I know: so earnest. But I see cynicism as a location for struggle not self-identification.
Most recently, I made a long due return to the arts as the right hand to a prominent painter.
Previously, hard-knuckled domestic political operating.
Before that: working abroad getting micro finance operations off the ground in far-flung places.*
*This is not an uncomplicated line item. You want to get into a critical discussion on the aid-industry as it bisects good intentions and neo-colonialism? Welcome.
If you go home with someone and they don't have books, don't sleep with them. Seriously: don't."
Yes...your Kindle counts.
That's John Waters speaking, though my choice in movies isn't always so half-cracked.
No to favorites. Not trying to be too serious with it BUT it's just that I'm trying to cast an ever-wider net. The flipside is that the tape's finite.
OK, I'm half-serious. I'd just rather list currents:
The Half Has Never Been Told (Edward Baptist)
Mr. Loverman (Bernadine Everisto)
My Vinyl Weighs a Ton
Something in the Air
Sex at Dawn by Cacilda Jethá and Christopher Ryan
So who knows? I am a cultural omnivore. I wish there were a better phrase, one that doesn't imply the violent consumption of culture. But, eh, you feel me?
We've been cave painting for 30,000 years and farming for 10,000. That has to mean something, right?
If you have pictures of yourself sporting (ironically or otherwise) "indian warpaint", co-opted Native American apparel, (fucking) BLACKFACE, or any other joke that functions in the service of perpetuating any/all of a litany of racist, sexist, ableist, homophobic, classist, etc. biases or agendas...
Then, I say respectfully: please move along.
Actually, scratch that. I'm willing to engage you on any of the above. But it won't be pretty. I don't need to lighten up. You need to be less of an asshole.