Blog for the Environment

I signed up for Blog Action Day. http://blogactionday.org/ You sign up, post a blog about the environment and I believe the goal is to inspire people into thinking about change.

Today is the day.

I thought this was a great idea, but right now as I'm writing this, sitting behind my desk, drinking my coffee out of a paper cup... I feel like this Blog thing, while creative and thoughtful...what is the 'action'?

What can one little 'ol voice do unless it activates masses to do something?

So, I'm going to ask anyone who reads this to do something for the environment. We don't have to do it together. We don't have to hold anyone except ourselves accountable. No one but you will know you chose a little responsibility.

Responsibility: Just because we pay for things, like land, does that mean we can do whatever we want with it? Didn't we invent money? What does money mean to the trees, bees and squirrels? Does a rose bush planted on Fifth avenue know it is more valuable than one planted in Queens? We decide what is 'valuable' or not. We also decide what we are responsible for or not. And many many many of us decide it is not convenient to be responsible with our environment...that it is someone else's job. What if we decide it is our job? Even in a small way?

Below is a list of small, simple things you can do to help the environment. Pick one thing or do your own. Commit to it like when you give up french fries for Lent or when you decide to start flossing again...

1. Don't use a paper coffee cup. Even when purchasing Starbucks or Dunkin' or neighborhood deli. We ALL have mugs and if you don't, buy one.

2. Don't use plastic grocery bags.

3. Turn off your computer at night.

4. Take a 5 minute shower or a long bath.

5. Turn off lights when you aren't in a room.

6. Use rechargeable batteries.

7. Recycle greeting cards or send ecards. For reals. Get creative.

http://gogreeninitiative.org/

http://www.changingthepresent.org/environment/?gclid=CKqUq-6SkY8CFSasGgodzneefg

http://www.panda.org/how_you_can_help/at_home/

I dare ya.

On the A (Part 3)

B: Yo' that be nasty.

A: Yeah. I was right there.

B: Me too!

A: Yeah. Right there. Right by him.

B: Me too!

A: Nah, you was way in the back. I didn't see you after.

B: We ran!

A: So you wasn't there! I's there. Right there man.

B: I's there when it went off. And, we ran.

A: I was right there. (A stands and poses. T is watching intently, clearly bothered.) I was standing here and Zig was right here...(A gestures to a position in front of him and to the right.) ... right here. Here. And I was right here. We were about to go off and I see Zig reach and then BAM! Right there.

B: Yo' and Angela be screamin'.

G1: Shit. Awful.

B: She be screamin' and cryin'. Yeah. We ran.

A: I was right there. Terrible. I've taken but right there.

B: (Laughing.) You wet yo' pants?

A: (Laughing.) Shit! No! Wet my pants. I been there befo'. But man, right there!

G2: (Laughing.) He said did he wet his pants!

G1: (Laughing.) He wouldn't wet no pants! He be out there. He's there! T was there!

T: (Not laughing.) Yeah, I was there.

B: T was peein'!

A: Ah! He said peein

B: T peein'!

G1: T's not peein'!

A: T peein! Yeah! (See's T's face.) Nah. Nah. Nah. T's there. He was. That shit was rough. T's there.

G1: T was there! T's got it. He had since he was little!

T: I was there.

G1: T has it! Always had it. T has it!

A: (Laughing.) You did! You's a little champ! (A slaps T's arm. Trys to get him to laugh. T never does.) You always! Little T. Runnin' around. Little T. You's a little champ! A champ. Nah. Nah. I'm kiddin'. You was though! You was!

G1: Little Champ! That's T! He is! Always is!

A: T is!

B: T's a champ.

A: T is!

B: He is. Nah nah. Always is.

G1: T. You a champ.

(Slight pause.)

A: Yo'. Zig man. That be messed up. I was cryin' an' shit. I cried. (To B.) You cry?

(B shakes his head no. Stares straight ahead.)

A: I be cryin'. Right there man. Right there. (To T.) You cry T?

(T doesn't answer. Stares down at his hands. A shoves him.)

A: You cry?

(Slight pause.)

T: (Does not look at A.) Yeah. Yeah. I cried.

A: Me too. Man. Sick.

(The train slows down to the 34th Street stop. A, B and T get up. They all ad-lib with each other quietly. B goes over to A. She smiles and looks up at him. He looks down at her with pure love. He's a puppy. He goes down to kiss her. A, talking with T, notices.)

A: Yeah. Lovey Lovey. Say goodbye Lovey Lovey.

B: (Quietly to G1.) I'll see you later a'ight?

G1: Later. Bye. (Looks at A.) Bye! (Looks at T.) Bye T! You be the man T! You always be! You be the man!

G2: Bye! Bye T! Bye!

G1: Bye!

A: Later.

B: Yeah.

T: Bye.

(The guys and T exit. The train doors close. The girls look at each other and smile.)

G1: Damn, he be sayin' he gettin' off at 59 but they stay.

