On and On....

So I'd like to share a song.
Nothing more, nothing less.
A song that I listen to quite often.
I have been listening to it before the album came out.
It's great.
It's great for the summer.
I gets down and funky with it.
Folks know I love to dance.
So why not dance with the truth.

I will update soon.
No stress for catching up.
I am simply being.
But you better believe that there is much to catch up on.

Au revoir,

City of...FLASHING, FLASHING...Lights!

This moment was captured by Ms. Tinkue a couple of nights ago after we had class.
We were in Mairie - The 3rd Arrondissement - off of the Hotel De Ville train stop.
For those that may not know - Paris is known as "The City of Light(s)."
I put parenthesis around the "s" because sometimes it is plural and sometimes it's singular.

This is an actual shoe store.
We were just messing around because Paris Noir - the summer program - is NO joke!
It's very critical and pushes me to really think.
I can't/won't forget the 1st day when we were sitting in Cafe de Flore and having our 1st seminar and Dr. Mayes asked us what we think of when we think Paris/France.
And it many instances it has been associated with mainly romance, beauty, berets, art, croissants, etc.
But rarely is the notion of colonialism and even recent immigration and this complex history of people of African descent, and even Asian descent come up in discussion.
And it all tied in the quote by Toni Morrison when she says along the lines of "...because something is invisible doesn't mean it's necessarily NOT there." It's something to that nature.
Basically, it translates to because something is invisible doesn't mean it is non-existent.
So these are things that I think about each day.
Our days are full and heavy - in a good way.
From panel discussions of what Blackness, Africaness, Ameristrocacy, etc...is...I find myself confronting thoughts an emotions all centered around identity from myself to my counterparts that make up and embody this world.
It is a multiplicity of contradictions.
The African Diaspora didn't only fuck with black folks it changed the entired world...forever.
Now, that's heavy.
Language, Culture, Plantationism, Colonialism, Sexuality, Religion, Spirituality, and SO much more are...

ADS

I made it to Paris, safely...

The time right now is 2.38am in Paris, France.
I got here yesterday.



It was a journey.

From Brooklyn to Newark.
I trekked -
Duffle bag,
suit case,
laptop bag.

C train to Chambers Street.
Transfer -
Ground Zero makes me think...
takes me back...
I think about the place I was when I heard the news...
AP European History at Point Loma High School, 1st period.
I am headed to Europe and seeing history, making history, being history.
Europe bound - how ironic? Very.

I realize it's been Jersey since I was on the the Path train.
On my sidekick 2 I sent "au revoir" text messages, emails, AIM messages,
Stale memories of a love concluded.
I purchase my train ticket.
I wait for the Newark bound Path Train at the World Train Center stop.
Serenity.
A black woman with blonded and black hair and a gold tooth in the front of her mouth -
"Suga, where you going?"
"Paris."
"Really? For what?"
"Yes, studying black Americans in Paris."
"We in Paris?"
"You damn right."
"Well, I don't know you - and I am proud of you."
"Thank you"
"Now, don't you go over there and get in trouble or have no babies."
"*laugh*Those two definitely won't happen."
--If she only knew--
She smiles and walks away.
I rest my head against the metal pole and think.
It's getting real.
Train comes.
I board.

Duffle bag has rubbed my open arm from my tank top raw.
I need some A&D or something.
The excitiment made me not think.
Newark.
I text Janet.
I catch a cab.
I go inside.
She welcomes me with open arms.
I have no gifts to bear.
We chat.
We share.
He.
He.
Less than a day away of a lifetime change - 5 weeks studying in Paris.
A summer in Europe.
Visiting my Brazilian family in Italy.
Norway where the sun doesn't go down.
Red sungas in Nice.
Gay Pride in Gay Paree!
History unloaded and unlocked - overwhelming.
Black Paris.
Paris Noir.
The agency of black.
The fluidity of black.
A nap away.
Janet rests.
I sit.
I think.
I miss.
Ideas of home unclear.
A nomad in every sense of the word.
My connection lies in not connecting, or so it seems.
A survivor of many things.

3:00am my watch alarm goes off.
The little boy at the orphanage in Chennai set it.
Reminds me of him.

I awake and Janet is gone leaving me keys and free range to the fridge.
I walk around the house in my speedos.
Reminds me of Natalia's uncle when I met him for the 1st time in Bahia.
Freedom.

