I like to play this game with myself. I mostly play it in the car. Or while walking my dog. Or going to the library. Anytime I'm out and about in the South.
It's called, "Count the Confederate Flags."
I see them as patches on jackets, as bumper stickers, but by far my favorite is flying from the back of a beat up pickup truck.
I saw seven in half an hour on my way home from work a few weeks ago. This has really started to bother me. I want to know the meaning behind why people still fly the Confederate flag with such pride knowing the feeling of such deep suppression degradation that it carries for an entire race of people.
So, I decided to begin asking people what it means to them, and perhaps start documenting this journey, whether it be through photographs or interviews.
I plan to make this journey with sincerity, mostly to save myself from name calling or worse, but I do believe this will stir up some knowledge I have been ignorant to in the past.
I hope I make this worth your while, too.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
too good to keep for myself: California Goodwill and Abbey Road
three shots of scotch and this is what you get...
Don't act like you've never been there....these is down-trodden times....
So, I saunter into the Goodwill the other day like I own the place. I mean, I come from Kentucky, where you walk into a thrift shop, you see an old baseball card you know is worth $20, and you talk the 70-year-old woman behind the counter into selling it to you for 30 cents. It sounds cruel I know, but you only think so because I said she was 70. This is the way of the world though, and I'll expect no less when I'm 70, if I make it to 70.
Anyhow, my friend informs me that the way of the thrift-store world doesn't apply in well-cultured California, to where I recently moved -- the location of the Goodwill mentioned in the above sauntering.
So, I saunter into the Sacramento Goodwill. Of course, I am immediately bombarded with the smell of dusty old clothes and that sound of those plastic coat hangers with the steel hooks grating against metal as mostly women finger quickly through throw-away yellow and orange dresses from some recently deceased aunt's collection, looking for a find.
Looking for a find. Oh, I found my find -- mind you. And I was sure I had it cheap because I saw the store clerk behind that glass counter they put all those red and yellow shit-ugly bead necklaces inside -- like they're worth something.
I ain't even gonna waste your time with the "I ain't racist but" schpeal, because that shit is tired.
The guy behind the counter was a 70-year-old wrinkledly old black man with a raspy-voiced laugh that echoed harsh -- like you know he used to play a lot of poker -- but the dude was so old that I figured he didn't know shit.
So there it was. My find. Not much really I guess, but this is Goodwill, so you take what you can get. Things are supposed to be like $2. One gets excited easily.
Look it up on eBay. About $30 for an original, plastic-sealed, vinyl Beatles Abbey Road. I ain't even that much of a Beatles fan, but I know a find when I see it. (I already have one, just not in mint condition like this one).
So, it's got a $25 price tag on it. What, suddenly Goodwill got the Internet?? Is there that much difference in a mid-western Goodwill and a left-coast Goodwill (I heard that, "left-coast", on the radio today out here, bunch of wackos).
I called Old Smokey over and I'm like, "Is this an old price tag from somewhere else"???
To continue with the theme of sauntering, he actually did saunter over, with a swagger, kind of a bouncing on his hips in a dance sort of way to prolong the time it took him to get to the counter. He bounced enough to knock 20 years off of what I expected was his age. He did it just to make sure that I understood that he was no fool.
"Maaaannn....." he actually paused like this, the old shit. "Thaaatt's Abbey Raaaoooaaad."
What the hell, I said to myself. Why would a a crotchety old retired poker-playing black man know jack about the Beatles?
Well, he did. The find was done, and I was stuck while Kartika painstakingly slowly grated through those steel-hooked plastic coat hangers....Why, I don't know, but I bought one T-shirt that with a Camaro and a cop car that says "Smokey and the Bandit" on it.
~Sent to me via email from J March 2009
Don't act like you've never been there....these is down-trodden times....
So, I saunter into the Goodwill the other day like I own the place. I mean, I come from Kentucky, where you walk into a thrift shop, you see an old baseball card you know is worth $20, and you talk the 70-year-old woman behind the counter into selling it to you for 30 cents. It sounds cruel I know, but you only think so because I said she was 70. This is the way of the world though, and I'll expect no less when I'm 70, if I make it to 70.
Anyhow, my friend informs me that the way of the thrift-store world doesn't apply in well-cultured California, to where I recently moved -- the location of the Goodwill mentioned in the above sauntering.
So, I saunter into the Sacramento Goodwill. Of course, I am immediately bombarded with the smell of dusty old clothes and that sound of those plastic coat hangers with the steel hooks grating against metal as mostly women finger quickly through throw-away yellow and orange dresses from some recently deceased aunt's collection, looking for a find.
