#& in looking for this i found that i had loved hanif abdurraqib long before i ever realized it because i found an old poem of his i’d saved

[secondpersonpoetry]

"meditations on an emergency", cameron awkward-rich // "a note on the body", danez smith // "kindness", naomi shihab nye // "when giving is all we have", alberto ríos // "you, if no one else", tino villanueva // "you are who i love", aracelis girmay // "a small needful fact", ross gay

anyway, we get up, we make the bed, we feed the pets, we try to let kindness guide our encounters with the world, we scream and scream and scream and scream until it turns into manic laughter, we feed ourselves, we water the plants, etc

[cowb0ygenius]

Interview with Julien Baker | From the Music Desk

Julien Baker is set to release a new album, "Little Oblivions" on Feb. 26. Baker is coming off the heels of her collaboration with Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus in their group Boygenius, and she played at Eaux Claires one year, playing background as Hanif Abdurraqib read poetry. Abdurraqib also wrote Baker's bio for the "Little Oblivions" release and once we started on our shared love for his work, there was no stopping our conversation. -88Nine Radio Milwaukee

[transcript under the cut]

Hi Julien!

Hello Justin!

Hey, how ya doing?

Uh, doing pretty well! Yeah, how are you?

I’m good. Uh, even before going into- even before reading your bio I was going to ask you about Hanif Abdurraqib, and then-

Yeah!

And then I was so fortunate to read the bio [laughs]

I, when he agreed to do that, I was like- [gestures] I was like, emotional? I was like, “I love Hanif!” I actually met- it’s so weird, I like, met/heard, became familiar with his writing, his poetry at, like, a christian writing conference in Grand Rapids?

When?

Um… Oh my gosh, was it 2017? Had to be 2017. Because 2018… yeah. I think it was like a couple of years ago. Um, and then like-

Why were you both there? … Speaking on Christian writing?

Okay so here- the, um, the person who ran it, um, was so sweet, and had like- so we had played there… “we.” This was before I toured with a band. But uh, played with violin. We had played there at this Christian college, um, in Grand Rapids, like just on tour, because whoever ran the events was like- I don’t wanna say “really cool” as if that’s an anomaly for people who- for people of faith, but like-

Sure!

I played there, they had asked Torres to play there, you know-

Hanif was there…

Hanif was there. Yeah, it seemed like the people programming wanted to have a dialogue that wasn’t so- like- the- I don’t- man. It’s funny, ‘cause now I don’t really like using words like “secular.” Um.. [laughs] There’s just this weird otherness, when you call something “secular.” You’re like, “oh…. Secular.”

[laughs]

But uh.. yeah! Just wanted to incorporate, like, non-faith based art as an exploration of like, more abstract ways of how, how we see God?

Mhm.

Umm… like, what that even is? Which I- I like, of course, I was like 20 years old and I was like “THIS IS MY LANEE” Um, I gave at- at that- I’m s- I’m a little embarrassed, but also…. God bless young Julien. I gave like a fucking powerpoint presentation at that conference-

Wow!

AT THAT CONFERENCE, about how [laughs] about how hardcore music, um, was an analog to the tenets of the Gospel.

How so?

Oh my gosh. I don’t know. I-

Hit me with the thesis!

Man, I don’t wanna- I just- It’s funny because I- back then I was trying to have a thesis. And I thought I ha- I had a lot of philosophies to deploy. And now I don’t. [long pause] Uh… Now I don’t. I’m not so- It’s not like I’m not so sure of them but I just have… you know, even back then where it was like this weird disclaimer I would put at the beginning of everything, like, “well I don’t know anything, but what I’ve found and how I understand faith,” and it’s just kind of like… I… I now feel responsible for, kind of, representing an ideology, or trying to pitch people an ideology that was not realistic. [chuckles] Or like-

What was your ideology?

I don’t know! I thought that, that…. [scoffs] It was a lot of stuff. Um, I thought, you know, I thought living out my faith, and- God, this is probably- I don’t wanna do this to another artist, uh, and be like, “Well I really liked what they said, so I did just like them!” Uh, but I- my favorite band was mewithoutYou? And,

Mhm.

It still is! mewithoutYou rocks. Um, but, I like…. Took everything about their ethos and how... Aaron like, characterized God and like the things that they did and tried to apply it to my own life in this way that when I look back on it now was really like- it was like, not that extreme but I wanted to be? You know? I wanted to have like, one shirt.

Oh, yeah.

And to not have- and like, take all the rider food and walk around outside and give it to homeless people.

Yeah.

That’s not- like, okay.

I get that, I get that.

That’s not inherently bad! That is not inherently bad. But, like… I think that I like, hung all of those actions on this belief that like, there was a true- like if I could only just find out what being right is.

Mm.

What God wants. What, uh- how to best love other people. What the right thing to do is.

Mm.

Then I could- and I was like- but you know, it’s because I held all these crazy standards for myself, of being like… ultimately kind? Then when I was like human and I did something shitty, I would have a panic attack about it. You know?

Yeah. Yes.

Like… and, I was just like- but it’s basically so I’m standing up here in a frickin’ tweed blazer, at this Christian conference, trying to be like, “Here’s how I learned love.” Right? Like, “I learned love because people at a church that was a little bit more progressive than the churches I had been to in high school, um, invited me over for dinner, no strings attached, and I was happy that someone was taking interest in me and being kind to me and loving me with no caveat?”

Mhm.

And the other place I found that was.. punk shows. The other place I found that, was, you know, and it was all wrapped up to in like… me being attached to like, straight-edge ideology. Which ha- like, can be useful as like an offshoot of like an understanding of sobriety but also has a lot to do with purity culture? And like… [gestures]

Yeah.

You know? It’s- it’s just- difficult! And so now, I’m like- I just have less to say. You wouldn’t know it ‘cause I just talked, like-

[laughs]

I just had like a 10 minute run-on sentence, obviously. But like, I have- I have less. 

You think that’s ‘cause you have a larger audience?

Woah!

You think it’s harder to say something if you have a larger audience?

…. Oh god. You know what? I was gonna say no, but actually that might be a part of it. Like, I’d never thought of it like that before, but- man. I used to, like, if I were gonna tweet something, something that I f- that I shouldn’t feel so anxious about like, like- tweeting.

Yeah.

Like, first of all, it’s Twi- it’s like an imaginary digital realm. Like, i- it’s powerful! It’s powerful to educate, to organize, to um- you know, especially like...  whatever, I’m not even gonna get off on that, ‘cause that’ll be like the whole interview. But, I would st- I would have to- I would be like visibly sweating and have to turn my phone off if I was just like, “Hey! please like donate to this organization that’s trying to not put children in cages at the border.” But it’s like, why? I have- with my- with the whole fabric of my being believe that’s the right thing to do, and I have this like, “well what if, what if you’re wrong? What if you hurt someone’s feelings?” And I’m just like, dude- I- I- it’s just like, the more people- I didn’t even… When I was a kid, I just wanted to play music, and I pretty much thought that I was going to be a teacher, and then I was going to use summer break to tour with my band. And just kinda be… a thirty-year-old, like, rock chick.

Cool. Mhm.

Who was just… touring bars.

Cool teacher.

And like, I don’t- I don’t know! I didn’t want- but the same thing is, like, I had somebody say to me really early on, I was like- I said to them—it was my friend Ryan Rado, who made the painting for the Turn Out the Lights album cover—I was like, “Man, the most- I feel like the only thing I wanna do with a microphone when I get it is turn it away because I always learned about shows being about… gang vocals! And like-

[laughs]

And that’s kind of- that’s like- that’s literal, but also, it has implications on how you understand… your platform as a musician. It’s like yeah, I’m just, like… you know? All the people watching my band are just the other bands that just played. So we’re all kinda on the same…

[laughs]

…plane?