I call someone.
They call back.
I am happy.
I speak to my mother, next.
Blessings given.

Everything seems intact.
I confronted shade in my stay.
I used it as fuel and understand it.
It's not me.
I close that chapter.
Growth.

I fill my water bottle an trek.
Door locked.
Headed to Bloomfield Station.
HOT AS BALLS OUTSIDE!
Striped tee.
Rock and Republic jeans.
HOT!
I catch the train to City Hall.
However, not before I encounter the expected asshole.
Draped in a police uniform.
Hiding behind a badge.
"Ticket please."
I hand it over.
"Get off on the next stop, you don't have a stamp."
"Stamp? For What?"
"You know you need a stamp"
"I don't."
"You do. Just get off."
I think.
I sit.
Waiting.
Bags sitting in front of me - ALL 4!
His partner.
"Whose bags?"
"Mine."
"Going or coming?"
Does it matter? - I think.
"Going"
"Really? Where?"
None of your FUCKING business - I think.
"Paris."
*I left my sunglasses from my eyes to my bald head which is more dry than hot and sweaty.*
"Hmm...Really? For what?"
Interrogation? - I think.
"To study."
"That's cool."
His morale shifts.
I look out the window.
"Ok, get off."
His partner.
"Why does he have to get off?"
I continue to look out of the window.
"Because he doesn't have a stamp."
"He's fine."
"He needs a stamp."
"Well, hold the train and we'll get it."
He smiles and tells me to get my ticket.
He holds the train and inquires about my tattoos.
5 sparrows on my left wrist.
Every 5,000 nautical miles traveled is one sparrow - Semester at Sea did 26,000.
My rites of passage.
Sparrows signify so much - close to home.
I made it home - whatever this means.
I saw a lot, ate a lot, experienced a lot.
Not just for me.
To bring with me.
My dialogue.
My smile.
My tears.
My sense.
My questions.
My love.
My passions.
My me.
All parts of me.
He is blown away.
"That's awesome. You have safe time in France. I look foreward to reading about you."
"I'm flattered. One day."
I give him an article.
The one I wrote.
The diaspora.
It impacts us all.
Not just displaced people of African descent sprinkled around the world.
Cell phone officially disconnected.
I am happy.
Never thought I'd see the day.

Newark Penn Station.
5 blocks N. and 3 blocks W.
One tank top, Calvin Klein underwear, and R&R jeans drenched in sweat.
Monsoon style.
I look a sweaty mess walking in City Hall.
I see her.
Janet and Torres take me to the airport.
Laughs, jokes, double checks of what's needed.
Funny photos and plentiful kisses.
We part ways.
It gets real.
I check in - Lufthansa Airlines.
Plane ticket a week before.
It's reality.
Boarding pass and a smile.
Metal detectors.

Money exchange.
My roommate.
Happenstance?
Same flight.
We sit.
We talk.
We are on the same flight.
We journey together.
Only 2 guys in the program of 14.

Boarding
Dumb tired.
Actually, stupid doo doo dumb tired.
I crash upon seating.
Aisle seat.
In the stuart's way.
I awake.
My neighbor is nice.
We introduce ourselves.
She shares her Riesen chocolate.
She's headed home to Germany for the Eurocup.
Happy.
I see it.
I feel it.
I bask in it.
We talk and open up.
Life.
Travel.
Identity.
Sex.
No sex.
We drink wine.
We get lit.
Things are funnier.
Words are more intense.
I can see the words.
I can feel the words.
We open up.
We fall asleep.
We eat.
We talk more.
We photograph together.
We will be in touch upon my return and hers.
September is when I set foot on US soil, again.

We land in Dusseldorf (total sp?)
We part.
A kiss on each cheek.

Transfer.
Re-connect with Calvin.
We talk about our connections with our neighbors.
Trying to figure out the European adaptors to charge our computers.
Fuck it.
Wait til we get to Paris.
Get to Paris?
Wow.
Insanity, still.

A shuttle takes us to the smaller plane.
I am still taking it in.
But now, I am tired.
Time zones got me.

We board.
I sit by the window.
I nap.

We arrive to Paris.
It's a BEAUTIFUL airport.
I am like a kid in a candy store.
The escalators.