Looking for a find. Oh, I found my find -- mind you. And I was sure I had it cheap because I saw the store clerk behind that glass counter they put all those red and yellow shit-ugly bead necklaces inside -- like they're worth something.
I ain't even gonna waste your time with the "I ain't racist but" schpeal, because that shit is tired.
The guy behind the counter was a 70-year-old wrinkledly old black man with a raspy-voiced laugh that echoed harsh -- like you know he used to play a lot of poker -- but the dude was so old that I figured he didn't know shit.
So there it was. My find. Not much really I guess, but this is Goodwill, so you take what you can get. Things are supposed to be like $2. One gets excited easily.
Look it up on eBay. About $30 for an original, plastic-sealed, vinyl Beatles Abbey Road. I ain't even that much of a Beatles fan, but I know a find when I see it. (I already have one, just not in mint condition like this one).
So, it's got a $25 price tag on it. What, suddenly Goodwill got the Internet?? Is there that much difference in a mid-western Goodwill and a left-coast Goodwill (I heard that, "left-coast", on the radio today out here, bunch of wackos).
I called Old Smokey over and I'm like, "Is this an old price tag from somewhere else"???
To continue with the theme of sauntering, he actually did saunter over, with a swagger, kind of a bouncing on his hips in a dance sort of way to prolong the time it took him to get to the counter. He bounced enough to knock 20 years off of what I expected was his age. He did it just to make sure that I understood that he was no fool.
"Maaaannn....." he actually paused like this, the old shit. "Thaaatt's Abbey Raaaoooaaad."
What the hell, I said to myself. Why would a a crotchety old retired poker-playing black man know jack about the Beatles?
Well, he did. The find was done, and I was stuck while Kartika painstakingly slowly grated through those steel-hooked plastic coat hangers....Why, I don't know, but I bought one T-shirt that with a Camaro and a cop car that says "Smokey and the Bandit" on it.
~Sent to me via email from J March 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Southern Hospitality: Low country boil, where have you been hiding?
Beaufort, South Carolina, couldn't have been a more perfect weekend. Peace was present with every member of the family, even as I was greeted the first time, and with a warm, loving, unexpected hug. It's life as I always imagined people might have lived, but with much more fun and relaxation. And a wonderful partner to share it with. I'm still shining from the trip.
Friday, February 20, 2009
too good to keep for myself: Sadie and her squirrels
anyways it was kinda cute..Sadie's little rebellion ;) Since I was getting really cold and Sadie showed no inclination towards pooping I hurried her back home. I think the early hour of the day and all the birds and squirrels outside got her really excited so she did'nt wanna go home. man I had to drag her. then we got home and she visibly sulked. went and sat behind J's chair. then i kinda felt bad so I tried to get her to play with her bunny....(and I had played with her before and she had never been that rough)..thats when she started spazzing out around me. It was a little scary and a little funny. it was identical to Ms.kitty's spazzing..feral look in the eyes and all. but her size being 5 times larger kinda scared me. so she kept doing these wild circles around me barking the whole time , then jumped on the couch and crouched there then jumped down towards me almost knocking me down...then about 10 minutes later she calmed down but still seemed a little upset. I really did'nt know what to do so i just let her be. she came around by afternoon and even played with me and from then on it was back to normal. I took her out in the evening and late yesterday night and she was fine!!! this morning too!!! moral of the story: dont come between Sadie and her squirrels!!!
I loved having her. she's so cute when I take her out. she has to sniff EVERYTHING. the grass, some dog's old pee, she even adopted a flattened roadkill (formerly a squirrel... i think) and wanted to take it home. hahahahhaaaaaaaaa and she nearly jumped out of her leash in fright today when a bigger and blacker dog barked at us. I will miss the little girl and our walks.
~July 2007 my lady K
~July 2007 my lady K
"like to clean up after they self"
yes hi i am looking for a room mate someone who can pay there rent on time and someone who has a job. i need a room mate who is nice like to cook and like to clean up after they self. me i am a very nice person to get along with i have kids that come over on the weekend and they love people so i hope you like kids too. and you have to by food for the house i will help out to. you can call me at 614-431-5765
(one example that I found on Craig's List while searching for a roommate in Ohio 2008)
(one example that I found on Craig's List while searching for a roommate in Ohio 2008)
too good to keep for myself: lunch interview etiquette
So I have a lunch interview with one of the childrens hospitals PI next friday and I checked out online on lunch interview etiquettes. All the advice I found was very entertaining. Here is a snippet:
Do not:- Sneeze on food.
- Dunk bread in soup.
- Be rude to the waiter.
- Get drunk.
- Speak with your mouth full of food.
- Chew with your mouth open.
~from K
My Jesus, My Savior: Live the gospel
"Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words."