Uhuh? [laughs]

Um, and it’s like- now- and i- he said to me- he was like, “But you can’t change the fact that you have the microphone.”

Mhmm.

“So you’re going to have to say something into it anyway.”

Yeah.

And then I was like, “Well what do I say?” [chuckles] What do I say if I wanna- if I truly want the world to be a better place. What can I say, to make whoever follows the Julien Baker music account on Twitter-

[laughs]

-think about being a better person! And I’m not- like, it sounds like I’m be- I’m being so mean to myself, because like… that’s true. Like I want to put ideas and links to articles and history podcasts about like- I want to put that in front of the people that trust me enough to smash that follow button. You know? Like-

Yeah.

I- I wanna try. But I… I can’t, like, I think I- I really just wanted to be good. And-

Yeah.

But it’s so… I don’t wanna be like, “it’s hard to be good,” because that’s like a cop out of like, “Well, I should just be average.” [laughs] But like.. yeah man. It’s difficult, to all of the sudden have-

The-

Yeah-

There’s a low threshold for forgiveness on twitter, you know?

Good God, yeah. Yeah.

I mean it’s like that, you know, it’s hard!

Yeah!

I mean I- I- I read a tweet that Hanif liked today, you know it was like in my feed of, like, “Hanif liked this.” And it was like something about Ocean Vuong—who I love—um, but I guess like, Ocean like, said something today or something like that? And then it was like a… there was like a poet that was like, “This should also be a place for learning.” This- like, if someone said something, this should also be a place for forgiveness. And sometimes, we’re- sometimes we’re still figuring it out! And that’s okay-

Yeah!

-And that’s a really tough thing to do.

No, um, Ha- uh, I was just reading like, I think it was Hayley Williams was tweeting this whole long thing about like saying “womxn” with an x? And then like, like all- like, I didn’t even understand it. Like, what was the- I was just like, “okay!” I guess there was somebody that had a problem with this, and then she was just like, “Thanks. Thanks for letting me know that was problematic, I won’t do that anymore.” And I wish- I wish that I… ha- like- maybe I will get to a point where I’m like- It’s like, “I know I’m problematic! I’m- everybody’s problematic!”

[laughs]

But not least of all, me! You know?

[laughs]

Um, but I’m so afraid it’s like I will sit there and concoct what I want to say in an interview, or like- like when I have to do email interviews my manager will send me like four- like, “Hey, you- you really need to get this done”

[laughs]

Because I will sit here for seven hours, in this spot in my apartment, and be like, “That’s not the best way to say that! I could say it better!” You know, I’m just like- and then inevitably I’ll read it the next week and I’ll be like, “still sounds dumb.” Like, I just-

[laughs] You can’t win, Julien!

Can’t win! Yeah but it’s- it’s freeing. Its freeing to know that you can’t win.

For sure. Um- I’m going to have to wrap this up. We’re-

I’m so sorry!

Um- er- I think we have like two more minutes- I know, it’s been a quick 15. Yeah, um, you had said that mewithoutYou is, um, is your favorite band? And I would- I wanna come out of this with a song to play- could you tell me a mewithoutYou song that we can play? And why you like it?

Wowwww… okay. I’m sorry. I’m like a stan of them so I’m like mulling through their entire discography in my head right now.

Sure.

Um- oh my God. You know what? It’s a weird one, and I feel like.. mewithoutYou fans don’t hate me for not saying, like, 19- 1979 or whatever? But… um… play King Beetle and the Coconut Estate. That one’s really cool. It’s about beetles who think that God is like a light and then they all fight it- it’s like a really cool microcosmic little fable that is a really merciful way to look at humans trying to figure out what heaven or god or rightness is. But it’s just little bugs. [laughs]

[laughs]

Talking to each other! It’s really cute. King Beetle and the Coconut Estate.

Perfect

Yeah. Yeah!

Um, and thank you. I mean, that’s- that was the fastest 15 minutes I’ve uh ever spent!

Oh my gosh! We didn’t even- We just talked about a Christian music conference!

[laughs] We didn’t even really like get to Hanif, or-

I’m so- I’m so sorry!

Oh no, oh my God! The best is when you, uh, make a plan and then you throw the, you know, road map out the window.

Yeah!

This is my dream conversation!

Okay! [laughs] Well good! Thank you! It’s been- I’ve enjoyed this conversation quite thoroughly.

Me too! Thank you! Uh- and thank you for the, thank you for the music! Consistently throughout your career, and-

Oh! Yeah, I try!

And thanks for the, for the new record.

[ucflibrary]

The national celebration of African American History was started by Carter G. Woodson, a Harvard-trained historian and the founder of the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History, and first celebrated as a weeklong event in February of 1926. After a half century of overwhelming popularity, the event was expanded to a full month in 1976 by President Gerald Ford.

 Here at UCF Libraries we believe that knowledge empowers everyone in our community and that recognizing past inequities is the only way to prevent their continuation. This is why our featured bookshelf suggestions range from celebrating outstanding African Americans to having difficult conversations about racism in American history. We are proud to present our top 20 staff suggested books in honor of Black History Month.

 Click on the link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links for the Black History Month titles suggested by UCF Library employees. These 20 books plus many, many more are also on display on the 2nd (main) floor of the John C. Hitt Library next to the bank of two elevators.

 A Fool's Errand: creating the National Museum of African American History and Culture in the age of Bush, Obama, and Trump by Lonnie G. Bunch III Founding Director Lonnie Bunch's deeply personal tale of the triumphs and challenges of bringing the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture to life. His story is by turns inspiring, funny, frustrating, quixotic, bittersweet, and above all, a compelling read. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 An American Marriage: a novel by Tayari Jones Newlyweds Celestial and Roy are the embodiment of both the American Dream and the New South. He is a young executive, and she is an artist on the brink of an exciting career. But as they settle into the routine of their life together, they are ripped apart by circumstances neither could have imagined. Roy is arrested and sentenced to twelve years for a crime Celestial knows he didn’t commit. Though fiercely independent, Celestial finds herself bereft and unmoored, taking comfort in Andre, her childhood friend, and best man at their wedding. As Roy’s time in prison passes, she is unable to hold on to the love that has been her center. After five years, Roy’s conviction is suddenly overturned, and he returns to Atlanta ready to resume their life together. Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation Services

 Becoming African Americans: black public life in Harlem, 1919-1939 by Clare Corbould Following the great migration of black southerners to northern cities after World War I, the search for roots and for meaningful affiliations became subjects of debate and display in a growing black public sphere. Throwing off the legacy of slavery and segregation, black intellectuals, activists, and organizations sought a prouder past in ancient Egypt and forged links to contemporary Africa. Their consciousness of a dual identity anticipated the hyphenated identities of new immigrants in the years after World War II, and an emerging sense of what it means to be a modern American. Suggested by Betsy Kaniecki, UCF Connect Libraries

 Black Sexualities: probing powers, passions, practices, and policies edited by Juan Battle, Sandra L. Barnes Why does society have difficulty discussing sexualities? Where does fear of Black sexualities emerge and how is it manifested? How can varied experiences of Black females and males who are lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT), or straight help inform dialogue and academic inquiry? From questioning forces that have constrained sexual choices to examining how Blacks have forged healthy sexual identities in an oppressive environment, Black Sexualities acknowledges the diversity of the Black experience and the shared legacy of racism. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

