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Crazy vivid dream.

I was working at Publix which has to be now. At 379. I was bagging. I was thinking no one was going to mention I wasn't shaved. I saw people congregating in the office. I bagged for one person who initially didn't need a cart but did. I put all his stuff in there and did the carryout rule. We left on the left side of the store and went a long way. On the way out I saw the old 62 manager who appeared to be the district manager. I saw another 62 employee who I went to HS with. I had to rush to follow him to his car to help him unload his groceries. We were talking about real estate in Florida. Mind you this is during Covid and none of us are wearing ppe. This is spawned by new RE which is taking up a section of the sky. We're in the back of the parking lot that's modified. It starts to rain and dude keeps me outside. A car approaches very decrepit and the guy has babies and kids outside. The employee says something and the guy yells at him. The guy precedes to park. There are infants being rained on. The guy goes outside and walks next to the employee and cuts his ear off and gives it to his kid and one of the kids says something along the lines of leave my dad alone. The employee perceeds to give him that work. He then turns to me and I start to haul. At this point I'm aware of the dream and am able to wake up and go back in and go back inside he follows me for a while then dissapears. This was also in the morning. 2 people had registers open. One was a person I worked with. This was during Covid because I wanted to ask a question I just never got around to. That's all I got.

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This is Everything 🙏🏾

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The Breakfast Tray (c.1910). Elizabeth Okie Paxton (American, 1877-1971). Oil on canvas.

Paxton may have been satirizing the staid Boston School as she was not bound by it. In the painting, the ordinary black pumps that took their owner out into the world have been tossed aside, as has the newspaper that long represented the male domain of business and politics. Perhaps Paxton was so used to tapping into their power that she knew they were readily available to her again and did not need any special care.

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Check out @JesNics1's Tweet:

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I read in the paper that my brothers are being thrown from rooftops blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs for violating sharia law. I heard the crowds stone these fallen men if they move after they hit the ground. I heard it’s in the name of God. I heard my pastor speak for God too, quoting scripture from his book. Words like abomination popped off my skin like hot grease as he went on to describe a lake of fire that God wanted me in. I heard on the news that the aftermath of a hate crime left piles of bodies on a dance floor this month. I heard the gunman feigned dead among all the people he killed. I heard the news say he was one of us. I was six years old when I heard my dad call our transgender waitress a faggot as he dragged me out a neighborhood diner saying we wouldn’t be served because she was dirty. That was the last afternoon I saw my father and the first time I heard that word, I think, although it wouldn’t shock me if it wasn’t. Many hate us and wish we didn’t exist. Many are annoyed by our wanting to be married like everyone else or use the correct restroom like everyone else. Many don’t see anything wrong with passing down the same old values that send thousands of kids into suicidal depression each year. So we say pride and we express love for who and what we are. Because who else will in earnest? I daydream on the idea that maybe all this barbarism and all these transgressions against ourselves is an equal and opposite reaction to something better happening in this world, some great swelling wave of openness and wakefulness out here. Reality by comparison looks grey, as in neither black nor white but also bleak. We are all God’s children, I heard. I left my siblings out of it and spoke with my maker directly and I think he sounds a lot like myself. If I being myself were more awesome at being detached from my own story in a way I being myself never could be. I wanna know what others hear, I’m scared to know but I wanna know what everyone hears when they talk to God. Do the insane hear the voice distorted? Do the indoctrinated hear another voice entirely?

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Get excited, 1st chapter’s coming out on June 28th!

http://www.danielaandrade.com

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Shore - Visual EP - Summer 2016

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Janelle Monae's "The ArchAndroid" Movie Analysis

This Title is no Accident. Anyone that has Surrendered their Ears to all Eighteen Tracks of Janelle Monae’s masterful debut album “The ArchAndroid” knows that the Audio Experience is so Optimal, it becomes a Visual Experience, a Thought-Provoking Experience, and most importantly an Emotion-Evoking Experience. It is clear that Janelle Monae cultivated this Album with a Message bigger than any Award, any Accolade, or any Monetary Reward. She’s giving us the Gift of Stimulating our Hearts and Minds.

Despite how many Associate her with the “Wierd,” Janelle masterfully uses her Quirks and Differences as “Superpowers,” and guides you through a Story of Self-Discovery. We’re reunited with our Heroine of the Chase Suite, the Android named Cindi Mayweather, as she continues her Frantic Escape from a Vicious Monolithic Government pursuing her and attempting to Disassemble her for Loving a Human. And though her Vessel is full of Left-Field Idiosyncrasies, she still manages to Connect with her Audience, locking into Emotions we all feel: Fear, Doubt, Desperation, that eventually blossoms into Vision, Purpose, and Self-Confidence. The Album itself is a Proclamation that we should Celebrate our Differences. Janelle proves with the ArchAndroid that no Matter how “Wierd” or against Social Doctrine we are, we all feel at the Core, and we’re capable of having Life-changing Experiences if you Embrace each other.

Keep reading

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Truth

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Melissa Hamilton in “Now Is All There Is – Bodies in Motion” by Rick Guest. Exhibition at The Hospital Club, January 2013.

The standout composition is of soloist Hamilton. A billowing white dress almost engulfs the en pointe ballerina. One arm is elongated forward and the other extended above her head, and there, peeping from the skirt, is her second ballet shoe joining her extended arm in a perfect straight line. It is exquisitely moving to see a body behave with such natural elegance while performing something which, to many, seems impossibly painful.

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Still shocked upset and saddened by the passing. While he was not in the generation of legends I had the privelage to watch he sure as hell looked to be a very gentle and warm guy. Very very young Live On in Memory, Warmth and Joy

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37

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SLIP.