mikey smith raw works festival at anitafrika dub theatre

from tuesday december 16 to saturday december 20, come engage in a revolushunary afrikan model of theatre featuring works-in-progress. each evening is comprised of workshop readings and q & a by adt! resident artists and performances by local storytellers including saidah baba talibah, da original one, ania, sedina fiati and ian kamau. the five day festival celebrates the end of the first term of the 2008-2009 season culminating in a ritual-based ceremony of drummers, dancers, poets, vocalists, djs, dancing and great vibes.

all proceeds support anitafrika! dub theatre 2009 programming!

tues dec 16 doors 7pm *pwyc suggested $10*
resident raw works & talk back sessions 8pm
:: jamilah malika
:: liza paul
feature storyteller 9pm
:: saidah baba talibah
:: dbi young with live house band rakesh tewari and ian de souza
open mic 9:30pm (contact village@anitafrika.com)

wed dec 17 doors 7pm *pwyc suggested $10*
resident raw works & talk back sessions 8pm
:: natalyn tremblay
:: kim crosby
feature storyteller 9pm
:: ian kamau

thurs dec 18 doors 7pm *pwyc suggested $10*
~bcurrent raiz'n nite~
raw works & talk back sessions 8pm
:: tanya pillay
:: rhoddy richardson aka i am that i am
feature storyteller 9pm
:: sedina fiati

fri dec 19 doors 7pm *pwyc suggested $10*
resident raw works & talk back sessions 8pm
:: colanthony humphries
:: sketch ensemble
feature storyteller 9pm
:: ania
:: sea blackwalker
:: aya dance collective

sat dec 20 doors 7pm *pwyc suggested $15*
:: drummers & dancers ritual closing ceremony 8pm
feature storytellers 9pm
:: da original one
:: d'bi young
:: akinoah
jam down session 10:30pm
:: dj el machetero

photography by moses kofi 'not so far from home'
mural by victor manzo 'love and revolushun'

come and support art in process, art for social change, art for life - bring fresh ideas and give us your feedback and don't forget to tell your friends!

much love,
adt! collective
www.anitafrika.com
416 434 1823 village@anitafrika.com

stories that you like

i've recently realized that my maternal family, mother and aunts, have a deep penchant or significant preference or uncommon affectation towards sad stories with unhappy endings and misbegotten intentions and tortured souls and regret and so on.

i am troubled.

growing up, the constant occupation with tragic news headlines or sad stories from neighbors, loved ones, (or hated ones, even better) never struck me as strange...

but now, now, when i receive calls of suchs news, relayed with a casual, satisfied knowingness but a touch of precarious fear nonetheless, i am struck by their frequency and the twisted joy in their delivery...

rought down on me with the heavy, weighted 'truths,' of people facing their mortality, 'jammie, one thing ma ah go tell yuh, one thing is don't waste yuh life!'

even romantic pragmatic cliches drop like lead, 'yuh know 'what happens to a dream deffered'?' langston would reel, would he not?

i do.

i find i prefer happy stories, novels that end with a sense of completion, films that allude to the continued existence of scenes, tales that teach but do not torture their characters... some sense of closure without impending doom.

i wonder what that means? what generational shift or change in geography, citizenship, class has created this rupture? what could be done to change their obsession? if it should change? if i am merely young and naive and age will transform my desire for a happy ending into a bitter realization of its impossibility?

the odds are

what are the odds
that you find
someone you like

who likes you?

question to the universe

why aren't reproductive responsabilities more equally distributed across genders?

does the monthly cycle, gestation, labour, birth and breastfeeding imply that nature trusts women over men?

or the inverse?

(shudder)

times neue roman -

go to the times neue roman myspace

a moratorium

today is monday
i declare a moratorium on men this monday
i will call it 'no more men monday.'

on this day, i solemnly vow
to discontinue sex with men
temporarily
(this is attempt number two -
hoping there won't be a number three)
to free my mind of 'it' as a necessity
of 'it' as a distraction, a preoccupation, a potential
tragedy.

but men only.
apologies.

note to self

another year is passing...

don't be so hard on yourself this time,
be easy,
there's so much more to come.

if you don't forgive yourself -
others will not.

remember to schedule more
and make a budget next time

everything can be undone
and rebuilt again.

don't regret -
you can change it.

you're not dead yet -
nightmares can be resolved.

i won't stand for shame.
i will stand for truth -
truth for healing. only healing.
no more truth for hurting. no more.

you can't know what was
'a waste'
until the very end.
even then,
to call it a waste
would show a severe lack of
humility

for if you are humble enough to see
nothing was ever wasted
if it was given a try at all.

remember what's important

important technique - life mapping - begin last year, chart all meaningful events and connections to following occurrences, culminate in potential forward movements

important questions - what have i learned? a new lesson? was it a re-learning? an un-learning?

important ideas - compassion and mindfulness. accountability and integrity. time is always.

time

time passes
time flies
time seems to zip on by

brings changes
makes for growing
leads you to the self

not tomorrow's
or yesterday's
but now's
self

can't wonder bout
future/past
self
can only know
nowself

that's time
just now
no more
then gone

so stay
present

and don't fret
time knows
what we don't

the moon,

the moon hang fat and low the other day when i finally emerged from my bed, bundled up and left the house. i promptly blamed her for my senseless, constant, recent (but familiar) anxiety, 'ah, it's you... my dear, from the window i couldn't see you but now the evening has brought your xray image, a light bright white vision of fine lines and shadows, translucent and out of place in dusk sky.' the day was a write-off, considered too long and began too late, spent paralyzed in reflection - i know this day. this day follows me, peeps from around a corner... then pounces early in the morning without warning. this day is full of questions and wonder, not curious, nor hopeful, but more leery and apprehensive in nature. the questions and wonder are met with easy justifications and explanations - my mind is an expert, an old hand, no amateur here, i know my way around this maze of made up interpretation, defense, analysis and some pretense. i trod to the center, scale the wall with ease and sit atop it quite comfortably, my eyes perusing the twisted paths and the locked gate on the horizon ... in the mist. i sit here often and look out... i look out, pull my collar up against the cold and breathe until i'm dizzy. inhale, count to seven, exhale, count to seven.until my lighthead takes on the weight of a brick, sends me veering slight left, no right, and down.