The Amazing Race.
Bags and suitcases in toe.
I have his stuff and he has mine.
We've known each other forever - or so it seems.
We see words in French.
I can cuss here?
Gee Whiz!
Because "excuse my french."
No need to be excused here.
"Damn, Spanish has come in handy and so has Portuguese...but I know absolutely no french accept shit like..well, my name and petit fomage. Yes, Little Cheese! I say "Child Cheese" and "Niño Quesito."
lol.
I digress.
Our goal is to get from the airport to Place d'Italie.
It almost felt like America's Next Top Model.
Be there at a certain time, check in, and meet everybody.
It was fun.
A really nice and cute guy - Eram - showed us how to get our tickets for the Metro.
yeah, simple like MTA (NYC's transit) but this is all in French.
Sweet guy.
We start our journey.
Standing at the base of the platform waiting for the train.
We look at maps and then look at each other.
Laugther.
We made it.
An older light skinned woman who kind of looked like the women in my family.
I hold up the map and ask her and she unloads a mouthful of French.
And automatically I respond in Spanish - don't know why.
And we laugh.
Thank God for maps.
She is going that way.
She holds onto the map.
We use our hands and body language to communicate.
She is from Martinique.
She is in town for a 6 day vacation.
She inquires about us.
Calvin has a French phrase book.
We remember on the train.
Train arrives.
She grabs my bag and motions for us to hurry up.
We get on.
I look around...
comparing and contrasting NYC's train system to Japan's to DC's/
I realize I am a traveller.
I realize I have always yearned to be.
Though it's been a fight.
It's me.
I love it.
A lot cleaner.
She sits and smiles.
She tells me that we have "Sept" stops before we get to our destination where we change trains.
Calvin pulls out his phrasebook.
We scan the pages.
I point to phrases and she responds.
She gives me her mailing address.
I pocket it.
An incentive to now speak French.
Homage.
African Diaspora.
A distant relative.
Our stop -
We transfer.
She guides us.
Holding my globe printed knock off Le Sportsac bag - Pro Sport Sac purchased at Hong Kong night marker 2 months ago.
WILD!
She makes us take out our train tickets to transfer.
Calvin searches.
We are tired, anxious.
He finds it.
She squares us away.
Placing my bag on my shoulder - it's now sturdy.
She positions me in front of the aisle so I can get through easily.
She puts my ticket in and pushes me through and hands me my ticket.
Next, Calvin.
Round II.
She makes sure we have everything.
Kisses blown.
Nothing lost in translation.
Love.

Surreality.

We wait for the train to Place d'Italie.

We sit.

We take it in.

We get on the train with lots of luggage.

We get to Place d'Italie and look at our route.

STAIRS FOR DAYS!

We pump in with bags that carry our lives for at least 5 weeks in Paris.

Going up and not looking back.

We hit the streets.

We are in Paris!

2 black men from the Midwest.
Kansas City, MO
Chicago

My life with me.
We find our apartment for the summer - Cite d'Italie.

No longer an email away.
A phone call away.
A statement away.
Now, a reality.


More to come...



Ms. Acomat of Martinique. An angel.

Time for bed.


au revoir,
ADS

négritude

Just wanted to share some things...




1. "Ship Mates" Magazine. Semester at Sea. Spring 08 "My Life at Sea: Exploring Identity Through Travel"
2. Paris Noir: Art, Literature, and Life in the Contemporary Diaspora. By André D. Singleton

...but it's sssooo true, though!

(image used from postsecret.blogspot.com - one of my favorite websites in the whole wide world.)

ADS

FUCKING INSANITY!!!

I just wanted to share a video that I found on youtube from Carnaval in Salvador, Bahia, Brasil...



And yes, I was in the midst thanks to my dear Natalia and her family that showed me around and welcomed me while I was in town from Semester at Sea.

I literally re-lived the moment when the video started. What a memorable night.

I can't wait to go back and visit more often. Who knows I may live there during the winters. My immune system can't take the harsh winters. Sucks that my health is still impacted from cancer/chemo. But I am so glad to be alive.

Incredible.

I truly miss the Natalia and her family...and Salvador.

I must read for my program from Paris. 2 books have to be read in their entirety by Tues. June 10th when the program starts.

Me & Nat. Beijos mi amor.

Au revoir,
ADS

Live, Love, and Laugh...

