Story Archives 2010

What Homefulness Means to Me

An elder is supposed to be a guide to the children and a mentor to the rest of the community.  I can’t assume eldership where I live.  I am getting tired of living in a place where I’m getting discriminated against for being old.  I live in a ghetto of elders.  In the ghetto of elders we are all the same age.  No younger people.  No children.  No contact with anybody younger unless I go to the bar or to Poor Magazine.  But going to the bar can be dangerous. 

Children need their elders.  They need their elders to know their history and to learn the customs of their culture.  They also need us to learn how to survive.  If children don’t get to talk to their elders, they will only know the mythologies that their history books and tvs and computer’s tell them. 

Hopefulness is a great way for children and adults and elders to form a perfect community where the village can teach each other.  This is where family replaces bureaucracy.  Hopefulness will be good for an elder because I will be able to teach children.  I can help the adults take care of the children and teach them the real history and the real customs of our cultures.  I want to talk to them like adults without using colloquial censorship like they learn without their elders.  I will be able to take my place as an elder and a recorder of history.  And I will be able to live this purpose everyday when hopefulness comes true.  

            In the wake of endless corporate media reports on whether or not climate change is real and how many polar ice caps are melting, a 48-page classified report created by Homeland Security was released last year at a special house subcommittee hearing chaired by Representative Anna Eschu on the "security impact of global climate change."

This briefing confirmed what many of us poor people already suspected: climate change is likely to result in the ratcheting up of a police state to “control” us, the crowded masses, as we riot for food, water, and land.

It’s no mystery, what will happen to our poor in a future crisis. Look at what’s already happened to low-income communities in the past. From Haiti to New Orleans—in extreme cold, we have frozen to death; in extreme heat and drought, we’ve died of thirst, hunger, and exposure—with no more crops, livestock, or land.

A forecast of the what’s to come can be seen in Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s infamous jail for immigrants. “Poor people have been dying of thirst with no access to water or air conditioning in the heat,” reports Michael Woodard, poverty scholar and Poor News Network correspondent.

In essence, that’s the risk that climate change poses. Poor people can’t just move to higher ground, purchase imported foods, or upgrade their roofing, windows, and foundation to keep from being displaced by the next hurricane.

“We are forced to live in poor neighborhoods near poisonous industries that already are killing us. If you add increased heat and decrease of land to the sick soup—we wont last long in a global warming reality,” says Ingrid De Leon, with Voces de Immigrantes en Resistencia.

The surprising thing is, we already know a lot about how to reorganize our economies for moving from “surviving” to “thriving.” Indigenous and poor people have long known that sharing resources with each other, practicing interdependence, and building real community are the best route to independence.

POOR is an indigenous and poor people-led organization of revolutionary poets, artmakers, multimedia producers, educators, and poverty scholars (as we call ourselves) who see the urgent need to be producing and educating so we can stop being talked about, researched, reported on, criminalized, and legislated against.

We have launched an equity campaign for a project we call “homefulness,” a sweat-equity cohousing model for landless families, which includes a community garden for localizing and producing our own healthy food, and several micro-business projects to build sustainable economic support for all of us. So far we have established a social justice and arts café, a family-friendly project-based school, and a community media teaching and production center.

My mother, Mama Dee as she was called, died from complications of her smog-related asthma and heart condition. As I was growing up she and I talked constantly about how to get away from the poisonous environments where we were forced to live—near power plants, freeways, and factories. In the end, Mama Dee succumbed to the illnesses our poverty caused. But her spirit of resistance lives on in our community and in the mobilizations to work for climate justice across the planet.

English follows...

Yo, Muteado Silencio, me considero un indigena de lo que es ahora Michoacan
Mexico, pero en un momento la tribu purepecha rondaba esas tierras. En estos momentos soy un inmigrante que fue desplazado con su familia del estado de Michoacan por el capitalismo, como NAFTA, CAFTA, por la falta de trabajo en Michoacan y porque mi madre sufria de violencia domestica.

Mi espiritu revolucionario no se lo debo a un libro o una institucion que me
enseño a pensar, si no al coyote que conocien el monte y a la gente que carga con su
propio morral, y a la hora de la hora soy conciente que la gente que va a luchar es la gente que no tiene nada que perder y no le teme a la muerte...

Por estas razones tuvimos que cruzar la frontera a Los Estados Unidos para huir de nuestras opresiones.