~ St. Francis of Assisi
I cherish these moments.
I saw her as I was pulling my car into the post office. She reminded me of my Grammy, if Grammy were African-American, walked with a cane, about a hundred pounds heavier, and wore a floral nighty in public. A floral nighty she wore, but only for the family to see.
But there she was, nearly crawling into the post office, barely able to hold herself up, with a handful of letters. I hoped that I would be able to see her face. And sure enough, I got the chance. After juggling to get her letters in the slot, she walked toward the inner double doors to wait in the long line. Oh, I hope someone loves me enough to rub my feet when I'm that old. She just looked like she needed a good rub. I stepped over and held the door open for her. It took her a while to get through, and then I held the door until the line got short enough for her to enter completely. It lasted about two minutes or so, which is a long time when you're being watched by about ten people. I didn't mind, though, because I still pictured my Grammy, and if she were alive and in floral print, I hope someone would cherish her just as much as I cherished this woman. May God bless her.
As for my next stop--the Salem Library. It's really an oversize room with a couple of old computers that run Windows 98 and tons of kids books, romance novels, and books on tape. Rockin', I know. Since both librarians know my aunt and uncle, I was promptly told twice to make sure I don't forget to take my aunt's book with me when I leave. After my thirty minute computer session, rudely taking up the kids' after-school computer game battle time, I grab the book to courier home and walk outside and what do I see? A little dog that looks like Toto, only much cuter, waiting outside, peeking through the glass. I ask a woman if that's her dog. Nope. So as I open the door, here's what goes down.
Poochie pushes to try to get in.
"Umm, excuse me mister, but I don't see a library card. I don't think they'll let you in."
Poochie stares at me with tilted head, as they usually do when I speak to them.
As I walk past him, I realize the reason why I've been carrying around a dog chew stick (aka chew-chew) in my purse for the last 3 months. I dig around to the bottom of my purse and pull it out. Poochie's eyes double in size and instantly he becomes my best friend. I make the hand off and he runs to the bushes to savor his prize.
I still have no idea whose poochie he is, but I love him anyway.
I do believe these wonderful beings were put in my life for a reason, and I see them as gifts from God.
~ St. Francis of Assisi
I cherish these moments.
I saw her as I was pulling my car into the post office. She reminded me of my Grammy, if Grammy were African-American, walked with a cane, about a hundred pounds heavier, and wore a floral nighty in public. A floral nighty she wore, but only for the family to see.
But there she was, nearly crawling into the post office, barely able to hold herself up, with a handful of letters. I hoped that I would be able to see her face. And sure enough, I got the chance. After juggling to get her letters in the slot, she walked toward the inner double doors to wait in the long line. Oh, I hope someone loves me enough to rub my feet when I'm that old. She just looked like she needed a good rub. I stepped over and held the door open for her. It took her a while to get through, and then I held the door until the line got short enough for her to enter completely. It lasted about two minutes or so, which is a long time when you're being watched by about ten people. I didn't mind, though, because I still pictured my Grammy, and if she were alive and in floral print, I hope someone would cherish her just as much as I cherished this woman. May God bless her.
As for my next stop--the Salem Library. It's really an oversize room with a couple of old computers that run Windows 98 and tons of kids books, romance novels, and books on tape. Rockin', I know. Since both librarians know my aunt and uncle, I was promptly told twice to make sure I don't forget to take my aunt's book with me when I leave. After my thirty minute computer session, rudely taking up the kids' after-school computer game battle time, I grab the book to courier home and walk outside and what do I see? A little dog that looks like Toto, only much cuter, waiting outside, peeking through the glass. I ask a woman if that's her dog. Nope. So as I open the door, here's what goes down.
Poochie pushes to try to get in.
"Umm, excuse me mister, but I don't see a library card. I don't think they'll let you in."
Poochie stares at me with tilted head, as they usually do when I speak to them.
As I walk past him, I realize the reason why I've been carrying around a dog chew stick (aka chew-chew) in my purse for the last 3 months. I dig around to the bottom of my purse and pull it out. Poochie's eyes double in size and instantly he becomes my best friend. I make the hand off and he runs to the bushes to savor his prize.
I still have no idea whose poochie he is, but I love him anyway.
I do believe these wonderful beings were put in my life for a reason, and I see them as gifts from God.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Southern Hospitality: Lakeside Lovin'
I found these lovely ladies posed on a picnic. Being the upstanding citizen that he is, and one of the many reasons why I'm so proud to be with him, Mark of course had to stop and dispose of this fine art. I just want to know that whoever the artist was who had the idea to create such a raw moment, I was there to appreciate it. So here it is, my first lesbian couple in the South. I'm so happy to know that homosexuality does exist in the South.
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