Carla is your ATLien Intellectual.

michael jackson: my black american royalty

At 26, I could say that 2009 was the longest year of my life. According to a disgruntled older cousin of mine, I haven’t lived long enough to make a statement like that. And I will agree. Since graduating from school earlier this year I have done nothing but job hunt and reflect everyday. Then it happened out of the blue. Michael Jackson died right before my Internet browsing eyes. And for me, my musical life has completely stopped since then. The day of his death is imprinted in my brain for life. It was similar to 9.11 for New Yorkers. I remember where I was and what I was doing and how I decided to cope with that loss. I danced. And danced. And danced some more. It was my celebration of life and death for him. Finally, he will be left alone far away from the media. He would finally get his peace. I attended the Michael Jackson tribute parties and I watched his funeral on national television. I still haven’t shed a tear for a man that has been singing to people to leave him alone since his single “Leave Me Alone” off the Dangerous album. Why should I? I was never a part of the Jackson family. I’m only a fan that can be thankful for the albums and performances that he shared as gifts. By the time of the MTV Video Music Awards aired (I have no television by they way), I missed Janet Jackson’s tribute to him. I had enough of Michael still being exploited on television.

Fast forward. Thanksgiving 2009. I got free time at my family’s home and I’m jobless therefore I was able to watch television to see what the rest of the world is watching. MTV is playing a countdown of ten of his best music videos and afterwards a “behind the scenes” look at Janet Jackson’s VMA tribute performance. Of course I watched both only for one thought to hit me: the Jacksons are my version of black American royalty. It has to be true! For my (and many, many others) entire life Michael has been there for me and I’ve built this imaginary relationship with the Jacksons. Joe, Katherine, Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Randy, Marlon, Michael, Rebbie, Janet and La Toya are my version of England’s royal family. If the British royal family can be crowned by “de-vine” right then I can crown the Jacksons as my version of such. Joe and Katherine are king and queen while their children are their successors. They’ve built an empire based upon family and continue to let it be commanded by family (with the help of corporate America). They helped to create pop culture in America and for nearly 40 years all of their children have found musical success in some form or another. Especially Joe and Katherine’s son and daughter, Michael and Janet Jackson.

They’ve been in everything from teen magazines to high profile interviews to blog entries across the globe. My royal family has many people interested in them. No where else in the world has an entertainment family been so important like the Jacksons. When Mike died people across the globe danced the same way I did. No one else in the world has had that kind of influence like Mike. Cats in the hood may not know who Mother Teresa is but I’m sure they can show you their version of the Thriller dance. Michael was a transformer. He was always himself. Even all the way through his demonization by the media and some money hungry white folks. It makes me (and a gang of folks) angry every time I think about it. But then again, what royal family doesn’t have some form of dirt? It’s no secret the Jacksons were among the first to get plastic surgery. The racial demise of America probably brainwashed them into thinking their big, black noses were ugly instead of following history to see that all black folks got big noses. Joe Jackson looks like an insane freak of a tyrant while Katherine stands by his side as a classic example of nurturer to her children. I suppose she had to as he “beat” his children to fame. Janet has naughty piercings and La Toya is La Toya. Then there’s Michael and Neverland Ranch filled with everything a child would love to play with until they aren’t a child anymore. Bubbles was a strange pet but so was a man who lived without a woman (or man) by his side in a big ol’ house devoted to a childhood lost.

But still… they are the prime example of America’s version of royalty. One cannot deny it. Michael will always reign supreme even after death. His sales have obviously gone through the roof since then and his documentary “This Is It” is not going to be stolen by this intellectual here. I have to attend the theaters to see Michael as I wish I could have my entire life: LARGE, LOUD AND EXTRAVAGENT. At the end of 2009, the only thing more traumatizing than not being able to find a job for 10 months is the fact the next year I will not be able to see, hear or read about Michael being alive and with his children. No more will there be hype about a tour from him. No more politically charged pop music (as it should be) from him. All I can do now is collect photos and paraphernalia of one of the greatest entertainer’s the world has ever seen. From him I learned that no detail is too small, devotion is a lifetime commitment and that you are truly only as great as the last thing you’ve done.

It makes since that he would name one of his children Prince. They are coming from a lineage of greatness knowing that for a few minutes or a few hours their father gave millions of people a break from lives that are too difficult to put into words for you to read.

Peace.

i got a new interview at 84area.com

http://84area.com/blog/?p=9523

For those who don’t know tell us a little bit about yourself.
I am the people’s intellectual. I am an artist. Most days, I am a Southern young lady. Other days, I’m an Afropunk.

