[This update about pandemic ideas and my KITTY PANTS for sale was originally just to those on my mailing list, but Wolf Richter at WOLFSTREET dug the picture above (originally from my novel, “They Call Me Mad Dog: A Novel for Bitter, Lonely People”), so i’m re-posting the whole thing below / along with links at the end…]
My new family, my new brothers and teachers and dearly beloveds, Corky and Bašul, gave me a small camera to carry around while i bicycle around san francisco, since i don’t have a magic phone, and they wanted me to document what’s happening to the city because so much is a secret. / i was excited until i rode to the supermarket and realized that not only did i feel the camera was too small a device to capture all that’s outside beyond behind and in front of the frame, but i didn’t want to photograph the growing permanent homeless encampments here in the mission because i didn’t feel right capturing folks at their down-and-out worst.
but then i realized it wasn’t because i respected anyone’s privacy (if you know my work, i don’t), but because i don’t believe evidence of what’s going on now will improve any future, because i think the future is mostly full of well… more of the same people who’re running things down now, or those who’re are okay with things today.
what i can give the future is what i see, and i don’t know if i actually am a witch as i’ve been looked at sideways my entire life as if were one, when i defended myself saying i don’t know nada / and i don’t.
but witches magicians artists and hucksters are cut from the same / we just bow to different gods.
so i am ignoring my initial despair over unbreathable mid-afternoon orange skies and my rage at Mayor London Breed mysteriously looking better and better til we realized gov’t employees had gyms to themselves. / and i’m already well over Bougie Lives Matter protests and how everyone in america is suddenly propping up the most blood-thirsty mulatto house nigger since President Obama, as if Kamala Harris’ knees on black men’s necks is somehow a kinder gentler asphyxiation.
i don’t know about you all, but i’m hella tired of folks repeatedly coming in my face and telling me it’s raining.
so i’m focusing on The Future and just because rich people and the government are fucking the world face down and dry into oblivion, i haven’t forgotten two most important things:
–1. ) artists and colored folk make culture / we have become whores to the middlemen and cancerous bored uninteresting mindless “consumers,” as well as simple NUMBERS clicks likes followings irrelevant counts
–2. ) We are The Pretty Ones in this relationship even though we’ve totally fucking forgotten to put the shoe on the right foot. because:
——2a) EVERYTHING IS RUN ON EMOTIONS AND WE ARTISTS AND COLORED FOLKS HAVE TOTALLY CEDED OUR POWERS AS THE EMOTIONAL ONES, TO DEADLY BORING PEOPLE WITH NO FUCKING VISION, HEART, OR NEW IDEAS WORTH SQUAT
So i am laying out the basics of My Own Megalomaniacal Vision for The Future even though i’m broke from having been canceled 9 years ago by the ones i thought/assumed were My People (the “radicalish”/”progressivey” left has distilled down to diverse skin tones and pronouns, but not diversity of opinions), and being supported by James who just got fired a couple of weeks ago after missing out on all that $600/week and later $300/week.
i cackle heartily in the face of such horrendous odds because this is the first time in almost a decade that i feel so goddamn powerful and ..right.
i’m phasing offline just because my computer is dying (i’m on James’ and Corky gave me a set up we’ve yet to …set up), and i don’t care about a public website anymore.
this mailing list feels about as public as i wanna go for awhile because i just don’t believe in …the “mass” anymore.
that said, THE NEW ADVENTURES OF OPPOSITE GIRL are constantly focused by my inner question: HOW WOULD RUTH GORDON HANDLE THE END OF EMPIRE IF THERE WAS A “HAROLD & MAUDE” REMAKE FOR TODAY?
i don’t know what she would do–other than fuck young, suicidal guys and i’m all for that, especially now that we have more suicidal men about than ever–but i am going to continue to try and tear creative artists and entrepreneurs from the Internet of Death, where all good ideas go to die, and i am making magic in Real Life, On the Low again.
