with the character Lola in The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao).

"The Pura Principle" is about Yunior's relationship with his older brother, Rafa, who is dying from leukemia, but still won't repent of his tigueraje, mistreatment of his mother, and general selfishness. Although Junot's depictions of a weakening Rafa are moving, Yunior is the one we love. His Dominican York vernacular rings true and his funny-as-hell observations cut right to the soul of Dominican family life. Read it for yourself and decide what you think of Yunior. One thing is for sure: you won't easily forget the world(s) he narrates or the people who move through his narrative --- from Pura, who is briefly married to Rafa, to the old church ladies Yunior christens "The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

There is also the character Tammy Franco, a female figure I wanted to know more about. The misogynist gazes of Junot's protagonists sometimes render women characters in flat terms (this is deliberate --- I'm not saying Junot is a misogynist, merely that he sometimes writes from the perspective of male characters who are). And although women are certainly important in Junot's stories, they are not usually at the center. Tammy is an ex-girlfriend of Rafa's who into and out of the story. Her friendship with Rafa is enigmatic and she acts as somewhat of a hero, briefly, in the piece. At every apparition, I found myself thinking, "She's the one. She's the one I want to know more about." We never quite get what Tammy is all about, and the story is just fine that way, but I do secretly wish that Tammy will show up again in another piece by Junot. 

I'm endlessly fascinated by gender politics in Junot's work and "The Pura Principle" is not different. In this story, Junot depicts a world with complicated, problematic gender dynamics, language, and characters that in all their messiness evoke real life. 

 If anyone wants to talk gender in "The Pura Principle," please send me an e-mail or hit me up on Twitter. 

That's all for now. Enjoy the story. Keep reading!

soul for a rainy day

erykah badu's new video, window seat, has caused quite a commotion online. it's a narrative music video: a "story" by erykah badu. its melody kept me company in the rain today.

the video premiered on badu's website this weekend, and i've got to say --- i'm glad the videos premiering online aren't all of the telephone variety. i don't know why lady gaga thought it would be clever or appropriate to set her video in a prison (jail never looked so good --- according to gaga, life behind bars is all high-fashion glitz). sure, she's trying to "make a statement", but what is the statement exactly? what is she trying to say?

badu is pretty clear about her message. the song is a glimpse into the deep interior life of a woman who is a great comfort and catalyst to herself. the lyrics about the desire to get away from a life that's not all bad. i understand the longing to go away for a bit and hope someone will call you back. at the end of the video, erykah philosophizes aloud about the dangers of groupthink and the power of self-love and transformation.

as for erykah, she is (to quote the good, brilliant, and compassionate friend who first showed me this video) real and beautiful.

all in all, i think this video is great --- it's got the feminism and the art i've been missing in mainstream music.

return of the novella

twilight fans everywhere went beserk when stephenie meyer announced today that she will be releasing a novella in early june. as anyone who has read this blog knows, i love the twilight saga. what you might not know is that i also love novellas. although it is difficult to imagine any form of fiction that i would not love, honestly, novellas are awesome.

for those who do not know, a novella is a fictional work of prose that runs between 20,000 and 40,000 words. it is considerably longer than a short story, but shorter than your standard novel.

a story can be good at any length, but publishing conventions limit artists, compelling writers to stick to creating either short stories or novels. i'm all for bringing back the novella. some (see: heart of darkness) can stay dead and gone, but others (the house on mango street, the pearl, animal farm, and bartleby, the scrivener to name a few) are testaments to the form's capacity for awesomeness.

meyer's book, the short second life of bree tanner, is supposed to number 192 pages, which, in my opinion, makes it more of a novel, but we novella fans will take what we can get where we can get it! the book is going to be sold for considerably less than hardcover novels are usually sold ($13.99) and a portion of the proceeds will be donated to the American Red Cross.

as the title suggests, the book is about the short life of bree, a girl who is turned into a vampire over the course of the novel eclipse. she is killed and transformed by bad-girl vampire victoria, who plays a much more prominent role in the novel. bree appears only once in eclipse. in this scene, she loses her life. the scene is haunting because it suggests that bree could have led a better, peaceful life if given the opportunity to change her ways. (redemption, as well as the free will to live righteously and against the logics of nature, are major themes in the twilight saga.) 

some might say that by publishing the short second life meyer is just milking the twilight franchise for all it's worth. it is very strategic to publish a new book just in time for the big-screen release of the film eclipse. however, i think meyer's choice to delve into the interior and experience of such a peripheral character just goes to show that even the most minor figures in a story have multi-dimensional life and depth in the imagination of an author. 

plus, she's bringing novellas back! 

aguapanela

Photo Credit: "La Aguapanela"article from Semana.com on 24.6.06

Make aguapanela for someone you love. Lower a brick of sugar into the pot, turn up the flame, and let the water boil until it is black. Stir and taste; be sure that it remains sweet. When it's not too rich, but still strong, add milk and let it warm. Cut cheese, soft and white, queso de hoja or mozzarella, if you're making it in this country.

