#black exile

[whereuniverse]

i.k(now)

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Kenyan coffee  ... bought in Berlin (‘84) Brought across the Atlantic  Sipped Black by a brother with a Kiswahili name. Not/home

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Life.

I can Not lose we

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Black lives, matter.

“The Broken [B]lack body” Is what you write of Only insofar as The flesh is concerned. We know the bit Lips, loosened  Sunken ships Bone, blood.  ... Am I flesh  Alone?

[whereuniverse]

As I Write

… this essay on deceased European men’s thoughts surrounding the radical praxis of a Jew in a brown body believed to be God incarnate, in a space wrapped in marble with no aura of authenticity, originality, or sense of the world surrounding it…

I am anticipating tomorrow.

I look forward to the Blackout here on tumblr, which does not represent some new paradigm or awareness of black excellence, for, we know we are excellent and have known for quite some time, but it’s affirmation we can share with eachother regardless of who acknowledges us or not. I look forward to what y'all have to share. We are a beautiful people, through and through.

[whereuniverse]

The Lonely Scholar’s Living Room

"Did you hear of those cops in New York?"

"Yes, of course, Charlie Rangel is on the T.V now"

"The Mayor looks as if he’s going to lose it anytime soon now"

"The guns are the problem"

"Yeah, the people too"

… Conversations between the baptist preacher, teacher, a student, a pianist, all trying to make something of substance of current situations. 

I work for, and with, a well respected teacher at Morehouse College, who is hilariously out of touch with the twenty first century as he is a product of the 40’s. This lack of touch finds itself most prevalent as we begin to discuss the reason I was called to his home in the first place, setting up his iMac and making sure he can edit his manuscript on his Macbook Pro and iPad. His wife, a PhD in musicology who is as graceful as she is with a piano as she is in how she carries herself, also needed assistance with setting up her iMac in the adjacent room. 

Cohesion and collaboration are important, and so are keeping with the times. For these two, these are vague suspicions. For my generation and those who come after us it is a reality that we may never have to examine since we’ve been baptized in a tradition of technological proficiency. You would be surprised that your favorite scholars, artists, etc  may not be proficient in the means through which their genius is articulated.

Imagine James Baldwin trying to sort out a hanging indentation in Microsoft Word. 

What a crippling feeling this must be. To have something of substance to say, but lack in the means to say it.

In a way we, in this generation, suffer from this too. In abbreviating our thoughts to fit into 140 character mediums, and the many other ways we’ve made our communication more efficient and less drawn out, we have relinquished 

What this creates is a tense, yet potentially fruitful alliance between tomorrow, the present, and the past. Its important to surround yourself with people you can learn from, and its equally important - if not more - to know that you can be taught.  

We are needed today and now, so be still and listen.  Understand past progress and transgressions.  Those who came before us are human, also.  They may be older, We may be younger, But we are living in the same age.  We all have something to give. 

The two I am speaking of are Dr. Lawrence Edward Carter, Sr. of Morehouse College and Dr. Marva G. Carter of Georgia State University, both brilliant in their own rights. 

[whereuniverse]

Ebony Lamentations In Ivory Spaces

I grabbed my seat at the front desk of the library, bracing myself to engage, far too soon, with individuals who could care less about the implications of three "no probable cause" cases in a week's time. 

In walks the other Brother in a Black Body from the Law School whom I spoke with earlier in the week, our exchange goes as follows: 

Brother: Good sir, how are you. 

Myself: I'm, well, "making it," how are you?

Brother: Mad, man. Mad as hell. 

Myself: I feel it, I feel it, we must press on. 

Brother: And we shall. 

... we departed, to continue swimming in the sea of invisible lament.