G2: They stay! Awww. He say!

G1: Yeah!

(They giggle and quiet down. They stare straight ahead in silence until the train stops at 14th Street. They both get up to leave.)

G1: Do you call Monica?

G2: Nah.

G1: She don't know? You be tellin'.....

(They ad-lib until they exit the train. There is no other conversation on the subway car. All of the passengers are aware of the newly uncomfortable silence.)

(Lights out.)

This was last Sunday night on my way back from visiting my friend in the hospital. I was the 'Woman Eating'.

On the A (Part 2)

A: There you go ladies and gentlemen. That's magic ain't it? Ain't he? Now put your hands together for me. (B steps aside and A does a front flip landing on his back and instantly begins to spin. He break dances while the group claps in the same rhythm.)

G2: He's spinnin' T! He's spinnin'! You do that?

T: Yeah.

G2: You do that T? You do that?

T: Yeah. Yeah. Before I was two. (Laughs.)

G1: Ahhhh... he said before he was two! (To G2.) You gettin' off wit' me? You commin' with me?

G2: Yeah girl. I'm gettin' Monica's bracelette she left at yo' crib. You knew that. Thinkin' 'bout nothing but yo'self. Girl.

T: (Stands.) I'm up.

G1: (Yelling.) Go T! Go T!

T: Me.

B: Yo'. It's T's. He up.

T: Yo', it's me up dude.

(A has already stopped and is walking up and down the aisle asking for money. T and B do a little dance together, then B steps out. The group clapping becomes faster and louder. They cheer for T. He is extremely good, but in the end stumbles a bit. He pops up and as A walks by with two dollar bills T grabs them out of A's hand. The group stops clapping.)

A: Hey, that's...what...give it...

T: Nah, nah, nah. You owe me. You owe me! It's mine. You owe me!

A: He done snatched that two dollars out. He done took it. (Laughing.) I'm hungry. Man. (To B, laughing.) He done snatched it! Snatched it!

T: (To A and B.) It's mine! You owe! It's mine! (To G1.) Don't he? That's mine! He owes!

G1: I don't know. Shit.

G2: Shit. Little T. Shit.

(Silence. T pockets the dollars and takes a seat. A and B sit near him. There is no dialogue but A and B are whispering and giggling - not about T.)

A: (To G1. Smile.) Where y'all goin'?

G1: (Smiles back.) Shit. I told you, we's goin' to 14th. Y'all getting off at (In sinc with A.) ...34th.

A: (In sinc with G1, still smiling at her.) ...34th.

B: We goin' to three fo'? Yeah. Dat's right. Dat's right. We doin' three fo'.

(Slight pause.)

A: (To B.) Yo'! You be there when Ziggy got popped?

T: I be there.

A: (To B.) You be there?

T: I was.

G1: T was there.

G2: T you be there?

T: Yeah.

To be continued...

On the A (Part 1)

(Lights up.)

(Semi-crowded NYC subway car. A group of attractive, fashionably dressed, black teenagers enter the train at the 125th Street stop. 2 guys, 2 girls and one very confident and grounded, young boy: "T". They enter laughing loudly, pushing and shoving each other. The boy is carrying a small can of Sour Cream & Onion Pringles Chips. They fight each other to find a seat. They configure a cluster of themselves in seats nearest the doors after passengers move to accommodate them. They speak to one another as if they are the only people on the train. They do not acknowledge anyone outside of their circle unless they are directly speaking to that person. When they do, they are overly polite. They do not represent any kind of hostility. All of them appear extremely happy and content. All dialogue and action is very loud, very fast and often one person is speaking over another. A directorial choice might be for each line to be said twice. Loud, fast and quick.)

Guy A: Yo' T. Gimme one a those. Gimme another. Gimme.

Guy B: You see that?

Girl 1: (Carrying a Louis Vuitton purse in the crook of her arm.) Why we bein' on this one? This one? Why we bein' on this one?

Girl 2: Hey T. Chip.

T: Step off. (A grabs a chip out of the can.) Yo' I said step off. (He gives G2 a chip.)

B: (Taking T's arm and a chip out of the can.) You see dat? He be trippin'! All hangin' out and shit' . Trippin'!

A: I know, I know, I know. I seen him yo'. He be all like... (A gesture.) ...and I was all like...(A gesture.) ...and you know?...what the fuck? You know what I mean? You know man? What the fuck?? Hilarious! He be trippin'!

B: You doin' this?

A: Hilarious! Trippin'!

G1: (To G2.) Why we bein' here? I gotta go. (Gestures to A.) He's gonna ride down but we gotta go.

B: (To A.) Yo'. (Takes another chip. T moves to a seat across the way.)

Girl 2: T. Chip. (She crosses, grabs a chip and sits again.)

A: (Spotting a Woman Eating.) Can I have a piece? Just kidding. (A gives Woman Eating a long, charming smile. She is affected.)

B: Yo. (Slight pause.) You got this?