Serve two cups and you drink first. Let the cheese sink to the bottom and soak until it is the color of amber, and melting. He should save you the last few drops and say Mmm before he hands you his cup.

Ask him what it's good for and he'll say, “Hunger, remembering – hasta para curar enfermedades.”

It is like the guarapo you drank as a child from Styrofoam cups on a polluted beach in Orlando where you tried to invoke enough Spanish to say thank you and Que Dios te bendiga to everyone you met: your grandfather, your cousins, and strangers, like the man who cut the stalk and stripped back the flesh, lowered it into a machine so you could eat.

Aguapanela is the color of your skin in the sun. He will taste the sucrose and fructose, the caña on your tongue, after.  This will remind you of home. Save what is left for tomorrow. 

In two years, you will meet his grandmother. On a rainy night in Bogotá, she will make aguapanela for you, and say: This is what love is like. Seeping the panela in water and letting it dissolve. She will instruct you to drink from the pot with your hands. It is sweet, and it burns. 

- NC, prose poem on a whim, March 10, 2010

edward, we're not in forks anymore

this weekend i saw the runaways, a film from first-time director floria sigismondi about the '70s all-girl rock band fronted by guitarist joan jett and vocalist cherie currie. 

kirsten stewart plays jett, an ambitious, tough teen who transgresses gender norms of the time by idolizing the sex pistols and chuck berry, wearing a secondhand men's leather jacket, making out with girls, and playing the electric guitar. young jett's love for rock 'n' roll is so earnest, infectious, and inextricable from her identity that she inevitably becomes the heroine of the film, or as a. scott of The New York Times says, the "one [we] root for... the spine and soul" of the story. 

dakota fanning plays currie, a timid, beautiful girl who descends into addiction and isolation before finally learning to assert herself and find meaning in life beyond the limelight.

the movie dramatizes the divergent fates of currie and jett: currie eventually quits the runaways, while jett goes on to become a rock legend. as tough as jett is, currie is vulnerable. the film suggests that for currie, the runaways was more about acceptance and belonging than the music. 

these disparate characterizations of jett and currie work narratively in the film, but are (of course) oversimplifications of the girls' real-life identities and desires. although jett served as executive producer for the film and currie's memoir, neon angel, provided much of the inspiration for the script, the runaways nonetheless includes some inaccuracies and omissions about the experiences of the band. 

something the film does seem to get right, however, is the incredible intimacy shared by the two young women who found themselves united by the trials of coming of age in a macho music scene.

at times, the friendship between jett and currie feels like the only safe space in the movie. the girls retreat into their friendship, and so do we as viewers. it ain't easy to watch 15-year-old fanning trip on drugs, grow arrogant and alienated from her family, suffer insults during rock 'n' roll boot camp, and emerge as a star known not for her vocal ability, but rather, for her ability to sell "women's libido" and not "women's lib" to audiences. 

cherie currie has called the film a "cautionary tale" that depicts the dangers of being young and female in a profit-driven, male-dominated music industry. the real-life runaways faced everything from sexual exploitation, emotional manipulation, verbal assault, and sketchy fiscal management at the hands of the adult men who managed their careers. most notable super-creep is kim fowley, producer and promoter for the runaways, who is played by michael shannon in the film. 

sigismondi does a good job of capturing the empowerment, freedom, and fun the girls experienced on the road, as well as the ways they were mistreated. the film avoids becoming just another rock biopic that chronicles the quick rise and fall of a band that fell prey to drugs, alcohol, and "the decade." the scenes of stewart and fanning, giggling, high, and romping around motels, airplane bathrooms, and backstage, are balanced with just as many scenes of the girls, particularly currie, realizing they have lost themselves. 

stewart and fanning are very convincing as jett and currie. they sing, they curse, they play, they shout and break things, and i believed them. both young actors seem to aim straight for the heart of things --- the runaways is about girlhood and experimentation and ambition and learning to assert oneself. 

the performance sequences in the film are strong, and it is clear that sigismondi's background is in music video direction (she has directed videos for fiona apple, the racontuers, christina aguilera, and the cure). the performance sequences are enthralling, dizzying, and disturbing for the viewer --- much as they must have been for the runaways who rocked out on stage, while high or drunk or being ogled mercilessly by male crowds.

sigismondi also portrays life off-the-road with authenticity, artfully studying the wasteland of 1970s californian suburbia. cherie's life before the runaways highlights the emptiness of this world --- she is teased at a high school talent show for her Bowie-worship, harassed by her sister's sleazy boyfriend, neglected by her actress mother and alcoholic father, and is terrified of winding up as an employee at the local Pup 'N' Fries. 

all in all, the film works. we understand why the runaways make the choices they do. we admire their rebelliousness and ambition, while remembering they were kids. 