Which tattoo was your first? Why did you get it?
Two large irises on my upper right arm. I got it because I thought I would look cool and gangsta. I’m cool but at 26, I’m no gangster.

Which tattoo would you say is the closest to your heart? Why?
The tattoo “Los Angeles” on my collarbone. It’s closest to my heart, literally and I love my second city. Living in LA with my mom since I was nine years old was an inspiration for who I would become overtime.

What would you say is your motivation for getting your tattoos?
Boredom and pain. I get bored and go searching for ways to feel pain. Getting tattooed was the healthiest option I could think of at 19 years old. It’s a cycle.

If you could choose any tattoo artist to tattoo you, whom would you choose? And Why?
I don’t have any picks. I like local artists that believe in the art of tattooing. In every city or town that I live in I try to find the shop that best suites my needs and I usually stay there until I move to another city.

What type of tattoo or what trend of tattoo are you not interested in?
Anything tribal, butterflies on girls, obvious flash pieces, Christian tattoos (it goes against the religion if idiots would research). They all look stupid and unoriginal.

What advice would you give to someone getting his or her first tattoo?
Make sure this is what you really want. Young kids seem to forget that you can’t wash off a tattoo at 50 years old. They are permanent and will fade/wrinkle over time. At 65, I don’t want to have to explain to my grandkids why I have “The Baddest Bitch” stretched our across my lower back.

Random:
If you could be a rapper, what would be your Hip-Hop name be? And what would be the name of your first single?
I wouldn’t be a rapper. Rappers are boring to me.

What do you see yourself doing in the next 5 years?
Teaching college students across America. I will come for your children and expand their minds to greatness.

Any last words for the people that are reading this right now?
Yeah. I no longer wish to show the rest of my tattoos to the world. I have no need to put them on display at this time mainly because I’m becoming quite attached to them and to be honest, niggas don’t fucking know me. To be judged as a young lady by how many tattoos I have on my body for you to see is stupid. If you’re equating freakiness with my tattoos then I guess your talk game has got to be on point to see where I hide them and learn about how much of a sexual freak I am. In the words of Parliament Funkadelic: “Free your mind and your ass will follow.”

i like it when Miya blogs about me

whether good or bad

http://miyabailey.blogspot.com/2009/11/carla-aaron-lopezbright-future.html

I wrote about the photography work of Carla-Aaron Lopez before. I’m a biggggggg fan of her work…City of Ink hosted her show “My Black America” earlier this year…it broke ALL African American stereotypes… No jazz or hiphop scenes… No model shaped naked women & men Just a reflection of her lifestyle and the culture of MOST creative rebels of black America and other beautiful races. I was walking down to Tilt coffee shop checking my Twitter messages when Corey Davis twitted a photo from his Mach 5 LP dropping in Dec. When I first saw it I KNEW it was Carla’s work…the way she captures the spirit and personality of the subject reminds of the older works of Marc Baptiste…I feel Carla is focused and will have a bright future…one of the reasons I own 3 pieces of her work…I bought 2 pieces from the “My Black America” show…. One was a photo of Corey Davis and the other was of Tim Friday ( 2 young artists I feel will inspire the people once wisdom and age kick in) at the anniversary City of Ink show I bought a dark shadowy oral sex piece from her… Most people can’t even tell what the subject is doing in the photo because of the deep shadows so I hang it up in front of my tattoo chair in the shop..it’s a beautiful piece, one of my favs… Tuki lucked up and bought Carla’s self portrait before I did…. He lucky I didn’t see it first…keep your eyes & ears open for this amazing talent, this young lady has a genius mind, a humble soul, and an amazing eye of talent “Carla-Aaron Lopez”

Boy, Oh, Boy by Maureen Dowd

The normally nonchalant Barack Obama looked nonplussed, as Nancy Pelosi glowered behind.

Surrounded by middle-aged white guys — a sepia snapshot of the days when such pols ran Washington like their own men’s club — Joe Wilson yelled “You lie!” at a president who didn’t.

But, fair or not, what I heard was an unspoken word in the air: You lie, boy!

The outburst was unexpected from a milquetoast Republican backbencher from South Carolina who had attracted little media attention. Now it has made him an overnight right-wing hero, inspiring “You lie!” bumper stickers and T-shirts.

The congressman, we learned, belonged to the Sons of Confederate Veterans, led a 2000 campaign to keep the Confederate flag waving above South Carolina’s state Capitol and denounced as a “smear” the true claim of a black woman that she was the daughter of Strom Thurmond, the ’48 segregationist candidate for president. Wilson clearly did not like being lectured and even rebuked by the brainy black president presiding over the majestic chamber.