A: Yeah. Yo'. Hilarious! Trippin'. Trippin. (To the passengers on train. Spoken rapidly and loudly, almost in another voice altogether.) Hello Ladies and Gentlemen, if your man can't do this then you should... (To B.) You up? Go. You? (To passengers.) If your man can't do this you should leave him. (B goes to center of the train and suspends his entire body on one arm. His shirt goes over his head revealing extremely muscular abdominals. Both A and B are freakishly strong.) If your man can't. Leave him. See him? See that? If your man can't. Leave 'im. (The entire group starts clapping in unison. Whole beat; whole beat; whole beat; quick half, half. Repeated until the end of the 'performance'.) My man here keeps all his ladies happy. I hope your man does too. (B flips and twists. Does a choreographed act bouncing off the ceiling of the subway. Arms and limbs nearly slapping against seated onlookers. A woman moves to the other end of the train. A is silent during the rest of B's performance.)

To be continued.....

My Very Favorite Quote

There is a vitality, a life force, energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channels open. When you look at your work and see only its ineptitude, inorganic flaws and crudities, remember, no artist is ever pleased. For an artist, there is not satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others. - Martha Graham, 1943

"Oooohhh. As long as we got each other..."

I've been waiting to write another post. Every morning the urge hits me, I pull up my account and sign in. Then I sit there and check email. I'm not sure what to say.

I have several topics in my head. I'm exploring many issues these days. I think they all boil down to one thing that I'm not proud of admitting: fear...(or is it pride?) What if anyone reading this feels like rolling his/her eyes, or, heaven forbid, gets pissed at me...or even worse...sees a side of me I thought I was hiding from the world. A shameful side.

White People Problems. I think Chris Rock said it? When I hear the evil voice in my head ask silly questions about my actuality I can't ignore her. I call her Jan. (I'm kidding.)

I call her Susan.

(Joke!)

Ethel.

(Alright!)

.....Rather than seek answers - 'cause I couldn't possibly ignore her - I punish myself for feeling anxious about illusory issues like 'defining myself'. I can't help but want to vomit a little in my mouth.

At least I have legs.

See? Shame. I'm not talking about sex toys or something you'd hide from your Grandpa... or the FCC... taboos are taboo these days... what celebrity has not been dissected in the name of journalism? Judged and reprimanded for personal choices? Fame does not make someone righteous or responsible or smart, just popular. And back in the beginnings of your mini-society [Jr. High] do you recall any of the popular folks being particularly gracious or generous or good at physics? John Hughes built an entire empire on the beginnings of this odd little expectation we have about our beloved. The Beautiful People, The Beautiful People. I think the entire basis of Marketing and Advertising starts here. Oxy was our first tube of confidence. [Still mine.]

Do you think popularity is the microwave for the meaning of life? Under cooked in certain places, burned in others... severe molecular damage?

People I admire appear to not care what others think about them. Censorship is paralysis. Again, probably why I admire those afflicted with Down Syndrome. I use the term 'afflicted' lightly. And probably why I've dated some real gems. A life-loathing soul can wear a lion's suit like anyone else. Costumes are an expression but ain't it great when it fits the character just right?

So many good things in my life. Growing pains are lovely. Truly. I'm so glad I'm not ten anymore. Although I got more sleep. My worst nightmares were about getting up in front of class without pants. Last night I dreamt I was pregnant and the war in Iraq moved to NYC... oh and for the second time I had to perform surgery on my friend in the hospital... this was of course after I had to drive through the desert to find Greg and hide him from the militia... they'd already taken my brother...

Here I go...

Since I started this blog, I've been inspired to try and think a certain way and not be afraid to share my thoughts and not censor myself. I'm not sure I'm really doing that. I do not at all think I am someone or something particularly special, most certainly not more than anyone or anything else but there is this part of me that is enjoying showing-sharing a part of myself to the 'world' this way. I had thought initially it was because I like to call myself an artist. I like entertaining folks. And I think part of it is because I truly like to make people happy - any way I can - but here is the thing: I just went back and re-read my bloggy blogs and felt a little strange. They have this carefully structured rhythm and each is very similar to the next. And it has just dawned on me why, so I thought I'd share-show THIS to the world and let it lie:

I think a large part of why I enjoy expressing myself artistically is because it enables me to have a feeling of control about how people view me. I can define myself through a medium.

What if I stopped defining myself? Does that even make sense? Does that cause an existential downward spiral? Or is that a secret-to-happiness sort of thing? This is a new discovery here so I'm rambly but I feel like I've hit something. Having an 'Ahh' moment, you know?

K. I'm just gonna stop here. Leave it as this before I go off telling everyone dirty secrets about my shaving habits or something. Not that I have strange shaving habits. Just sayin'. But I do grab Greg's shaver every once in a while and attack the little hairs on my upper lip. I've heard I shouldn't do that but I'm too lazy to pluck. Oh Moises Alou...