Cuando llegamos era muy dificil para mi en la escuela donde iba en mi clase casinadien hablaba en ingles y los que hablaban español no me querian hablar por verguenza que los otros niños tambien les hicieran burla. Al final de poco a poquito aprendi.

Cuando entre a la middle school fue dificil por que yo vivia en un barrio donde habia muchas pandillas, siempre estaba pasando algo. Una vez en esa escuela hubo una pelea entre Latinos y Afroamericanos yo no participe, porque tenia amigos en las dos pandillas. En otra occasion veniamos de salir de la escuela un grupo de amigos y en enfrente venia otro grupo de gente que sabiamos que heran padilleros, en eso dos carros separon cerca del grupo que ba enfrente y los empiezan a golpear yo alcanze aver como una de las personas le quebra una botella en la cabeza a unos de los del grupo de enfrente. La cosas se estaban poniendo peligrosas.

En otra occasion veniamos de una conferecia de diferentes escuelas publicas
sobre no ser parte de pandillas, cuando veniamos de regreso a nuestra casa yo
mi hermana y mi sobrino veniamos platicando, cuando de repente ami me dieron
un golpe la cara y me tunbaron, mi sobrino empezo a peliar con ellos, pero los
padilleros corrieron al otro lado de la carretera, donde habia otro grupo de cholos en una van Dodge cuando veimos esto empezamos a corer pidiendo ayuda. Corrimos por la calle y nos metimos a casa que estaban vacias, el miedo de saber que no venian persiguiendo un grupo de cholos, en eso en una esquina como un angel de la guardia una señora se paro para ofrecernos ayuda, nos subimos al carro de la señora venia con sus hijos y nos dio un ride ala casa.

Asi llegue a Skyline una escuela en las montañas de Oakland, la escuela estaba
bonita, de vez en cuando habia peleas, y ami sorpresa tambien habia pandillas,
aunque eso fue lo de menos.

“Los Indigenas heran unos salvajes y los Europeos les trajimos Civilizacion”

Mi maestra de Historia decia, de su boca salia, me acuerdo las descusiones, cuando
levantaba mi mano para dar una opinion sobre como los Indigenas de las Americas
tenian civilizaciones antes que los colonizadores llegaran, y miraba su cara de odio
contra mi, muchas veces me saco de la clase por opinar estas cosas o me mandaba
ala oficina.

Esto paso mas de una vez, en la clase de historia nunca agarre mas arriba que
una D-, y celebraba porque no hera una F, esto queria decir que podria jugar en
el equipo de futbol, que hera lo unico que me importaba de la escuela oh y las
muchachas.

As me sacaron de la escuela, y porque cumpli 18 años en grado 12th y me dijieron
que tenia que terminar mis creditos en una escuela de adultos. Estaba cansado de
las escuelas y de que todo el mundo me dijiera que hacer asi que no regrese ala
escuela por el truma durante mis años escolares.

Vengo de una familia, una comunidad, pueblo y identidad todos quebradas.  Cuando pienso en Homefulness pienso en familia, comunidad, un pueblo fuerte.  Un lugar en donde sabemos quienes somos y adonde vamos, una cosa que yo tambien me pregunto.

Comparo Homefulness a Chiapas, Bolivia, Poor Magazine, Gente Indigena,
gente de color, multi-generacion, multi- origen etnico, autonomia, sin jerarquia accountable rendicion de cuentas uno mismo, horizontales, un lugar en donde puedes ser tu mismo, un lugar comunal en donde todos trabajen y comparten con igualidad dependiendo en la capacidad.

Ingles sigue...

I Muteado Silencio consider myself and indigenous person to what is now Michoacan, Mexico.  At one point the Michoacan peoples haunted these lands.  In these moments I am an immigrant that was displaced with his family from Michoacan because of Capitalism, like NAFTA and CAFTA, and because of lack of jobs in Michoacan and lastly because my mother was suffering due to domestic violence.

My revolutionary spirit I do not owe to a book or an institution that taught me to think, rather a coyote that I met on the mountain and the people that walked carrying their own bags, and in the hour of the hour I and concious that the people that are going to fight are the ones that don't have anything to lose and that don't fear death.

For these reasons we had to cross the border to the United States, to run from our oppressions.