My commitments for populating this New World will happen between:
1) The Gym (my inspiration and art studio)
2) KPOO Radio’s DJs/institution’s longevity and fame by pitching an annual Ball/Family Reunion
3) Wolf Richter and Wolfstreet.com and his merry band of thinkers artists and entrepreneurs
and of course James, Corky & Bašul, my new family. so i’m solid with People In The Real World. we’ve got our own ashram and we don’t need anything more. so i’m set.
i aim to make my own funky adventure tailoring company inspired by Dapper Dan / Basquiat/ Warhol, just so i have a “thing,” an example to be used in play.
but the real project is how i’m going to try and see how many artists freaks entrepreneurs and thinkers i can get involved in producing events parties concerts shows whatever…
then i’m going to try and re-introduce Artists and Entrepreneurs to each other in The Real World, where most of us still actually LIVE.
i aim to court Petunia from Wolfstreet.com to fly in to help us talk to each other in old fashioned ways where we’re not binary and yelling at each other, but considering our ideas dreams and needs, trying to go around how we’re bluntly selfishly and carelessly incentivized to think, to set up businesses or coops and other creative ways of us artists (The Pretty Ones), along with those with money (the ones who don’t have to be Pretty or Interesting), so that we can stop the american cycle of boring ordinary people brutally, crudely, and thoughtlessly trying to take over anything interesting we manage to do with whatever little we have or get.
i want to create new tours for performers, authors, poets, teachers that’re reminiscent of the old Chitlin Circuit.
Bougie Lives Matter is all about leaving brothers in prison while they hump more symbolism and topple statues and change names of streets, and are more about bougie people getting what few JOBS are left for themselves. /
regardless of color–it’s class y’all– we field negroes are on our own and have to create our own jobs. but it’s not enough… as The Pretty Ones we’ve gotta go tits out now.
we make community we make things fun and interesting and worth fucking. / why are we on shitty internet platforms and pretending zoom is just as good as sweating and dancing and grinding against each other to drums in the real world?
i know it’s not time yet.
but money people have raging hard ons leaking against their bloated bellies now–the women very much included—pooling their money getting ready to buy up/hoard the last of the shit on the open market (as well as pallets of unlisted foreclosures in bulk before they hit the so-called “open market”), and become corporations, LLCs, REITs with the rights of people / as actual real-people-civilians are living on the streets, in sewer systems, in abandoned subway tunnels, parks, and in suburban ditches and woods.
so you can roll your eyes at me and think i’m crazy but (shrug)…
we’re The Pretty Ones.
and it’s long past time to get the shoe on the right foot.
and with all the work i’m about to do to try and help set up our own thang, i’m not fixing on getting “evicted” after building up someone else’s real estate investments because we helped make it interesting.
Bored and Boring people will always pay to be near us Interesting People. we’ve been giving it away too long.
this half bougie mulatto girl knows how shit goes and with the last 20 or so years of my life, this is my new plot, my scheme…
my cunning plan to use our humanity for us instead of against us for a fucking change.
i tell you all here because some of you will get that twinge of …”FUCK YEAH…” and that’s what i need to set alight in you so’s that we can coordinate tours across the country and not need to belong to computer generated …societies and divisiveness.
so there. i don’t know if i’m a witch, but i SEE this …and this is all is see.
i barely notice the smoke now, the pandemic is a mosquito sucking away contentedly on my mind, and the end of empire is a respite from this constant endlessly exhausting “american exceptionalism” bullshit jig. / and San Francisco’s vibrant small businesses may be face down, drowning in a gutter river of urine… their collective throats cut under the collective bed bug-ridden mattress of “sit this one out,” but all i can see now is a swaggering audacious future where James just nods in his silent cowboy way, and Corky is speechless, but Bašul and i are giggling because well… Bašul and i giggle. that’s what we do when we see each other.
