mini reviews on most things cultural
Hello cursor. Hello screen. Hello random reader. Hello subscriber whose spring purge I managed to evade. I’ve debated the wisdom of resurrecting my musings after these many months of dormancy. Perhaps I have unwittingly arrived in that good night. I’ve certainly been quiet long enough. But the timing feels premature; Read more
How long does it take to fall in love… with yourself? Do you love yourself? When did you know you loved yourself? In the movies love happens in a tight hour forty five. Day and night collapse and time is a magical construct. I’ve experienced the time bending power of Read more
Tabula rasa has been a favorite word since high school. I love a fresh start; the promise of fresh and new. I’m also a creature of habit. My morning routine is my favorite part of my day. I love my Ayurvedic ablutions, yogic stretches, cup of hot water to flush Read more
Sitting on the A train, heading downtown from Harlem. Living my dream. Heading to a niche New York eatery and an evening of art. From this dream I would edit the 12 hours spent in an emergency room in Queens. Hours full of distant moans and pleas for God, hallways Read more
What a time it’s been. Flying at the speed of light we’ve arrived at spring. Or so it feels. I took a pause, Rip Van Winkle style and awoke to signs winter is finally over. Unlike the notorious RVW, I emerged rather well preserved if I may say. The trick Read more
This is my last selfie of 2022. Haven’t gotten around to the first selfie of the year yet – how is it already a week?? I like to ease into the new year like a warm bath. It takes time to get intentional. The how outweighs the when. Start as you Read more
Nature is a tonic. I grew up with natural remedies and the kitchen cupboard apothecary, repurposed bottles containing various roots and spices steeped in overproof rum were a regular sight among the bathroom linens and back up stock of tp and toothpaste. But my experiences in nature were very few. Read more
Confession. I cannot braid cornrows. My mother couldn’t either. With great effort I can do a french braid- my mother could not teach what she didn’t know. My mother was raised with a Eurocentric esthetic. The colonial norms were imprinted like a tattoo, bias buried layers deep in the dermis Read more