 Charlottesville 2017: the legacy of race and inequity edited by Louis P. Nelson and Claudrena N. Harold How should we respond to the moral and ethical challenges of our times? What are our individual and collective responsibilities in advancing the principles of democracy and justice? This book brings together the work of UVA faculty members catalyzed by last summer’s events to examine their community’s history more deeply and more broadly. Their essays―ranging from John Mason on the local legacy of the Lost Cause to Leslie Kendrick on free speech to Rachel Wahl on the paradoxes of activism―examine truth telling, engaged listening, and ethical responses, and aim to inspire individual reflection, as well as to provoke considered and responsible dialogue. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Diversifying Diplomacy: my journey from Roxbury to Dakar by Harriet Elam-Thomas This is the story of Harriet Lee Elam-Thomas, a young black woman who beat the odds and challenged the status quo. Inspired by the strong women in her life, she followed in the footsteps of the few women who had gone before her in her effort to make the Foreign Service reflect the diverse faces of the United States. The youngest child of parents who left the segregated Old South to raise their family in Massachusetts, Elam-Thomas distinguished herself with a diplomatic career at a time when few colleagues looked like her. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

 Go Ahead in the Rain: notes to A Tribe Called Quest by Hanif Abdurraqib How does one pay homage to A Tribe Called Quest? The seminal rap group brought jazz into the genre, resurrecting timeless rhythms to create. Seventeen years after their last album, they resurrected themselves with an intense, socially conscious record which arrived when fans needed it most, in the aftermath of the 2016 election. Poet and essayist Hanif Abdurraqib digs into the group’s history and draws from his own experience to reflect on how its distinctive sound resonated among fans like himself. The result is as ambitious and genre-bending as the rap group itself. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

 Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin Baldwin's first major work, a novel that has established itself as an American classic. With lyrical precision, psychological directness, resonating symbolic power, and a rage that is at once unrelenting and compassionate, Baldwin chronicles a fourteen-year-old boy's discovery of the terms of his identity as the stepson of the minister of a storefront Pentecostal church in Harlem one Saturday in March of 1935. Baldwin's rendering of his protagonist's spiritual, sexual, and moral struggle of self-invention opened new possibilities in the American language and in the way Americans understand themselves. Suggested by Jada Reyes, Research & Information Services

 How We Fight White Supremacy: a field guide to Black resistance edited by Akiba Solomon and Kenrya Rankin Many of us are facing unprecedented attacks on our democracy, our privacy, and our hard-won civil rights. If you're Black in the US, this is not new. As Colorlines editors Akiba Solomon and Kenrya Rankin show, Black Americans subvert and resist life-threatening forces as a matter of course. In these pages, leading organizers, artists, journalists, comedians, and filmmakers offer wisdom on how they fight White supremacy. It's a must-read for anyone new to resistance work, and for the next generation of leaders building a better future. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Long Division by Kiese Laymon Kiese Laymon’s debut novel is a Twain-esque exploration of celebrity, authorship, violence, religion, and coming of age in Post-Katrina Mississippi, written in a voice that’s alternately funny, lacerating, and wise. The book contains two interwoven stories. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

 Magical Negro by Morgan Parker Parker presents an archive of black everydayness; a catalog of contemporary folk heroes. Her poems are both elegy and jive, joke and declaration. She connects themes of loneliness, displacement, grief, ancestral trauma, and objectification while exploring the troubling tropes and stereotypes of Black Americans. Suggested by Jada Reyes, Research & Information Services

 Olio by Tyehimba Jess With ambitious manipulations of poetic forms, Tyehimba Jess presents the sweat and story behind America's blues, worksongs and church hymns. Part fact, part fiction, Jess's much anticipated second book weaves sonnet, song, and narrative to examine the lives of mostly unrecorded African American performers directly before and after the Civil War up to World War I. Olio is an effort to understand how they met, resisted, complicated, co-opted, and sometimes defeated attempts to minstrelize them. Suggested by Jada Reyes, Research & Information Services

 On the Other Side of Freedom: the case for hope by DeRay Mckesson Drawing from his own experiences as an activist, organizer, educator, and public official, Mckesson exhorts all Americans to work to dismantle the legacy of racism and to imagine the best of what is possible. Honoring the voices of a new generation of activists, this is a visionary's call to take responsibility for imagining, and then building, the world we want to live in. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Rest in Power: the enduring life of Trayvon Martin by Sybrina Fulton and Tracy Martin Five years after his tragic death, Trayvon Martin’s name is still evoked every day. He has become a symbol of social justice activism, as has his hauntingly familiar image: the photo of a child still in the process of becoming a young man, wearing a hoodie and gazing silently at the camera. But who was Trayvon Martin, before he became, in death, an icon? And how did one black child’s death on a dark, rainy street in a small Florida town become the match that lit a civil rights crusade? Told through the compelling alternating narratives of Sybrina Fulton and Tracy Martin, this book answers those questions from the most intimate of sources. It’s the story of the beautiful and complex child they lost, the cruel unresponsiveness of the police and the hostility of the legal system, and the inspiring journey they took from grief and pain to power, and from tragedy and senselessness to meaning. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

 Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid A striking and surprising debut novel from an exhilarating new voice, and a page-turning and big-hearted story about race and privilege, set around a young black babysitter, her well-intentioned employer, and a surprising connection that threatens to undo them both. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

 The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead Based on the real story of a reform school in Florida that operated for one hundred and eleven years and warped the lives of thousands of children, this is a devastating, driven narrative that showcases a great American novelist writing at the height of his powers. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Teaching & Engagement

 The Segregated Hour:  a layman's guide to the history of Black Liberation theology by Jeremy D. Lucas On March 18, 2008, as Barack Obama rose to the stage in Philadelphia, political commentators were on pins and needles over how he was going to address the fiery sermons of his long-time friend and mentor, the Reverend Jeremiah Wright. With an eye toward a more perfect union, the soon-to-be president offered his initial thoughts on the current state of race relations in America. "The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning." Soon after the Civil Rights Movement came to an end, James Cone had been the first to write of this "old truism" when he introduced the world to something he called Black Liberation Theology. For those still angered by past and present oppression, there was only one place of refuge where the government would not intrude: the black church. Cone became their primary theologian. Rarely seen in small towns and rural fellowships, black liberation has been relegated to the inner city neighborhoods where the poor reach out for anyone who will give them hope for a better tomorrow. Suggested by Jeremy Lucas, Research & Information Services

 Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead In Whitehead’s ingenious conception, the Underground Railroad is no mere metaphor—engineers and conductors operate a secret network of tracks and tunnels beneath the Southern soil. Cora and Caesar’s first stop is South Carolina, in a city that initially seems like a haven. But the city’s placid surface masks an insidious scheme designed for its black denizens. And even worse: Ridgeway, the relentless slave catcher, is close on their heels. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Teaching & Engagement

 We've Got a Job: the 1963 Birmingham Children's March by Cynthia Levinson The 1963 Birmingham Children’s March was a turning point in American history. In the streets of Birmingham, Alabama, the fight for civil rights lay in the hands of children like Audrey Hendricks, Wash Booker, James Stewart, and Arnetta Streeter. This is the little-known story of the 4,000 black elementary, middle, and high school students who voluntarily went to jail between May 2 and May 11, 1963. The children succeeded ―where adults had failed―in desegregating one of the most racially violent cities in America. Suggested by Betsy Kaniecki, UCF Connect Libraries

 Wrapped in Rainbows: the life of Zora Neale Hurston by Valerie Boyd The first biography of Zora Neale Hurston in more than twenty-five years, this book illuminates the adventures, complexities, and sorrows of an extraordinary life. Acclaimed journalist Valerie Boyd delves into Hurston’s history—her youth in the country’s first incorporated all-black town, her friendships with luminaries such as Langston Hughes, her sexuality and short-lived marriages, and her mysterious relationship with vodou. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

[thesecretbookstore]

Meet The Experts

Each and every week, in addition to the six Secret Bookstore picks, check out the resident genre experts and their choices for you.

