7/31/2018 1 Comment Drop it Like It's HOT"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.
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Blakk Rose"Who, me? Dare to dance?" she stammered in a startled whisper.. Archives
November 2018
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