I’ve been loath to admit that the shrieking lunacy of the summer — the frantic efforts to paint our first black president as the Other, a foreigner, socialist, fascist, Marxist, racist, Commie, Nazi; a cad who would snuff old people; a snake who would indoctrinate kids — had much to do with race.

I tended to agree with some Obama advisers that Democratic presidents typically have provoked a frothing response from paranoids — from Father Coughlin against F.D.R. to Joe McCarthy against Truman to the John Birchers against J.F.K. and the vast right-wing conspiracy against Bill Clinton.

But Wilson’s shocking disrespect for the office of the president — no Democrat ever shouted “liar” at W. when he was hawking a fake case for war in Iraq — convinced me: Some people just can’t believe a black man is president and will never accept it.

“A lot of these outbursts have to do with delegitimizing him as a president,” said Congressman Jim Clyburn, a senior member of the South Carolina delegation. Clyburn, the man who called out Bill Clinton on his racially tinged attacks on Obama in the primary, pushed Pelosi to pursue a formal resolution chastising Wilson.

“In South Carolina politics, I learned that the olive branch works very seldom,” he said. “You have to come at these things from a position of strength. My father used to say, ‘Son, always remember that silence gives consent.’ ”

Barry Obama of the post-’60s Hawaiian ’hood did not live through the major racial struggles in American history. Maybe he had a problem relating to his white basketball coach or catching a cab in New York, but he never got beaten up for being black.

Now he’s at the center of a period of racial turbulence sparked by his ascension. Even if he and the coterie of white male advisers around him don’t choose to openly acknowledge it, this president is the ultimate civil rights figure — a black man whose legitimacy is constantly challenged by a loco fringe.

For two centuries, the South has feared a takeover by blacks or the feds. In Obama, they have both.

The state that fired the first shot of the Civil War has now given us this: Senator Jim DeMint exhorted conservatives to “break” the president by upending his health care plan. Rusty DePass, a G.O.P. activist, said that a gorilla that escaped from a zoo was “just one of Michelle’s ancestors.” Lovelorn Mark Sanford tried to refuse the president’s stimulus money. And now Joe Wilson.

“A good many people in South Carolina really reject the notion that we’re part of the union,” said Don Fowler, the former Democratic Party chief who teaches politics at the University of South Carolina. He observed that when slavery was destroyed by outside forces and segregation was undone by civil rights leaders and Congress, it bred xenophobia.

“We have a lot of people who really think that the world’s against us,” Fowler said, “so when things don’t happen the way we like them to, we blame outsiders.” He said a state legislator not long ago tried to pass a bill to nullify any federal legislation with which South Carolinians didn’t agree. Shades of John C. Calhoun!

It may be President Obama’s very air of elegance and erudition that raises hackles in some. “My father used to say to me, ‘Boy, don’t get above your raising,’ ” Fowler said. “Some people are prejudiced anyway, and then they look at his education and mannerisms and get more angry at him.”

Clyburn had a warning for Obama advisers who want to forgive Wilson, ignore the ignorant outbursts and move on: “They’re going to have to develop ways in this White House to deal with things and not let them fester out there. Otherwise, they’ll see numbers moving in the wrong direction.”

repost from NYTIMES.COM

bryant terry and steel cut oatmeal

Brown Steel (Cut Oats) In The Hour Of Quiescence

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Soundtrack: “Black Steel in the Hour of Chaos” by Public Enemy from It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back and “Black Steel” by Tricky from Maxinquaye

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 cup plus 1 tablespoon water

1 cup steel cut oats

3 cups rice milk or homemade almond milk

Fine sea salt

1/2 teaspoon coconut oil

1/2 cup currants

1 cup pecan halves, toasted and half of them chopped

2 tablespoons pure maple syrup

In a small bowl, combine the cinnamon with 1 tablespoon of water and mix until well combined. In a medium saucepan, combine the cinnamon-water slurry, the remaining water, the oats, the almond milk, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Swish around, cover, and refrigerate at least 6 hours, or overnight.

Over medium heat bring the oats to a boil. Add the coconut oil and cook, stirring constantly, until they start to thicken, about 2 to 3 minutes. Immediately reduce the heat to low, and simmer, uncovered, for 20 minutes, stirring often to prevent from sticking to the bottom of the pan.

Add the currants and simmer for an additional 5 minutes. Remove from heat, stir in the pecans and maple syrup, let stand for 5 minutes, and serve.