Click To Order Any Title Below

Ryan Buynak - Poetry

His Pick This Week: Acid for the Children by Flea

Born Michael Peter Balzary, in Australia, Flea (known as Red Hot Chili Peppers’ bassist and spiritual adviser) is a rocker who begins his memoir, Acid for the Children, waxing poetic about music and vulnerability and his “endless search to merge with infinite spirit”. As a poet myself, I was tasked with examining a book of poetry, however, I was already deeply invested in this book (completely taken aback by its soft humor and poetry magnetism). I am not even a huge Chili Peppers fan (I mean, I like them, but I have never seen them live). Poetry proudly shows up when you least expect it and I am glad it showed up in Flea's autobiography because it gave me a new found respect for him. Hell, he had a crazy life well before the Chili Peppers and he found a way to acknowledge it all without anger or humor, but with verse that more closely resembles poetry rather than straight-forward narrative. The book will disappoint RHCP heads looking for rock & roll war stories from the Peppers’ heyday, but Acid for the Children is an exceptional artist’s love story of family, friends, growing up, the groove, pushing the limits, and constantly learning. RB

Ryan Buynak is a rock & roll poet and the author of a number of poetry collections.

Sarah Elgatian - Literary Fiction & Essays

Her Pick This Week: They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us by Hanif Abdurraqib

I picked up this book because I saw Hanif Abdurraqib signing books at Mission Creek wearing a Ric Flair jacket and beautiful shoes. I thought, I would definitely like to know what he has to say. Thank God. Abdurraqib weaves with great nuance stories of concerts into narratives of bereavement which roll into race and survival. I get nervous with books I'm excited about that they will weaken and won't live up to the expectations they built up. This book got better as it went on, themes weaving and changing and weighing more and helping me carry its load. There is neither a more important nor better collection out there right now. SE

Sarah Elgatian is a writer living in Iowa. She currently spends her days in isolation wondering how long her hair will get before quarantine ends.

[lavendcrs]

csssa 2017 creative writing application (accepted!)

i didn’t see many creative writing apps posted in the csssa 2017 tag so here’s my contribution! message me if you’re going btw

(also: HEAVY self harm trigger warning for my poem and slight one for my flash fiction)

personal statement:

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a writer. Before I could even read, I dictated stories to my parents and teachers for them to write down. There always was, and still is, something enthralling to me about creating entire worlds out of nothing but my mind.

At first, I fell in love with the craft of plot and character arc. For this, I looked to authors like Rainbow Rowell, Leigh Bardugo, and Madeline Miller. As my writing matured, I stopped following the rules of fiction that I used to treat as law. I became taken with poetry’s concision, power, and beauty. I found poets like Ocean Vuong, Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib, and Nayyirah Waheed.

My goal for CSSSA is to learn how to tell my story in the best way possible. Writing has always been a way to process my own emotions, but as I got older, I realized that my writing was just as much for other people as it was for me. I want to write beautiful words, well-rounded characters, and gripping plots. I want girls like me to read my stories and feel a sense of recognition. I think CSSSA will get me one step closer to achieving that.

memoir:

I don’t know why I even came.

I hate bowling, right? And I hate freshmen. And I hate that even as a tenth grade transfer student, I’m just as awkward as I was at my old school as a ninth grader.

Did I think I could just change buildings and become some brave new person? Because I’ve been sitting in this bathroom stall for an hour, listening to girls come in and out, talking and laughing and making new friends, and I haven’t had any brilliant strokes of courage.

A gentle knock rattles my stall door. “Occupied!” I call, getting to my feet.

“It’s me. I got your text.” I can hear the full-faced smile in Sarah’s voice before I even see her. I open the stall door and her arms are around me like a safety belt. Her skin is impossibly soft, and there’s dog fur all over her sweatshirt, and she whispers into my shoulder that she missed me.

“Thank god you’re here,” I’m groaning, and we’re walking out of the bathroom, arm in arm. I realize how little I’ve seen her since middle school.

“Do you wanna bowl?” She’s all skepticism, raising one unkempt eyebrow, like she already knows what I’m gonna say.

And I’m already shaking my head.

We drive to the beach and pick up sushi on the way–California rolls for me and vegetarian for her. The waves are frothy and wild like her hair but they brush up against the sand in calm, even strokes. We sit on a piece of driftwood and watch the sun set.

I put my fingers between hers one at a time, burrow my head into the crook of her neck, and think that this is a perfect moment.

Maybe this new school won’t be so bad after all.

dramatic writing:

COLBIE is sitting in a clearing in the woods, tending to a campfire. SYBIL is lying across from her, sleeping. Sybil stirs.

Sybil: Where…where are we?

Colbie: Somewhere on the outskirts of New York City.

Sybil (Sitting up): New York? What happened?

Colbie: It’s complicated.

Sybil: Yeah, I can see that. I just met you this morning and now we’re in New York together?

Colbie: Just calm down. Kath will be back soon. She’ll explain.

Sybil: I’m not gonna calm down! Tell me what’s going on right now or–or I’m leaving!

Colbie: Jesus, okay. I can’t believe I have to be the one to tell you this.

She closes her eyes and pushes her hands forward. The fire flares up suddenly.

Sybil (Suddenly loud, crawling backwards in a panic): Oh my god!

Colbie:  Look at that. You can talk above a mumble. That’s your new standard of volume.

The fire returns to normal.

Colbie: We’re witches. And so are you.

Sybil: I don’t understand. Witches, like…magic witches?

Colbie (Rolling eyes): No, the other kind.

Sybil: How did this even happen?

Colbie: Do I seriously have to be the one to explain this?

Sybil: You owe me that much.

Colbie: I saved your life. I think you’re the one who owes me.

Sybil (Standing up): There’s no way I’m staying here unless I know what’s going on.

Colbie:  Fine. Kath’s been watching you all year. Is that what you wanted to hear? She called me down here about two weeks ago for backup. You’ve got some serious power, too. It’s a miracle you haven’t been hunted yet.

Sybil:  Hunted?

Kath (Walking into the clearing): You should undo the sleeping spell, Col. It’s time to–

She sees Sybil and falters.

Sybil: Sleeping spell?

Colbie: I already broke it.

Kath: You don’t say.

flash fiction:

You can find her sitting beneath the bleachers in the dirty park, trying to live out the days.

It’s useless to ask her name; she claims she doesn’t have one. You say everyone has a name. She just grins and shakes her head like she knows something you don’t.

When you try to describe her hair color to other people, you can’t seem to get it right. You want to say it’s the color of stars because it’s dark and beautiful but you know that doesn’t make sense. You settle for black. When you tell her all this, she laughs out loud. Soon it turns to crying.

On the second day you find her, she tells you without humor that she lives under these bleachers, in this dirty park. She says the grass here is yellow because she sucked up all of its water and sun. There’s a strange look on her face. She tells you that all she knows how to do is rob others of their light.

You go away after that. You don’t know how to disagree with her.

When you find her again, she tells you her skin is made of paper and you can cut it up with scissors if you’d like. You politely decline. She says you can try it out on your own skin if it makes you feel better. You almost say yes.