When we arrive I had a very difficult time in school because english was mainly spoken in class and the kids that spoke spanish didn't want to talk to me because they were embarrassed that other kids would make fun of them too.  In the end little by little I learned.

When I entered middle school it was also difficult for me because I lived in a neighborhood where there were a lot of gangs, I was always passing something.  One time in that school there was fight between the Latinos and the African Americans, I didn't participate because I had friends in both of the gangs.
Another time a group of us friends were getting out of school and right in front came walking another groups of kids that we knew to be gangsters.  Two cars pulled up in front of the group of kids and they started to beat them up.  I watched as a bottle was broken over someone's head.  Things were getting worse.

On an another occasion, we went to a conference with other public schools as a group that were not in gangs.  When we got home I was talking with my sister and cousin when some gangsters came up and hit me in the face and they knocked me down. My cousin started fighting back but they ran across the street where another group of cholos where waiting in a van. When we saw this we ran to call for help.  We ran through the streets and into a home that was vacant.  Once we were sure that they weren't following us we crept out and on the corner we were met with an guardian angel, a woman that stopped to offer us help. We got in her car with her kids and she gave us a ride home.

I then went to Skyline, a school in the Oakland hills.  The school was beautiful, and once in a while there were fights and to my surprise there were gangs but these were very minimal.

"The Indigenous were savages and the Europeans brought them civilization"

My history teacher said this, these words came out of her mouth. I remember the conversations when I raised my hand to give my opinion about the Indigenous peoples of the Americas.  I talked about how they had civilizations before the colonizers came.  I looked at my teacher face and the hate that she had for me, a lot of times I was sent to the office for voice my opinion about these topics.

This happened more than once and in History class I never got more than a D- and I celebrated because it wasn't an F, this meant that I could still be on the soccer team, the only thing that was important to me at school, oh and the girls.

That is how I was taken out of school and that I was 18 and in the 12th grade and they told me that I had to finish my credits at a adult school.  I was tired of school where the whole world was telling me what to do. One reason I never went back was because of all the trauma that I experienced.

I come from a broken family, community, village, and identity.  When I think about
homefullness I think about Family, Community, a strong Village, and knowing who
we are and where we going, which I ask my self sometimes.

Homefullness I compare to Chiapas, Bolivia, Poor Magazine, Gente Indigena,
people of color, Multi-generational, Multi- ethnicity, Autonomy, Non- hierarchy,
self accountablility, Horizontal, a place where you can be yourself without fronting,
a communal place where we all work and share equally, depending on your
ability...fairness.

A place built on autonomy, where privileged people and colonized people dis-
program ourselves to built a better society and a sustanible community.

What Homefulness means to me

....A place of safety, refuge, sanity, and quiet contemplation.

Not Always fear-near the-1st of the month a place where I can invite

guests to stay as long as I choose.

No Housing Authority visits, Exterminator visits.
When Ill or away unable to clean up, missing appointments
causing automatic possible loss of housing.

No worries of danger to my guest(s) when visiting because
other home dwellers have no bounderies, filters if they chose
to engage or accost new comers to my one room apartment.

 Free of rent hikes, faulty plumbing, electrical systems or
flooding from leaking roofs.

After so many Krip-Hop workshops, playing songs from non-disabled Hip-Hop artists ripping people with disabilities down, making up disabled dances, using outdated terms, getting rich by playing disabled characters on the big screen all of this without even asking us and not having at least one well known disabled Hip-Hop artist to speak, sing anything politically correct talking about this pimping, I had to remix my track, Hip-Hop Hear This with some samples that dis us with Krip-Hop political lyrics. Stay tune to hear this track. I'll play the song in the UK when Krip-Hop/MWD attend DADA Festival Nov 21-28th in Liverpool, UK. I did this song at home on my laptop but would love to get in the studio to do it right! Might play it on a local radio show you never know.

Krip-Hop Speaking Back!

Leroy Moore

Yeah Peeps,

How is everybody?  I know its been a long time since Krip-Hop Nation has wrote something but things has been popping in the last two to three months.  On top of the events, travels and music making that I'll soon share with you, I've been racially/disabled profiled.  So lets get into it.

In case if you are new to Krip-Hop Nation, Krip-Hop Nation Mission is to educate the music, media industries and general public about the talents, history, rights and marketability of Hip-Hop artists and other musicians with disabilities.  Krip-Hop main objective is to get the musical talents of hip-hop artists with disabilities into the hands of media outlets, educators, and hip-hop, disabled and race scholars, youth, journalists and hip-hop conference coordinators.