my favorite scene in the film was the last, in which currie calls into a radio show where jett is the on-air guest. the two women talk, years after the breakup of the runaways, and the viewer gets the overwhelming sense that the friendship between cherie and joan is the most important, lasting thing to come out of the success of the runaways. after the girls hang up, they smile, and crimson and clover plays before the credits roll. this song, originally by tommy james and the shondells, later covered by joan jett and the blackhearts, feels like a homage to the camaraderie between the two women, which was real and beautiful, messy, necessary ---  the stuff rock 'n' roll legends (and biopics) are made of. 

the original lineup of the runaways, from left to right 

back: joan jett, jackie fox, lita ford, front: sandy west, cherie currie

persimmons by li-young lee

In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner  
for not knowing the difference  
between persimmon and precision.  
How to choose

persimmons. This is precision.
Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted.  
Sniff the bottoms. The sweet one
will be fragrant. How to eat:
put the knife away, lay down newspaper.  
Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat.  
Chew the skin, suck it,
and swallow. Now, eat
the meat of the fruit,
so sweet,
all of it, to the heart.

Donna undresses, her stomach is white.  
In the yard, dewy and shivering
with crickets, we lie naked,
face-up, face-down.
I teach her Chinese.
Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I’ve forgotten.  
Naked:   I’ve forgotten. Ni, wo:   you and me.
I part her legs,
remember to tell her
she is beautiful as the moon...


The verses above make up the first three stanzas of the poem Persimmons by Li-Young Lee. View the full text of the poem here. I rediscovered this piece while looking through the Norton Anthology of Poetry I read for a high school poetry class. 


The poem is beautiful. I love pieces that link food to memory, family, language, who we are, where we have been, and who we have been. Another good food/identity poem is Patricia Smith's When the Burning Begins, which is about hot water cornbread, her childhood, and her relationship to her father, loss, and the creative power of poetry. 

zoë

zoë saldaña is pretty stunning. and it’s pretty awesome that because of her work, there was a dominican woman actor present at the oscars this year. some would even say that she is a part of “movie-making history” because of her role in avatar, which wasn’t a bad film, colonial tropes and white male gaze aside (i am being ironic here, we never put those sorts of things aside).

still, the lady is fierce. peep the bright red lipstick.

yes! work!

from the heart of bed stuy

Spec Boogie - Bed Stuy from Boombaye' on Vimeo.


lately, i’ve been digging this video. it features some nice photographs of old school bed-stuy scenes and people. ali santana (director) and spec boogie do a good job of capturing the architecture and public art that are characteristic of the neighborhood. there are some allusions in the video to “the changing face” of Brooklyn  (it is part of an exhibit atMoCADA, the Museum of Contemporary African Diaspora Arts, about gentrification). i haven’t picked through the lyrics enough to see how the message is conveyed in the words of the song, but the sign language sequences in silhouette are pretty clear in their meaning…


L-O-V-E

acrylic and ink on wood

i loved this image the moment i saw it. i stumbled across it while reading live through this, an anthology from seven stories press about women, creativity, and self-destruction. the image is cristy c. road’s new year’s day, and it is acrylic and ink on wood.

i love that this woman is putting herself back together, holding her heart in her hands. i showed it to a friend and visual artist who said it looked like the woman was removing her own heart. we had very different interpretations, but i stick by mine.

what do you see?

what if all it took to put oneself back together was some needle and thread?

5 Thoughts In Response to John Mayer's Playboy Interview

Cause a picture of Staceyann Chin is always better than a picture of John Mayer

1. So, when John Mayer says his penis is a "white supremacist", does he realize he isn't  just saying that he doesn't find black women attractive? Does he realize that the idea of a "white supremacist penis" evokes rape for a lot of women? Not to mention, slavery? White supremacy is not a simple matter of preference. If your penis is a white supremacist, you've got a big problem. Does your penis wear little pointed white hats too? If your penis is a white supremacist, you need a new one. 

2. Why does John Mayer  keep saying he was trying to be "witty" and "edgy"? Doesn't he know that being a white man with lots of power who brags of his sexual exploits, makes light of racism, and demeans women doesn't make him edgy? Things that are edgy should play with our expectations or challenge the power structure. John Mayer isn't shaking up any expectations or power structure - he is conforming to the violent status quo so many of us are trying to break down (for our own survival). Furthermore, you can't dismiss your racist, sexist comments as "slips of the tongue" or failed attempts at being clever. Take them for what they are --- insight into the internalized racism and sexism you're carrying and need to work on if you want to be a better person. 

3. It's clear John Mayer doesn't love women. Having sex with women doesn't mean you love them. "Daughters" officially counts for nothing. A theoretical or professed love for women doesn't matter. Spare us the ballad and just treat women better/don't have a white supremacist penis. 

4. Sexual napalm - WHAT!? 

5. Never call yourself a blues singer. Again. 

Enough about John Mayer. All this talk calls for some Staceyann Chin. Check out "Common Truths or Why I Love My Vagina." The poem includes some mature language, but it is beautiful and one of my favorites. On the link (which is an HTML version of a publication that printed the poem), go down to page 8 to read. 

Three cheers for the women of color who wake up every day and mess up the power structure. That's edgy, to say the least.