One day, when you’re sad, you go to see her. She tells you the best thing to do when you’re sad is to curl up under the bleachers. Maybe you can even live there with her, she says. You’re not sure. You tell her you’re sad now, but you might not be sad forever. She gets mad,

tells you that you probably will be sad forever, so you might as well live under the bleachers with her.

You say okay. She nods. The first night you spend together in that dirty park, she tugs up grass and burns it so you have a fire. As the sky loses light, so does the fire and eventually you both fall asleep.

When you wake up, she’s gone. It’s just you under the bleachers.

You stand up to leave but you find that you can’t. There’s a heavy weight in your stomach keeping you there.

People come to visit you. They ask you your name. You tell them you don’t have one.

poem:

I’ll tell you something

That no one knows:

There is a rusty knife

On the top shelf of my bookcase

Wedged in the middle of my

Seventh grade math book.

And I haven’t touched it in two and a half weeks.

I didn’t even notice its absence from my mind

Until I looked down and saw

My scars blossoming white.

There is only one bloody bloom left, really.

A rip in the seams of my silky wrist;

My scarlet stuffing popped out.

For months, the stolen knife

was the only thought in my mind.

On the way home,

I would watch the train slicing across the tracks and

Think of it gliding across my wrist.

The skin on the underbelly of my arm

Is white and soft like a doughy pastry.

I relished tearing it open

And watching the jelly filling seep out.

There is a safe in my house

Where my doctor told my parents

To stow sharp objects.

I’ve only seen glimpses of its innards.

Blades and scissors and pill bottles

Are piled on top of each other,

But then the door swings shut.

I am locked out of my mind again.

My father hands me my medication for the week.

And still no one knows about the rusty knife

Rotting away in the pages of my math book.

But the skies are softer to me this week

And I think the poison has drained from my veins,

Swirled away out of sight like bathwater.

My thin skin is hugging tighter,

Hiding the spots where the blood used to show through.

I think I’m getting better

Because the knife is gathering dust.

[officetime02-blog]

Liz Barclay Knows Where to Find the Best Breakfast Sandwich in L.A. - Grub Street

If you’ve read about the joy of buttered kaiser rolls in the New York Times, or weed in America in Rolling Stone, you’ve seen Liz Barclay’s heavily saturated, un-glossy, and candid style of photography. She helped create the aesthetic of Complex’s First We Feast, but her subjects extend well beyond the dinner table. The Georgia native has done work for companies like Nike, and photographed figures like Travis Scott, Andre 3000, and Andre Leon Talley. She now splits her time between New York and Los Angeles, where she was after a stint in her hometown of Atlanta. Between gigs, she found time for fajitas in Georgia and stopped by her favorite East Coast-style deli in L.A. Read all about it in this week’s Grub Street Diet.

Friday, April 26 Hotlanta. I woke up remembering the sweet Georgia humidity that awaited me. Then I walked outside and the pollen in the air hit me like a heavy wool military blanket. Nonetheless, I was thankful for the time to spend in the city where I was born and raised, embracing its new era of expansion and creative boom since I left a decade ago.

Being home reminds me of the Southern essence within my soul and simple beauty of my upbringing. My taste was shaped by uncomplicated things: vegetables from my pepa’s garden, like tomatoes and Vidalia onions sprinkled with salt; Vienna sausages fresh out of the can; and peach cobbler.

Anyway, I got up and prepared the six-cup coffee maker with pre-ground coffee. It’s one of my favorite things. Believe me, I appreciate good coffee but I also love an easy batch brew situation just like I do a bodega coffee. Two cups later, I started my morning ritual — meditation, reading, and writing. Doing this everyday has been my lifesaver.

I grabbed a honeycrisp apple and almonds and then headed out to a hot power vinyasa class. After yoga, I stopped by Sevananda, a Rastafarian-owned and run health food store in the middle of the Little Five Points neighborhood. It was a staple long before vegan food and the vitamin lifestyle was ever a trend. The storefront is covered with hand-painted acrylic murals of vegetables, and inside it smells like patchouli and incense.

In the back, there’s a small food counter with housemade vegan and organic hot and cold items. I got a small plate of collard greens and sesame soba noodle salad, along with a spicy ginger beer and walked out through Little Five. Listened to Buju Banton during my stroll and cruised by Criminal Records, a long-standing record shop in Atlanta, before heading back.

I then met up with a sister, and we worked before hanging out at her apartment complex’s pool. There something about Atlanta and the suburbs that traditionally involves stereotypically large apartment complexes with a gym and every amenity possible that all seem to be almost empty during work hours. Coming from living in New York City for the last decade, where a trip to the pool meant spending at least $70 for a day pass, I’d say I was in heaven.

For dinner, we decided on Superica, a Mexican restaurant run by my good friend, the chef Ford Fry. You’re greeted with chips and salsa, and I went for a margarita and the fajitas, which come out as a sizzling platter with spring onion, chicken, mushrooms, and other vegetables. You also get fresh corn corn tortillas and rice and beans, the whole nine yards. We walked home, crickets sounding off in the background and light bustle providing an almost wild noise like soundscape against sweet Georgia evening air. Friday night in Atlanta is always booming.

Saturday, April 27 It was airport travel day. I’ve mastered the art of the airport hustle and always having snacks on deck. I grabbed a coffee at the local Octane Coffee and made sure to ask for — why of course — OAT milk.. It’s like the UGG boots of milks now: it’s a trend, and you love to hate it, but by surrendering to the stereotype, you opt for simple comfort and self-indulgence instead.

I made it through TSA no problem, and grabbed a toblerone bar to nibble on during my flight to L.A. Also had some trail mix, fruit, and my RX bar for my lunch. It’s my best plan of attack, versus grabbing a $12 turkey sandwich or packing a heavy-duty lunch in advance. Sometimes just keep it simple. I had the Clash queued up along with Hanif Abdurraqib’s recent book about A Tribe Called Quest, Go Ahead in the Rain. I switched between that and the Steely Dan biography I was still finishing.

Landed in L.A., and went straight for my house. I live at the base of Laurel Canyon: I’m a big Jim Morrison fan and ‘60s/70s rock, funk, and jazz advocate.

Dinner was with a music-industry friend at Pace, a beautiful gem of an Italian restaurant in the basement of the Laurel Canyon Country Store. It has an unapologetically whimsical hodgepodge of various decorations, including mosaics, acrylic paintings of Kurt Cobain, and butcher paper tablecloths with crayons for people of all ages to draw on. Also, they have the best rigatoni on the westside. We got that, the chopped vegetable salad, and the simple “peace pie” izza, the basic choice that in my opinion is also the most honest. The rigatoni came out served piping hot, tossed in a generous mound of sauce and bright red with pungent tomatoes and herbs and spices. But one of my favorite things here is the room temperature focaccia with tomato sauce that’s served immediately once you sit down. You’re taken care of and made comfortable, and connect with these small rituals.

Sunday, April 28 My day of rest. I had a couple cups of coffee and drove to the Larchmont Farmers Market while Los Angeles was waking up. I picked up Honey Pacifica creamed honey, avocados, hummus, bibb lettuce, cauliflower and fresh strawberries.Then I went back home and made a picnic lunch of fresh berries drizzled with honey, bibb lettuce with avocados, sea salt, walnuts, and a dressing of lemon, apple cider vinegar, and oil.

Later that afternoon, I drove up to Mulholland Drive and went to my favorite hike spot with a friend who lives up on the hill nearby. We spent an hour on the winding trails, surrounded by the wildflowers. I drove off, but before going down the hill read for a half hour with the windows down.

