"May I call you?"
Yes Rasta Lion.
"Hello, Empress?"
Hello!
"You are my woman. We must talk every day."
Ohhh... but I cannot speak very well. I have been sick.
"No worries. I will teach you."
He was absolutely lovely, sharing little things about his day, his family, his work.
He brought the Jamaican music industry and Jamaican culture to life for me.
I learned to express myself as an artist: strong, sympathetic, and even silly at times... brutally honest.
 
He was incredibly spiritual. Chills would quake through my body when he spoke of JAH... Rastafari... with the resonance of our ancient Redwoods echoing in his voice. His departing "Bless" would reverberate through my ears and penetrate deep into my soul.
...and sexy. Good God he was sexy.
"You are turned on. Tell me how I make you feel, babe. I want to hear it."
 
"Your voice, Empress... it sounds so good."
Really?
"Yes, babe... keep talking."
 
"Will you manage me?"
I must watch Michael's movie and then I will know.
"How was the movie?"
Amazing. I can do this. I will work with you.
“How do I do this?” I asked.
​“Go talk to your friends[1] who have worked in music. Let them tell you.”

23 de diciembre de 2009
Loving every single stiff, sore movement... seriously. Mobility is great... and to be able to hear... lol... fabulous! HUGs. ;D
 
26 de diciembre de 2009
Gads, I have SO many muscle spasms... woo-hoo, I have muscles! Lol
Lord have mercy. Some memories stay so strong.[2]


[1] This was my second mistake. Just because someone has worked in music, does not mean they know the industry.

[2] I lived with these muscle spasms up until the first few months after the VA told me to sit down in the summer of 2012. There is some relief: my muscles are only painful when I use them. Presumptive diagnoses? Ehlers-Danlos. How have I learned to escape this physical torture? Invest in something I can control: Developing exceptionally strong mental and emotional states. i.e. school and therapy

Twenty-four hours after meeting him at the airport, my artist was sitting in our car outside of the venue, stroking his beard, staring intently into the street, concentrating intensely... and struggling to hide the fear in his face. I could see it... smell it... feel it. I did not live up to his expectations. He was in a bad place, being prepared to go into even worse conditions. It was my life. It was not first time I had encountered this reaction. More than a few people are surprised by my struggles. How can someone who is so highly accomplished be living is such difficult circumstances? More to the point, how could he avoid them?

Here's the thing. I am disabled. This makes it impossible for me to perform at consistently predictable levels. Sometimes, it's emotional. Frequently, it's physical. Ultimately, it makes me incredibly vulnerable to vultures in the world. If this is not you, then don't worry. You will not have my struggles.
Jamaica is here, babe.
How do I talk to them?
"The same way you talk to me[1]."
...and I did, never realizing the man had become my pimp.


[1] While I was learning to speak again, Baijie taught me to talk to the music industry by using terms of endearment. I thought it was expected communication, but, in retrospect, it led to a lot of confusion.

I was recruited by a Jamaican Reggae artist and his record label manager. He contacted me on MySpace in 2009 and introduced me to her over the phone. She taught me about the industry while he talked about the island and his perspective of the business. 

After he met me, he no longer wanted to work with me. Before he stopped talking to me, he introduced me to the Jamaican music industry in Facebook.

We had developed the idea of starting a company, so I proceeded online on my own. Because I was in his professional network, I started talking to them. I introduced myself, my situation, my goals and our dreams. A Dancehall artist came to me. It was about graphics. I asked for permission from my first artist:

“Hi, babe. There is an artist in Jamaica who wants to create our graphics,” I ventured.

“We don't do this in Jamaica, Kitty. Artists do not work with other artists' managers,” he hedged.

“How am I going to do this without help, babe? He wants to create graphics, and we need graphics.”

​“You really want to do this, don't you?” … “Yes.” … “Okay. Fine. Work with the man.”

My new artist and I worked together while my first artist stayed in the background asking me about my activities. After a few months collaborating online, we started talking about getting together in Jamaica. My first artist was furious.

"Don't go to Jamaica," he warned, "something terrible will happen. 

He was right. I went and things got really bad... until my friends, family and fans turned it into an extremely good thing.

Dem a tell her she an Empress
​Dem a tell her she a Queen
Come and dance here
We all love you
It's not safe, but you can do it
You're a Rasta Empress
You're a Reggae Queen
 
Standing and smiling
Stepping in trust
Learning the hard way
Words of love belie acts of lust
Stripped of money
Bared of pride
"NO!" she yelled
but no one cried
 
Dem a tell her she an Empress
Dem a tell her she a Queen
Words come easy
Only actions tell
The heart of the characters
Who guide through this hell

[Ark of the Covenant Riddim]

The Park City venue was empty, but it was early. A slick, icy and steep downhill sidewalk was the only way to get there from the parking lot. I was worried about the dog... the show... the roll I was supposed to fulfill...
 
Flashback to my getting lost backstage in Arcata after an extremely exciting, and very long, strenuous day at the beginning of the tour. My teenagers insisted on coming with us. Years later, my son told me that he would have never let me go meet a Jamaican at the airport by myself. How could he be so much more aware than me?
 
The young lady asked my artist, "Who is she?" while pointing at me.
"A manager."
 
Now, confusion began to meld into delusion. What was happening? How could I go from a disrespected professional and discarded “woman” to manager all in one word? Was this normal behavior on his part? Was it me? Was it simply the way of the industry? Years of shuddering under ghetto oppression had conditioned me to do one thing to survive the situation: be quiet and smile.
​
At that point, I became pliable

​"May I call you?"
Yes, Rasta Lion.
"Hello, Empress?"
Hello!
"You are my woman. We must talk every day."
Ohhh... but I cannot speak very well. I have been sick.
"No worries. I will teach you."
​
He was absolutely lovely, sharing little things about his day, his family, his work.
He brought the Jamaican music industry and Jamaican culture to life for me.
I learned to express myself as an artist: strong, sympathetic, and even silly at times... brutally honest.
 
He was incredibly spiritual. Chills would quake through my body when he spoke of JAH... Rastafari... with the resonance of our ancient Redwoods echoing in his voice. His departing "Bless" would reverberate through my ears and penetrate deep into my soul.
​
...and sexy. Good God he was sexy.
​
"You are turned on. Tell me how I make you feel, babe. I want to hear it."

"Your voice, Empress... it sounds good."
Really?
"Yes, babe... keep talking." ​

I have been leaning on Levine since forever! I've given away more copies of his book; I even dropped one at the office of the VA ABQ Psych who formed the first PTSD treatment program in the country with me. This is the philosophy I teach my children when coping with the initial impact of traumatic situations... go out and shake it off... then deal with the emotions. It's something we did intuitively in the military.

Ready for another horrific/triumphant chapter in the story of my life? I introduced the philosophy to Jamaica immediately after the Tivoli Gardens Massacre. It was such a hugely traumatic event that we all needed to do something to rock our worlds back into something with some sense of safe reality. While i was there, they taught me how to cope with an onslaught of almost daily violence in life (sad Jamaican reality). It's about keeping the faith, staying close to family/friends and searching for fun moments in every day. My host and his family preserved the moment with photos http://www.nannymaroon.xyz/news/follow-mi-famili