I know you've all been going to The Hunger Site every day not only to be good clicktivists but also to read the quotes from black-African-Afro-Americans. I'm sorry to report that they started recycling the quotes a couple days ago. Jeeze. What's wrong with them? There are plenty of great sources for quotes from black people. If nothing else, there's Real Life. After all, quotes don't have to come from printed sources.
Take Joan. I used to sit on the other side of the grey cubicle from her. She was a proofreader, I a composer. We'd chat all day long, even as we worked. Hm. I wonder if that's why I got fired? Anyway, one of her favorite quotes, which I share with you now, is:
I feel ya', sistah.
To which I'd always reply, "You feel my sister? Why would you do that? She's not even here!"
Who is here, though, is Joan's mother, who died many years ago. I never met her, but I saw her photo on Joan's dresser and had to have a copy of it. First of all, she's simply beautiful. Second of all, look at her hat and lacy dress! They're gorgeous! Third of all, her daughter looks like her, and I always love it when families display their shared DNA.
I envied my Catholic cousins who got to wear hats every Sunday (at least until 1962). I myself even own a few hats and they look really good on me. Yes. I have a good hat head. But I don't like the feel of them. Some of them even change my hearing because of the rims. Er, brims. And hats are hot. I'm talking temperature here, not style or sex appeal.
At Ybor City, I'm able to see women trying on knit hats. That vendor's usually next to me. Within sight is another vendor who sells factory-made hats for women and men. I love watching people try on hats. I have no discretion about it, though: I think everyone looks fabulous in every hat s/he tries on. Everyone. Every hat.
At the Buddy Helm (www.buddyhelm.com) drum sessions at The Longhouse (www.longhouse.info), he wears an African hat, like the lid to a round box. He also always wears a loose African shirt and I, too, usually wear something African. Well, the last time, Jeff (www.livingatwow.com) ran out to his car and came back wearing a rakishly drooping beret of some sort. Next time, I, too, shall wear a hat, although I'm limited. I gave most of my collection away in a ruthless fit of trying to declutter my apartment. Still, I have an Annie Hall hat, which simply does not fit drumming, and a straw hat, which ditto, even though the straw actually came from Africa.
Drat. I'll have to go hat-hunting.