After a slow Yin class at Modo in the early evening, I made a run to Joan’s on Third in the valley for dinner. Picked up a filet of salmon, farro, and their Southwest salad — half the reason I order it is because of the cilantro dressing. The salad itself has fresh jicama, red bell peppers, and sliced avocado, waiting to be blessed with some of that damn cilantro dressing. I’m serious. Anyone who knows me, knows I’m all about condiments, sauces, dressings, mustards, dippable, spreadable, pourable. A condiment of any kind, enough said.

Oh, and not to forget the gummies they make at Joan’s. As a kid I never cared for gummies or sour patch kids — but as an adult? Different story.

Monday, April 29 After my morning ritual, I got up, took a quick SoulCycle class to get some cardio in, and then stopped by Erewhon — go figure — to get some Bulletproof Coffee and drop nearly a rack on the “green goddess ice cream.”

The green goddess, let me take a second here, is an insane $20 concoction that’s essentially a smoothie without the milk and instead spirulina-infused froy-yo. It’s an emerald green color with an almond butter base, E3Live algae, maca, lucuma, mesquite, chlorella, and topped with goji berries and bee pollen. It’s frozen and smooth and crunchy all in the same blissful bowl and comes in a quart container so it’s easily split between two sessions. It does not get more health-food-obsessed-LA than this.

To do some work, I went to Chateau Marmont and drank several cups of coffee and enjoyed the stillness in the lobby. It’s one of my favorite historic landmarks in L.A., with its old tapestries and trim kitchen and bathroom fixtures. Even the old window panes speak to me. The day time is one of my favorite times to be there. There are locals eating and having long coffee meetings, tourists occasionally wandering through, and guests coming downstairs, while Sunset Boulevard is, classic, packed with gridlock traffic.

After working on photos for clients, I had a late lunch meeting. We decided to stay at Chateau. I had the little gem salad, a take on the Niçoise salad, in a sense, with a lightly poached filet of salmon on a hearty portion of lettuce with new potatoes, olives, and haricots verts. It was simple and elegant.

I headed over to Culver City for another meeting near Nike at 4 P.M.; the area is booming with change and new places, including New York’s very own Roberta’s. Traffic was gridlock to and from Culver — these are the moments where you just have to accept the flow and indulge in podcasts, audiobooks, or driving playlists — but I was so excited because I was moving apartments to join my friends Christina and May in their house. I was very thankful to migrate over to the west side and be closer to the water.

After I relocated and unpacked my bags into my new room, I did some work, gave to toast to myself in the new space, and went for a walk to grab a poke bowl at Whole Foods. Just fresh tuna with brown rice, seaweed, fresh ginger, and a ginger hot tea. This was an easy day.

Tuesday, May 30 Preparing for a shoot today I got up early, journaled and meditated, and rode my bike to Intelligentsia for a cup of coffee to start the day.

After an early spin class, I went to Uncle Paulie’s Deli for this amazing breakfast sandwich that I live for. Any east coast migrant looking for familiarity will immediately fall in love with this place, and the presence of a New York style sandwich shop in L.A. Not only because it’s a legacy institution, but also because, in particular, this is the only one in L.A. (Aside from Bay Cities Italian Deli & Bakery, which has a sandwich counter.) But Uncle Paulie’s is different. Paulie is originally from Queens, and he and his partner brought their community and hip hop appreciation. You enter the door expecting to hear Nas or Mobb Deep. I immediately wanted mortadella.

There’s a cold case stocked with prepared goods, from caponata to salads to Zapps potato chips, and various lunch and breakfast sandwiches. I love the cacio e pepe breakfast sandwich, but I opted for the classic bacon, egg, and cheese this time. The bun is perfect, the scrambled eggs soft, and the bacon is cooked just right. This sandwich is sex.

You can sit outside and people watch as cars drive by, or read the paper, and this day brought me into a scene from the Sopranos. I was channeling my inner Adriana La Cerva — with my short tennis shorts and wispy baby hairs framing my face — curling up slightly from the humidity this morning. (Next question: where is my Christopher? That’s a story to be continued.)

Called it day, and moved on to other things before a 1 P.M. meeting at Atlantic in Studio City. I made a pit stop at HVW8 Gallery, to see Eric Elms’s latest show, and did a loop at Amoeba Records. I don’t have a vinyl collection myself but it’s one of my 2019 goals.

My meeting was at Joan’s On 3rd, but I was still full from breakfast when I got to Studio City so I just had an iced latte and fresh fruit. Kept it simple. I then killed time at the Sunset Tower’s lobby and drank tea while I finished editing photos, and when I got a little hungry again ordered the tuna tartare with avocado and a wonton crisp on top.

Went to Fat Dog off Fairfix for an early happy hour drink with a creative director who works at Atlantic records. My love in addition to food and wellness is music, so this meeting was special to me. Working with artists to create their world — that’s my ideal place to be. After, we went back to visit their inconspicuous spaceship-like headquarters off of Fairfax.

For dinner, I met a friend and went to Sushi Time. It’s one of my favorite no-frills sushi spots off of Santa Monica. The dining room is probably the size of my living room, at most, and seats about 30 people, max. But the rice is just right, and the nigiri perches just on top of it so that they both surrender to gravity in sync and become one delectable bite. The fresh salad comes with that traditional house ginger salad dressing I die for every time. Bright carrots and radishes and fire engine red tomatoes on top. It’s perfect with miso soup.

We got a bunch of rolls and a sampler platter selected by the chef: yellowtail, spicy tuna, and more I ate till I was pleasantly stuffed. I love spots like Sushi Time, because it’s real community, real family, real living, and real moments not adorned with the excess. No G-wagons being valeted in the parking lot, and no hierarchy. Everyone is here.

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Source: http://www.grubstreet.com/2019/05/liz-barclay-grub-street-diet.html

[ultralifehackerguru-blog]

New Post has been published on http://www.lifehacker.guru/this-winters-best-nonfiction-reads/

This Winter’s Best Nonfiction Reads

New books from Jill Abramson, Kathleen Collins, and Hanif Abdurraqib offer fresh takes on today’s issues.

Reading List

This Winter’s Best Nonfiction Reads

1/8

From Simon and Schuster.

Merchants of Truth: The Business of News and the Fight for Facts by Jill Abramson

In her former post as New York Times executive editor, Jill Abramson made history as the first woman to hold the title in the Times’s 160-year history. Fittingly: as a journalist and author, Abramson’s own work has often been concerned with issues of sex and gender, including her 1986 book, Where They Are Now, which describes the experiences of the 70 women in Harvard’s class of ‘74—Harvard is Abramson’s alma mater—and considers whether they went on to enjoy the same opportunities and success as their male classmates, and Strange Justice: The Selling of Clarence Thomas, co-written with Jane Mayer in 1994. Now, in Merchants of Truth (Simon & Schuster), Abramson sets her eyes on an industry she knows well: the news media—specifically, The New York Times, The Washington Post, Vice Media, and BuzzFeed. She examines how the companies regained their urgency and mission in the face of recent political upheavals and the increased presence of Facebook and Google, asking the end-all question of whether an informed press can stand its ground. (Amazon)

2/8

From Harper Collins.