Now in the last two months Krip-Hop Nation has been on the road off and on doing shows, events and lectures. Just like everything else these events were planned out through the year.

 The first one was at Georgia State University in Atlanta on October 13^th called The Hottest Krips in Hip-Hop, with a panel, films, performances and an award ceremony for the Late Joe Capers who was a music producer and musician.  His extensive resume includes production of Tony! Toni! Tone!'s 1988 Gold album Who?, work with the Digital Underground, En Vogue and many others.  He was blind.  The whole event was sponsored by the Center for Leadership in Disability at Georgia State University, the Satcher Health Leadership Institute of Morehouse School of Medicine, IMPACT of Georgia State University and the Office of African American Student Services and Programs at Georgia State University.  I would like to thank all the performers, panelists,  the M, the Capers’ family Bethany Stevens and all of her co/workers and volunteers that made this event so great.

Some outstanding highlights of The Hottest Krips in Hip-Hop was the award ceremony honoring the work and life of the late Joe Capers, seeing his family on stage accepting the award and viewing what his family and Bethany put together as a PowerPoint with so many pictures of Joe with his friends and family with his music was a treat.  I even had a chance to interview the family on video thanks to W.C. Hairs and his company who was there video tapping the whole event.  However there were so many great moments of that event like meeting Hip-Hop artist/author who is newly disabled, Toni Hickman.  It’s always a blast to hang out with old friends like Keith Jones and Bethany Stevens.  Seeing Krip-Hop artists perform on one stage makes me proud.  So excited that the Joe Capers Revolutionary Media Award will go on for others to receive it.  We are talking to see if it’s going to be annually or bi annually but for one thing it will go on.  Weeeeeeeeee Joe Capers live on!

After ATL Krip-Hop Nation was off to New York City for the Diversifying Hip-Hop: Krip-Hop Homo-Hop on the campus of New York University. Tovah E Leibowitz of NYU who coordinate the NYU Pride Month saw  the internet buzz around the 2009 the Diversifying Hip-Hop: Krip-Hop Homo-Hop at U.C. Berkeley and offered to bring it to the campus of NYU.  We worked on organizing the event through phone calls and emails throughout the year.  Once again I like to thank all the artists/panelists and tech peeps like "Sue-Elise" Peebles.  Oh my God, the panel was a mixture of politics some shocking and others trying to bring the two group together.  Every time I do this event the panel is the big cheese for more so it keeps on changing.  The performer tore down the roof of NYU and the films made people think.  It was hot to help bring Diversifying Hip-Hop: Krip-Hop Homo-Hop to NYC.   These events really taught me as the holder of the politics and vision of Krip-Hop Nation that I need to do more writing more explaining on what Krip-Hop Nation really is. 

I had an opportunity to lecture at CUNNY on Statesisland NY in Terry Rowden’s class.  Mr. Rowden is a professor and author of The Songs of Blind Folk
African American Musicians and the Cultures of Blindness on Krip-Hop Nation.  Terry and I are planning to write the Krip-Hop book together.  Like in all of my Krip-Hop lectures/workshop I have the artists do most of the talking through audio/video interviews.   It seems like the students liked it.  The last lecture was at another CUNNY campus but this time in the heart of NYC but it was on a topic I used to be involved in a lot, police brutality and other violence against people of color with disabilities.  The way I opened the space with the poem I Can’t Rest (Tiny of Poor Magazine ideal) put the students on their toes.  It was a great conversation.

Now being back home in the San Francisco Bay getting ready to bring Krip-Hop Nation with Mcees With Disabilities, MWD I look back for a minute and realize that I have to do some more a lot more writing, explaining and talking on the politics, history and vision of Krip-Hop Nation.  The good and bad thing of what I’ve been doing with Krip-Hop Nation is that it is out there & that is the bad thing too because at this time it is out there with few political/historical written framework and….