Wow, so it's been a super long time, right?
I'd definitely say so.
So much that has to be written.
So many moments to re-live..
Or not.
I haven't decided how I will go about composing the latter part of my voyage.
I have been back home in NYC for a couple of weeks.
I am definitely a NOMAD, now.
Fortunately, friends have let me stay with them.
I really did give up EVERYTHING when I left for Semester at Sea in Jan.
No place to live.
No job.
Papa was a rolling stone, right?
Indeedy, Petey.
But you know what - I couldn't be happier.
I don't think I have ever been this happy IN MY LIFE!
These past several months literally circumnavigating did a lot.
Like - going around the world really is a big deal.
13 ports....WWWWWOOOOWWWW!!!!
And that's not to leave out the actual voyage - living on a ship.
A black man who willingly raised funds to be a part of a shipboard community that goes through the Atlantic Ocean.
I am speechless.
Don't worry.
I will continue to write.
Hell, I don't know how to NOT write.
So just keep up.

So right now, I am in Brooklyn staying with friends - Pia, Sasha, and Heather.
I am really grateful.
I leave next week?
Where - you ask?
Study in Paris, France!
The name of the program is:
Paris Noir: Art, Literature, and Life in the Contemporary Diaspora.
It's a summer abroad program through Syracuse that looks at the works and impacts of individuals such as James Baldwin, Josephine Baker, Aimé Césaire, Chester Himes, Richard Wright, Julia Wright, Anna Julia Cooper, Jake Lamar and James Emmanuel. It is Jazz. Hip-Hop culture. Archie Shepp, M.C. Solar; Wendi Wonda; Dwayne Dockery, and legendary, Nina Simone. Paris Noir is Présence Africaine, Négritude, New Negro, “Sans Papiers,” Immigrant movements along the River Seine. Black International Life. Madame Christiane Yandé Diop, Henri Lopès, “Bricktop;” Jocelyne Beroard; Patrick Chamoiseu and Texaco. It is art and imagination. Henry O. Tanner, Beauford Delaney, Barbara Chase-Riboud, even Picasso, Géricault, and writing on the walls in the Paris metro. And places: Cafés de Flore and Le Tournon; Montmartre, the Louvre, le Quartier Latin and le 18ème arrondisement. African markets; the University of Paris à la Sorbonne and St. Denis, in the banlieu. Immigration. Expatriation. Home. Paris Noir is a dynamic concept, a lived and imagined metaphor that swings - - from New York to Paris via Africa, Haiti, Les Antilles -- Guadaloupe, Guyana, and Martinique. Paris Noir is trans-Atlantic expressions of literature, art and contemporary life in diaspora, and in motion.

Paris Noir is an amazing, intensive five-week program, taught in English, where participants engage a multi-dimensional international experience. This is a unique seminar of academic, cultural and personal growth, urging students to experience, rather than observe, the “City of Lights.” Paris Noir encourages cultural immersion and exploration. It is not touristic. You will see the sites from a variety of different diasporic perspectives.

Like a jazz composition, the seminar class is arranged to convey variations and diverse interpretations of the Paris Noir theme. It focuses, simultaneously, on contemporary literature, art and life of African Americans in Paris, today, and during the 18th and 19th centuries, while stressing connections with global and diasporic relations to Africa, the Caribbean and Europe. As students delve into the “City of Light,” Toni Morrison's famous statement that, “invisible things are not necessarily not there,” takes on new meaning. French Africanisms. African presence, influence, history and aesthetics transform and redefine interpretations, and tastes in French art, fashion, cuisine, monuments, and everyday life. African/Diasporan realities and imaginations generate, in turn, new variations and renditions of the Paris Noir theme.

The seminar's jazz framework, allows students to explore Paris Noir from a variety of disciplinary stances, and pursue particular academic interests. Paris is our classroom. Morning sessions take place at the famous Café de Flore. The afternoon is devoted to active learning, in the city and surrounding areas. There are no pre-requisites.

Now, isn't this cool.

So stay tuned.

In addition, I just want to say that I had one of the happiest days of my life, literally, yesterday while hanging out with dear friends. And we didn't even do anything but eat and go to Chelsea Piers.

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about dancing in the rain."
- Anonymous.

A few pics are below. Enjoy your beautiful, beautiful weekend and summer.
You made it through another season!

Au revoir,
ADS






1. Heather grooves to Michael Jackson - get down with the get down!
2. Pia reading, DOWN! BOOTS! You better be educated!
3. Well, me, jumping around the world - now, from NYC to Paris.
4. Live, Love, and Laugh.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, dear friends Earl and Sasha weren't around. Thus, they aren't photographed. But I want to let them know that I love them and we felt them there in spirit!