Notes from a Black Woman’s Diary by Kathleen Collins

“To be this good and yet to be ignored is shameful, but her rediscovery is a great piece of luck for us,” says Zadie Smith of the late Kathleen Collins, whose literary work, like Lucia Berlin’s, went under-appreciated throughout her lifetime. In 2016, nearly 30 years after her death, Collins burst onto the literary scene with the posthumous publication of her story collection, Whatever Happened to Interracial Love? Now, a new collection of the author’s work—diary entries, screenplays, scripts, and fiction—published by Ecco and edited by Collins’s daughter, Nina Lorez Collins, displays the author’s unique, evocative style: “In the crucible of our family my sister burned like molten steel. Once I saw her arms outspread her legs hanging limp and useless wet saliva dripping from her tongue. I screamed they surrounded her lifted her onto the sheets where she convulsed for hours . . . ” begins the very first story in the collection, titled “Scapegoat Child.” The book sheds light on Collins, a pioneer black playwright, civil-rights activist, educator, and filmmaker—Collins’s film, Losing Ground, a portrayal of a black female intellectual, is one of the first features by a black woman in America—and includes her keen, thoughtful insights into marriage, motherhood, race, and the African-American experience. (Amazon)

3/8

From Riverhead.

The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee: Native America from 1890 to the Present by David Treuer

At the 2018 Global Climate Action Summit in San Francisco this past September, former U.S. Vice President Al Gore said, in an interview with Bloomberg Businessweekeditor Joel Weber, “Some people go straight from denial to despair without pausing on the intermediate step of actually addressing and solving the problem.” He was, of course, referring to climate change, but author David Treuer strikes a similar note in his new book, The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee (Riverhead)—a sweeping history of Native American life from the Wounded Knee massacre to the present—disputing the commonly held belief that the infamous 1890 massacre destroyed the Native American population and spirit. Treuer, whose mother is an Ojibwe Indian and who grew up on the reservation before leaving to attend Princeton, presents a more nuanced and hopeful vision of the past and future of Native Americans: “I cannot shake the belief that the ways in which we tell the story of our reality shapes that reality. . . . And I worry that if we tell the story of the past as a tragedy we consign ourselves to a tragic future,” Treuer writes, echoing Gore. “As much as our past was shaped by the whims and violence of an evolving America, America, in turn, has been shaped by us.” (Amazon)

4/8

From Flatiron.

The Pope: Francis, Benedict, and the Decision that Shook the World by Anthony McCarten

The Pope (Flatiron) follows Pope Benedict XVI’s largely unprecedented 2013 decision to resign (the last resignation was about 700 years ago) and the Church’s decision—in many ways equally shocking—to fill the post with Argentina’s moderate Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio. For the first time since 1415, the world now had two living popes, notes author Anthony McCarten, the Academy Award-nominated screenwriter of The Theory of Everything and Darkest Hour (The Pope, too, is soon to be a motion picture, starring Anthony Hopkins and Jonathan Pryce). The book explores Benedict and Francis’s experiences growing up in war-torn Germany and Argentina, respectively, as well as the ongoing sexual abuse scandal rocking the Church, and provides a compelling look at life and politics in the Vatican today. (Amazon)

5/8

From Henry Holt.

The Empire and the Five Kings: America’s Abdication and the Fate of the World by Bernard-Henri Lévy

The acclaimed French philosopher is the author of several books including War, Evil, and the End of History (2004) and Public Enemies: Dueling Writers Take on Each Other and the World (2011), which he co-wrote with French author, filmmaker, and poet Michel Houellebecq. (Tangentially: Houellebecq’s novel Submission—describing a futuristic France where a Muslim party rules the country according to Islamic law—was published on January 7, 2015, the date of the Charlie Hebdo shooting in Paris; on that same date, a cartoon of Houellebecq ominously appeared on the cover page of Charlie Hebdo with the caption “The Predictions of Wizard Houellebecq.”) In his new book, The Empire and the Five Kings (Henry Holt), Bernard-Henri Lévy turns his lens on America, looking at the U.S.’s withdrawal from world leadership and exploring the rising powers—Russia, China, Turkey, Iran, and Sunni radical Islamism—who seek to fill the vacuum left behind. (Amazon)

6/8

From Harper.

Parkland: Birth of a Movement by Dave Cullen

In 2009, Dave Cullen’s book Columbine, 10 years in the making and detailing the 1999 school shooting, was published. Not even a decade later, and Parkland (Harper), an extension of an article on the Parkland school shooting which Cullen wrote for the October 2018 issue of Vanity Fair, is dedicated to the 17 people who were killed during the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School shooting and to the March for Our Lives kids. The book is a result of nearly 10 months spent shadowing the Marjory Stoneman Douglas students who gave birth to the Never Again movement. “They were relentless,” Cullen writes in the prologue to his book, “frequently racing around the country in opposite directions. That was their secret weapon: waging this battle on so many fronts with a host of different voices, perspectives, and talents—healing each other as they fought.” Cullen has also spent the last 19 years following two gay soldiers for a book about their lives, a project interrupted on Valentine’s Day of 2018 for the Vanity Fairarticle and, now, a book on the Parkland kids’ amazing achievements. (Amazon)

7/8

From University of Texas Press.

Go Ahead in the Rain: Notes to A Tribe Called Quest by Hanif Abdurraqib

“This is the third book by Hanif Abdurraqib,” reads the cover of Go Ahead in the Rain(University of Texas Press). “It is a love letter to a group, a sound, and an era.” Go Ahead in the Rain is more than just an homage to A Tribe Called Quest, though; it’s more like a reckoning. The result is a critical examination of the group—their message and history—as well as a musical memoir of sorts, and an exploration of the lasting impact music can have on the soul. “In the beginning, from somewhere south of anywhere I come from, lips pressed the edge of a horn, and a horn was blown,” writes Abdurraqib in his opening chapter, “The Paths of Rhythm,” tracing musical influence to his roots: “In the beginning before the beginning, there were drums, and hymns, and a people carried here from another here, and a language stripped and a new one learned, with the songs to go with it.” (Amazon)

8/8

From David Zwirner Books.

David Zwirner: 25 Years with contributions by Richard Shiff, Robert Storr, and David Zwirner

Offering archival imagery from the New York City art gallery’s early days, through its expansion to the Chelsea and Upper East Side neighborhoods and eventually to London, David Zwirner—published on the gallery’s 25-year anniversary—chronicles its growth and development through the lens of the artists who have shaped it (Yayoi Kusama,Jeff Koons, and Lisa Yuskavage, to name only a few). The book features contributions from the art historian Richard Shiff, the renowned curator and academic Robert Storr,and founder David Zwirner himself, and offers insights into the gallery’s substantial growth, attributable to its long-term commitment to artists. The book is published by David Zwirner Books, a further testament to the gallery’s expansion; in 2014, Zwirner founded the stand-alone publishing house, which has since released catalogues, monographs, historical surveys, and books on various artists and their work. (Amazon) | (David Zwirner Books)

(C)

[topmixtrends]

“WRITING IS FIGHTING,” wrote Ishmael Reed. One might add, “so is living.” In his debut collection of essays, They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, Hanif Abdurraqib writes: “There is no moment in America when I do not feel like I am fighting.” The book explores political, cultural, and racial issues via the lyricism of contemporary music by the likes of Fall Out Boy, Springsteen, The Weeknd, My Chemical Romance, and others. Abdurraqib is haunted by his own mortality, which he juxtaposes with a love of being alive, a sense of loneliness amid a crowd, and an embrace of solitude.

The book’s title is taken from a note left on the grave of Michael Brown, the unarmed black youth who was killed by police in a suburb of St. Louis in 2014. They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us is a joyful requiem — emphasis on joyful. Abdurraqib has written a guide for the living as well as a memorial for those we have lost. 

