Wednesday, March 11, 2009

[Tour] More Interim, Virginia

Today was all about driving. And writing.

We woke up early as ever. Earlier, it seemed, because when I woke up, Bernard and Frank were standing in the room ready to go to breakfast. I had worn ear plugs the night before (I swear though, Bernard, it's really no big deal, but they were free ear plugs!) and it was kind of jarring. No one wants to see Frank that early in the morning. hahaha.

Anyway, I threw on my clothes and walked down to the hotel dining room, where I realized I didn't have my wallet. Bianca wasn't there either, so it was my mission to go get her and my wallet. Turns out, Bianca had overslept too, so I was not alone. Anyway, after it was all said and done, we had eaten a fair breakfast served by a friendly and very helpful waitress and her mad-devil woman boss who would not. leave us. the fuck alone.

Frank must be part Russian because he Tetrised (as Bernard put it) all of our luggage and some camera equipment from Ricardo into our trunk. By the end, the Pluckmobile was a leather glove over the smooth hand of Frank's packing job. Yeah.

We were on the road forever. Frank doesn't turn on the radio because he's afraid of the airwaves transmitting alien signals (I think each blog includes more and more trash talk...). Actually, the radio remains off for us to speak and think easily. Also, it helps when we are actually able to catch one of our conversations. A lot of the car conversation has to do with utilizing technology, something Frank points out a lot of black America doesn't seem to be quite as connected as they could be about. Not in this car. Bianca can whip up a direction in I-Phone minus 3 seconds, Frank can work a GPS like he was trained at Nasa, and if I mentioned how Bernard truly moves behind a camera, he'd have even more groupies than he already does. Plus I'm a member of just about every community online there is. Even the Myspace for tattoo enthusiasts. Seriously.

We had a couple of bathroom breaks, bought some snacks, but most importantly, Bianca had the very strange (I thought at first) request to stop at an army surplus store if we saw one. I thought, "okay, well, what are the chances we find one of those?" 10 minutes later we were in one, looking at a native American crafted choker made from parachute straps, black buffalo bone, and bullets. Which is now sitting beside me; I bought it. Poem to come, I'm sure. Frank also found some buffalo badges and learned about how buffalo bones are burned to get the deepest of blacks. Tell me THAT isn't some heavy shit.

Back on the road, then the hotel, and finally Red Clays, a very modern restaurant with very VERY good food. Try the fried green beans. We're going back tomorrow, and that says something. The service was great too, and we met an Appalachian artist, our waitress.

We came back and considered work shopping, but decided that we need a night to catch up on all this work. Blogs, writing poems, learning to use the cameras (and now I know), updating websites. From the looks of the emails I'm getting, we're writing some inspired stuff.

Appalachian inspired.

The writing prompt: "Write yourself as a super hero of poetry. Include a name and a super

Robotto Mulatto

I am the Robotto Mulatto
the day walker, the glimmer in the night
the shadow of the day
I am the ambiguous apparition
shifting colors like a conch shell
in and out of cultures,
I am the halfrican hulk
the onerous oreo who will not let you know
where these big lips come from

I am the Robotto Mulatto,
I am more than meets the eye
My skin seperates along perfect tan seams
lifts with a hydraulic hiss
flips in on itself
and transforms into something else
controlled like a remote
with the styling of my hair
I shift color circuits
whether mustached mexican, bearded Egyptian,
or a mysterious collage of whatever it is
your half-cousin is

my words are double edged knives,
i have a battery in my back energizer bunny style
labled offense, it has twin meanings.
I can say things that you can't say
because I have one foot in your door
and go go gadget another foot in someone else's
and when all else fails I have a race card
one up each sleeve.

My weakness is the tug of war between
being fully Clark Kent and Superman
don't understand the master/slave jumpers
on my hard drive
can't hug my white motherboard
with this holy red-blue-green trinity
pinwheel spinning like a Mac in my head
my weakness is that people don't learn Linux
with easier to grasp systems on the market
that when people might actually vote,
electrons are so negative
my weakness is that silicon valley
isn't big enough for the idea of me,
and that around here things move so fast
that before the world is ready for me
i'll have become obsolete

1 comment:

  1. OK somehow I missed the Robotto Mulatto poem and I have to say it's fucking awesome. You have race cards up your sleeves? In the words of you: Damn.