Today is November 5^th 2010 and Krip-Hop Nation is packing up again but this time it’s not in the US but for the UK.  Krip-Hop Nation was approached by Garry Robinson of one of the biggest disability arts festival in the UK, DADA Festival in 2009. visit www.dadafest2010.co.uk.   Robinson, Artistic Director last year commissioned Krip-Hop Nation to bring Mcees With Disabilities, an international project under Krip-Hop Nation to DADA Festival in Liverpool, UK on November 18-29^th.  For the first time six members of MWD, Lady MJ of the UK, Binkiwoi of Germany, Ronnie of Africa, DJ Dave of Germany, DJ Gezzer of UK and I of US will meet each other face to face and perform together on stage.  Also  there will be a Krip-Hop DJ Workshop, a Network session, a panel and more.  Leroy will also be on a panel talking about Sins Invalid, www.sinsinvalid.org  and talking about Disability Studies.  Please check out dates, venues and times at www.dadafest2010.co.uk.

On top of all of that with the good comes the bad!  In the last two months I was racially/disabled profiled in the San Francisco Bay Area and in New York.  My friend, Keith Jones who is also Black and disabled was racially/disabled profiled while in ATL attending the Hottest Krips in Hip-Hop event.  I have written poems and detail statement about these profilings.  Look below for what happen in NY to me.  Keith and I are talking about doing a song/poem about what happened to us.  I hope this kind of attitude don’t follow me to Liverpool, UK!  We will see. 

 You are Making Us Nervous!" Profiled Again This Time In NY

Just minding my business but do I have any business as a Black disabled man?  In New York City just finished a successful Hip-Hop event bringing disabled and queer Hip-Hop artists together and visiting film makers.  You know just doing my thing.  I stopped to get my lady and nephews something then BOOM!

A White lady (employee of the book store) walked over and starred me up and down.  Minding my own business looking at books laughing thinking that Darla would love the funny twisted book.  I put down the book to realize the store security guard in front of me.  The lady and security guard stares felt like something felt before you see I was Disabled Profiled twice in the San Francisco's Bay Area but what came out of his mouth (the security guard) made me chuckle inside.  He said, "Sir you are making us nervous, what's under your jacket!"  The chuckles stopped and my mind shouted "not again!"  So I unzipped my jacket to show them my leather pouch .  "Oh sorry sorry!", barked the security guard.   As I looked up I noticed a Black face with a NYPD uniform on joined the group. 

Yes cross country profiling from San Francisco to New York don't matter where you are big city small town can't escape my identity but I don't want to.  Knowing there is no melting pot but somebody turned up the heat with more racial/disabled profiling following me from city to city.  What to do?  Can't bring this hate back home. 

In ATL it was disabled profiling throw in class now everything is a mess.  Humanity is failing the test but this is life so I'll go on surviving with open wounds.  I have to laugh to keep from going insane and I won't go away although it get harder day by day.  As I get older I get more and more tiered.  However love ones continue to pick me up and dust me off reminding me how much they care. 

Walking the streets of Harlem, NY. leaving behind what just happened heading towards a supporting loving nest  for the night cause tomorrow is another day.

By Leroy Moore Jr.

Letter to Tim Lincecum’s Mother (Nanay)

By Revolutionary Worker Scholar

The speed of light

Is a vision

That looks right

Back at you

--Tiburcio Garcia-Gray

Dear Mrs. Lincecum:

We in San Francisco are very proud of your son for his hard work and spirit in helping bring the World Series title to the people of our city and to the entire Bay Area. The Filipino Community is proud of Tim not only for his excellence as a pitcher but for his humility and the graceful manner in which he has carried himself. Many words have been used describe your son—"The Freak", "The Franchise". Awards have been bestowed upon him—the Cy Young Award (twice) among others. There are many other adjectives that can be used to describe your son and the things he has and is yet to accomplish. Rather than use words that have already been said, let me just say that we are very proud of your anak, your son.

I read that your family is from Stockton, your family’s roots go back to Hawaii and Mindanao and Cebu. Much of this information is not known or written about, but to our community it is just as important as World Series titles. As you probably know, the connection between San Francisco and Stockton is deep in the history of our people. It is well known that Tim’s father taught him the mechanics of pitching, laying the foundation that would see him achieve greatness in baseball—unprecedented for a player of such a young age. He was told by major league scouts that he was too small to succeed but he overcame it and rose to be the best practitioner of his craft. Watching him pitch is a thing of beauty—the twist of the waist, the dip of the shoulders, the release. It is as if the movement of the Filipino workers of Hawaii—the Sakadas—who live in your son’s bones, is the wind pushing him forward in his dance on the pitcher’s mound. We dance with him and he dances in our minds.