Raised by parents who converted to Islam and transplanted to Columbus, Ohio, Abdurraqib suffered the pitfalls of being a young man of color with an Arabic name in a mostly white city. How he lives and why he is hopeful is charted in his book. His work has been published in The New York Times, Pen America, MTV News, and Vinyl, among other venues. In 2016, Button Poetry published his first volume of poetry, The Crown Ain’t Worth Much.

I spoke on the phone with Abdurraqib on Valentine’s Day, as he was about to depart on a lengthy book tour. (Look for him in Los Angeles at the Broad Museum on April 12.) We talked of Confederate statues, race relations, surviving Trump, baseball logos, and aging rappers.

¤

DAVID BREITHAUPT: You’ve been traveling quite a bit promoting your book. What reactions are you getting back from readers? Has there been anything that has surprised you?

HANIF ABDURRAQIB: This is the first time I’ve been on a book tour, and I’d say I’ve been surprised by the kindness of people. The comments on my work have been mostly positive, and I’m surprised by how folks come to share a space with me. I’ve been overwhelmed by their generosity in many different ways. I most like the opportunities I get to meet and talk to new people in new places. The readings are great, but they feel more like a vehicle for me to make new friends. Which is kind of why I got into writing in the first place — to bridge the gap between my desire for human connection and my ability to comfortably attain it.

What are the most interesting questions you’ve gotten from audiences?

For me, the most fun part of the process is the conversation that comes after reading from the book, the conversations we have about music and the interests folks have in the world around them. It’s a type of writing for me, learning how other people use the pop-culture landscape to see their own lives. The conversation is part of the craft.

Is music a survival tool for you? I sense a heightened awareness of mortality in your work. You write that “death is a low-hovering cloud that is always present.”

Music is a way for me to help understand and articulate my joys and fears. It’s not so much looking for a way out but an intriguing way in. I’m really excited about songs, but I’m more excited about digging underneath their outer layers in hopes that something new and important emerges.

I grew up in the ’60s, which was a significant decade for music, to put it mildly. When a new release was due, my friends would wait outside for the record store to open. Then we’d go home and listen to the LP and not talk. Does music hold that same sense of importance today?

I grew up more in the CD than the vinyl era, and I don’t know about lining up at stores. But there was that same sense of excitement for a new release, getting to the store during lunch break or after school. I think that excitement takes different forms today. I kind of miss the album-release cycle, but I understand the shift. Music comes to you today through different venues, such as social media, so I think there has been a shift in how people engage with it. I still see a lot of good, organic discussions across borders and boundaries via the internet. I came of age with the flourishing of online communities, but my introduction to talking about music was with friends in person. This broadened our enthusiasm, and that was heartening in a lot of ways.

Do you think rap has failed as a political tool in that it didn’t bridge the gaps between communities and create new bonds?

No, I don’t think rap has failed, but the people who consume it may have failed to open themselves up to what rap has to offer. I don’t think the genre itself has failed. I think rap is born out of an oral tradition, out of the narratives of marginalized neighborhoods. Rap is still somewhat new and has evolved over several decades now. So, I would ask first not if rap as a genre has failed, but if the people consuming it have failed the genre.

I read in Rolling Stone recently some thoughts Chuck D had on rappers. He observed that the first wave of rap inflicted hardships on the performers — they went broke or suffered from drug abuse and bad relationships. He thought they might bounce back in later life and that the best age for rappers was from 40 to 80. He thought these older rappers might make a new kind of blues for the 21st century.

I don’t think we are going to know how rap is aging for at least another decade. Most rappers older than their mid-30s have had a hard time finding mainstream success, with a few exceptions like Jay-Z. I think we really have to see how rap treats its aging stars, how older rappers deal with mainstream success, and whether rappers can age without becoming legacy acts. Can they create new and exciting music that is relevant to the times?

We are just starting to see how the rock acts of the ’60s and ’70s are dealing with age. Some of those acts have been able to create new music and gain traction not just with the older fans but with younger listeners as well. Take Dylan as a case in point. I think rap has to find a way to access that kind of ability. But it’s still such a young genre that there’s no telling how it will deal with, say, a 40-year-old Drake. What will happen to artists who pass that age threshold — will they be able to remain commercially viable?

Since we are both Columbusites, I want to ask you a question about our town, which has been deemed by some to be a normal American Midwestern city, perfect for a consumer test market. We were the first to test the KFC Double Down (no comment). Since we are supposedly representative of normal, whatever that is, how do you think our racial relationships compare to other major cities you have known?

I think it is as you said: what is normal? Every city has to define normal for itself. I think Columbus has structural inequalities that involve not just race but also sexual orientation. We’re just a few days removed from the guilty verdict of the Columbus Four or “Black Pride Four,” who were protesting peacefully but were assaulted by police officers. Stonewall-era activists, supposed to be beacons of equality, testified against the Four, who were protesting in a parade for a movement that was founded in protest. I love Columbus deeply, but I can’t talk about how great the communities are. There is still a lot of work to be done to level the playing field.

You write about being shook down in Bexley (an upscale Columbus neighborhood) for looking “suspicious.” That reminded me of a computer bulletin board in my own neighborhood where residents often post about “suspicious” people. My neighborhood has a largely Appalachian population, so the suspicious people are usually white, but I’m wondering if the flood of suspicion you talk about may be an outgrowth of the Trump administration allowing racist opinions to come out from under their rocks.

I don’t think this phenomenon is new. In my experience, people have always had a degree of suspicion. Being born before 9/11, I can see a clear dividing line. Yes, we now have technology that immerses us in a constant news cycle, a cycle that shows the results of bigotry developing into actual violence, the ways in which suspicion can be harmful. But it’s not the result of the Trump administration alone. Those seeds were planted long before he took office.

Since we mentioned Trump, are you optimistic for 2018?

The Trump administration is abnormal. We can say he backs policies that are harming marginalized people more than any other administration. But there are elements of Trump’s America that have always been present. I think people are emboldened by his policies, certainly. One of the many ways I exercise my resistance is by creating a smaller America that I can call my own. My America is calling and hugging my friends, or writing in a bakery and smelling the bread. What I’m trying to do is build a small window that looks out from our current space onto a better world.

So you do think that Trump has emboldened those who were formerly tight-lipped and afraid to air their racist and homophobic beliefs openly?

Yeah, it did seem like, after the election, these views were more boldly expressed. But I think there are tactical measures to fight them and people in power who can be urged to speak out against them. There are still many people, though, who think nothing can be done to put these fires out.

Maybe we can start with taking down the Confederate statues. What are your thoughts about the Columbus monument, for example?

I think the Columbus statue has to go. All of them should go. Growing up, my personal monuments were musical, the things I loved enough to write about today. I’m not sure about changing our city’s name — I don’t know what would be involved with that, particularly with a city our size. But I would be more than happy to do away with the iconography, if not the name. Frankly, I’m not sure how many people in Columbus are all that passionate about Christopher Columbus. There was a protest against the Columbus statues last year and I don’t think there was much of a counter-protest. The Southern states have had more of a groundswell about taking down the Confederate statues. I think the issue is not as intense here in Ohio, at least from the view of my bubble.

What about the elimination of the Cleveland Indians logo? Is that a good move, in your view? To me, Chief Wahoo always seemed liked the Native American version of Sambo.

Oh, I’m happy about that. I grew up in a house with that team’s logo on shirts and caps, but I was too young to understand why it might be hurtful. The change has been a long time coming. The process has been gradual, but it’s good to be completely done with that logo now.

What advice do you have for those of us who look toward the future with more pessimism than optimism?

Go outside, turn off the news, drink more water.

¤

David Breithaupt has written for The Nervous Breakdown, The Rumpus, Exquisite Corpse, and others.

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