the street is much too busy to look out from my perch. people are passing, talking, commenting, laughing - jostling, bustling, hustling. it's going to be winter soon. i'll be here. when that snow comes. i'll be here. i've chosen to. or the staying chose me. i'm not sure now. but i'll be here. when the sun returns, i'll be here. i've committed. in my own mind. and it's good. i'll be busy. But what happens when the moon returns?

thanks saf... sigh

ONLY FOUR DAYS LEFT!

dis-connect

sometimes you gotta feel
far flung and
detached to
see how to get in,
get back
on track
again.

and moreover,
if you even want to.

NUIT BLANCHE - a BUST

so unless you attended a scotiabank funded thereby city sanctioned event, you were harangued by police who so audaciously shut down public parties put on by real people for people to access in tha street (where people be, duh!) - tha police decided that during a purportedly ' city wide art thingy' (actual marketed tagline) but in effect it was a nuit blanche zone-wide art thing and turned out that regular people could not participate independent of corporate sponsorship by jammin out in front of or inside their homes and/or establishments.

my trajectory for the evening -

1. styrofoam ones and times neue roman UHAUL show at the lower kensington 11:30pm set- no 1. of 4 stops in the streets of this city - COPS SHUT US DOWN.
2. musicbox live installation with five featured musicians and installations by five artists inside - 12pm COPS SHUT US DOWN (amazingly for a noise complaint -at 12pm in kensington - in 'the area' although we had been shut down for almost 45 mins to give some sound respite to our friends in the UHAUL)
3. rolly's garage jam - 3am party going strong - we're thinking til the 6am nuit blanche official end, but no, wait - screech, that's five cop cars and 6 bike cops rolling up to... SHUT US DOWN.

horrendous, despicable, outrageous. that's why Harper can talk foulness about the arts, cause he's talking about galas and corporate sponsored events - know what real canadians are interested in? real artists with real connections to community who make real art to really share a sentiment with community in a way that is accesible and inclusive AND A CITY THAT DOES NOT SHUT US DOWN - why? because we're not in nuit blanche zone a ,b or c? just foolishness. i mean 'white night' - that's just creepy.

but here's something real unforgettable - the u-haul, wat a stellar idea fella, beauty clip

nneka - the uncomfortable truth

not interested

please don't push a product
please don't upsell the sale
please don't promo some improvement
i don't buy it
i won't buy it
i wouldn't even if i had the cash
but broke means
i'm not interested

just breathe

stop processing a moment

just breathe

cease the nonstop todos

just breathe

end the endless follow up

just breathe

the priority
becomes
apparent
when you

just breathe

friend,

oh friend,

friend,
i miss you -

i sense the
distance
but
moreover
i worry
about you
sometimes

at times
i fret that
you are
unhappy

see,
i worry
sometimes
that you are
not being
true
to you

or even
the possibility of
something new
for you

but these thoughts
are so much
less important
(and so much
more subjective)
than the fact that,

friend,
i miss you -

lawd,
i miss your
face
and
laughter

mostly
laughter

see,
i don't want to ask
but
when will i see you?

no,
i'm
not
so
busy

that one time
i fell asleep -
i'm so sorry

because
truly
i miss you
like 'crazy'
like alot
like i miss
myself
when life
becomes
'busy'

truly,
i must miss
myself
with yourself
mostly
when
we laugh
also
when
we chat
bout you
and me
and
endless
possibilities

so
come over
or
call me
cos friend,

i miss you
much
love

finance figures fall furiously

so what does it mean?
when media references the great depression?
when bush bails out billion dollar banks?

i imagine rats scurrying
or
liquid money riverbeds sucked dry
or
copper coins spilled through cracks

into pockets?
for cash can't quite disappear
science equations make that much clear -

but really,
bush has bailed out
banks with bad karma
commercial turn speculative
straight speculate about rates
that aren't their business
about figures that aren't their affair -

now 4 million
low income
home owners
working poor
soon on the street
with more to come

to be joined by slick haired men in suits?
oh no, the government came to their rescue
bailed them out with buckets of money
filled the holes in the bottoms of their steamships

but not you and me,
not 'the people'
our canoes stay tipsy

but 'the money'?
save the money!
the people will fend for themselves.

and we will.

damn the bank
damn bush
damn money

all speculation
no reparations
no consequences
all jumpin fences

what foolishness...
wait, how'd we get into this mess?

wrong question -
more important,
who got us into this mess?

why, the bank -
then why'd they get bailed out?

and why not the people?
why not you and me?
what did we do to deserve this frenzy
spinning out of our control
driving us from our homes
wreaking havoc on our economy
but we don't figure in the rescue plan -
cause the government prefers to save the bank
how?

to buy back their debt with taxpayers money.
our money
the people's money.

fine then,
take our money
but at least give us a say

cos, the banks are the ones that got us here in the first place -
these times show they can't be trusted with our money,
nor the rates.

so give us a say
c'mon give us a say
i say -

give us a SAY!

troy davis died on death row last night,

if you think the unjust prosecution and manipulation of witness testimony in order to kill an innocent black man cannot happen in 2008,

think again.