I work as a volunteer at the Manilatown Heritage Foundation. The foundation works to preserve the memory of the manongs who fought their eviction from the International Hotel in 1977. As I sat helping elderly Filipino residents of San Francisco’s South of Market District complete affordable housing applications, the radio was tuned to a Giant’s game. It was towards the end of the season and the Giants were playing a pair of games with the San Diego Padres. The atmosphere in the office was alive. Let’s go Timmy! My officemates cried while working to find our manongs (elders) a decent place to live.

A professor recently wrote that Tim Lincecum’s family background is very much the story of Filipino American history. From migration to Hawaii as part of a generation of Sakadas—young workers recruited to toil on Hawaii’s sugar plantations—to Stockton where a once thriving Filipinotown is being reborn through the work of young activists who refuse to let it be erased from memory—your son’s achievement is a part of our achievement and struggle as a community in this country.

Again Mrs. Lincecum, thank you for all the time and effort you gave that has not been written about. I think of how Tim spoke of his Lolo (Grandfather) Balleriano, who passed away in 2007. He was having trouble in a game because his Grandfather’s passing lay heavy on his mind. He said that he looked to God and to the past and to relatives that have passed on for strength and guidance. To me, that said more about your son than any World Series title. It means more.

© 2010 Revolutionary Worker Scholar

Bird on a wire: A raven speaks out on the blue angels and other things

By Revolutionary Worker Scholar

Note: I was lucky to encounter the raven after many weeks of trying. I endured its laughter while trying to coax it from its wire with breadcrumbs. After 2 weeks of this, the raven finally granted me a much-coveted interview about the Blue Angels.

Q: What do you think of the blue angels?

A: I don’t stay up nights thinking about them

Q: Why not?

A: They don’t show me nothing. They’re gentrifying the sky. They want to convince people that they’ve been up there forever. Hell, I’ve been flying before those guys were in diapers. They make too much noise up there, dipping and diving and maneuvering. They’re basically showing their asses. They’re knocking themselves out trying to do what I do naturally…things I can do with my eyes closed. They’ve poured a lot of money into those wings but those wings ain’t as beautiful as my wings.

Q: You think so?

A: What kind of question is that? You sure you ain’t C.W. Nevius? Of course I think so. There are many people out there that agree with me.

Q: Who are they?

A: The people in the neighborhoods

Q: Which neighborhoods?

A: The TL…Bayview, Fillmore, some parts of the Mission. They look at my wings and they say, man…now those are some wings. Sometimes they just watch me and hum a little tune and on that tune, I fly higher. It’s hard to explain. But the blue angels ain’t really blue, you know? Do they really know the blues? If they did they’d be down here and not making all that noise. I can’t hear my jazz when they’re up there. But some of these crowds really eat it up.

Q: I sense some hostility on your part towards the blue angels

A: You’re perceptive

Q: Where do you spend most of your time?

A: Ocean Beach lately. I’m always on the lookout for food. All the stuff I get are scraps that are loaded down with sodium and fat. My blood pressure is soaring. But sometimes I get something good, like that whale that washed up a few weeks ago. That was good. It held me over for a few days. I get good stuff out here.

Q: What’s in store for you?

A: To hang loose and go with the flow. To share my laughter up there on those wires. Humanity is a laugh, you know?

Q: Any last words for our audience

A: Well, you know, fleet week, they make a big display of it. Anyway, I flew out there just to check it out. The folks were walking around in knit sport shirts and dockers. Jeeze…won’t someone tell those guys what their shirt sizes are? Nothing but gut and more gut. One of ‘em threw me a pizza crust so I guess he was ok. But still, you’ll never catch me dead in one of those awful shirts. I flew around the ships and I saw all those guys in military uniforms just looking into the sky. I thought they were possibly looking at the clouds or at my brethren. I hovered closely then landed on a nearby plank. I looked at one of the uniformed guys. His nametag read: Breedlove.

Q: Did he give you any?

A: Any what?

Q: Love

A: Are you kidding? He was breeding something but it sure wasn’t love. I laughed that mocking laugh of mine and he flicked a cigarette butt at me. I took off into the air but it was being invaded by the blue angels, scraping across the sky, my sky. But their wings still ain’t as beautiful as mine. Don’t you agree?