and so there. / that’s my update that i was forced to write because being locked in from the smoke, i had no more excuses.
oh– one last update: i didn’t sell even TWO pairs of Kitty Pants for women, so i took down the Kitty Pant Page. [i’m putting it back up]
James said it’s because i didn’t promote them enough as i’m not even on social media. i said, “fuck social media. i put them up at a financial loss because i don’t wanna just make things for rich people.”
but men? easy as giving away free samples of head: i’ll practically fit a practice guy at the gym in newspaper mock ups and half a dozen men come up later and beg me to make them clothes that fit the small of their back or don’t fit them like big tubes or skirts. / they want colors other than navy, black, grey.
men don’t need courting coaxing pitching convincing because no one really cares about marketing clothes to them. / they’re not as worried about name brand or looking like other men, as women are taught to conform more… in general.
women? everything cheap and disposable is marketed to us and we tend to be about quantity not quality. women now brag about spending $5 on shoes. i can’t compete with that mind set.
men wear basic uniforms and want a few good things in fine cloth that fit well and last.
made in china/vietnam is more for the women then. / local custom more for men, then.
so i decided “fuck women and our long endless expensive courtship needs and convincings… it’s all about MEN now” and in more ways than just clothes.
re: fuck women, since you all are so goddamn touchy now: i say general generic regular boring women have lost their minds right now. Complicated Women like Petunia at Wolfstreet.com, and Marilynn at KPOO, are my sisters i’m chasing down with all the alpha audacity joy and love of my beloved Bašul. / meaning rejection i don’t hear. / metoo passive-aggressive fears and lack of responsibility for one’s own voice, power, morals, and boundaries killed that in men as it was already on the wane, anyhow, and turned that into a very, very bad thing, rendering most men (and people) the confused tentative pussies you see today.
i was sad for a day, then i realized i didn’t really want to be churning out complicated football leggings for anyone other than myself and a few local friends, and returned to my custom riding pants for men with a split fall front, and i had TWO huuuuge epiphanies about custom tailoring that were a decade in the coming, so i’m excited and feeling myself big time now.
and i don’t trust anyone under 60 anymore. / even though i just turned 53 i think (i’m already thinking i’m 54), this past august 10, i’m going to soon SAY i’m almost 60. not only for the compliments on how fucking young i (hope i) look for 60, but so people trust me, too. not to end my sentences or my goals in question marks like people today who just talk b.s. and make pretty templated websites.
i want new real life stuff. /
haven’t you all gotten sick of this internet yet? at the beginning of the lockdown in mid march (we didn’t beware the ides of march!), i said to James, “i think screen bingeing will be like making a kid caught smoking, smoke the entire pack of cigarettes and making them sick.”
but no dice.
anyhow, there it is. / The Continuing Adventures of Opposite Girl…
and if i fail, so what? it’s better than watching video clips of Candace Owens talk about a fucking twitter bitch slap with Cardi B. / (i love both of them for merely existing as big as they are, and don’t want them to fight alone or in public.)
but that twitter and swiping passive aggressive crap is your world / how you love. / i’m an artist and i’m gonna go about making mine. and offline.
some here i’m guessing already are a part of it. again, i don’t know who you are, so cut me slack. if i see who’s on here beyond the 6 who’ve written me back so i KNOW, then i’ll choke.
it’s not easy being like this. i still get embarrassed, too. that’s why i do it. because if i get embarrassed all at once, it’s akin to smoking a whole pack of embarrassment all at once and getting over giving a fuck what frightened judgemental binary small-minds think.
so that’s what i’m up to. / please dare to think of something on your end so we can …well, so life can be INTERESTING again.
what else you got going on wherever you are?
it ain’t more exciting than what’s going on over here, i promise you that.
i’ve got no money but i’m mad rich in the best friends and i’m loved beyond even what i can SEE. / i can FEEL it.
kisses power and a whole lotta fight–
L I N K S :