Drop It Like It's Hot

In a recent taping for the White Gold Documentary, I asserted that the Mississippi is the alimentary canal for the US. I didn't go any farther than that (nor am I necessarily qualified to), but I do think there's something to it. That would make New Orleans the shit. Given that it has unusually high incidences of genius musicians, rump shaking and drug and alcohol use, I think there's something to this. Just like you'd be missing something if you didn't consider the Midwest as the heartland.

Where else do they celebrate death (and that is just as easily positive--witness the funeral parades--as nihilistic)? I can almost see the graveyards and the wrought iron even though I've never been there. From what I hear people steal the iron ornaments from the graveyards and sell them to antique stores.

For the US, New Orleans' hurricane was loaded with our shit. The government was slow to move. A lot of people, though warned, didn't move. In the aftermath, people rose to the occasion and sank to unbelievable lows.

And you can't talk about shit in the US without talking about race. In a sense, that's our shit. And there is an unmistakable butt component to race in this country. Shake your Rump-aa! She's got a flat butt. He's a hard ass. She doesn't know shit. They don't know where their own asshole is. It's where sex and knowledge and sense of self merge with the dirtiest dirt. It's about music and art and enjoyment and taking a load off.

My friend John Logic told me once that sitting on money is consitpation. That money is only good when in motion. That would make it like energy, I suppose, and water, and nutrient's. John runs his store, The Snowboard Connection (in Seattle), like an extended Italian family. Like he saw his grandfather Frank do at an Italian social club in California. He keeps the flow moving.

I firmly believe that globally, us capable, talented, white folks are going to have to get off the pot and start getting into what it was that we wanted money for all those/these years if we don't want to see more New Orleanses, more Frances, more Iraqs. Cause we constipated as a motherfucker. It's not enough to not do harm, or work on saving other people the motivation for not only a lot of non-profits but also Iraq, you'll notice). That may be a bit part of it, but getting up off the top of the unhappy (and massively efficient) economy we've created and going about our business will alleviate more downward global pressure than all the social programs in China. Let go. Have some faith. It's get off our constipated butts peacefully or spend an awful lot of energy dealing with the results (and pretending we're suprised). We can't not grow and expect the loving, growing, hungry folks around the world to just hang out while we provide goods and services more and more efficiently. Especially when we don't even want to.

For me, sitting primarily in the basement of my mom's house (and fixing up the basement of her other house)--getting into butt-ness--this year has been about learning how to both give and let go. It's also been about learning how to stand my ground and assert myself, but the less obvious, and possibly more challenging lessons have been about how to give without expectation of return. Just because I want to. Because I have extra. Because that's what my Franks did for me.

I'm pretty much a giver, so this surprised me. I kind of thought my bigger lessons were about how to assert myself. How to be myself in the face of disbelief, hostility, and opposition (and I have learned a lot of this--cause I used to be really nice). How to bark.

It was one thing to give what I thought I should. Or to some PC cause. Or where I was expected to. But this year was about giving exactly what I wanted to. When I wasn't sure. When I didn't know if anything would come of it. Putting everything I had on the line (again and again) to make exactly what I want to see in the world. Giving to myself and taking radical chances on others I may not have even deemed worthy. Without much faith that it would even work.

It's kind of relaxing.

What I am seeing is that I often expect some sort of compliance for what I give. That I expect some sort of fealty. Some sort of compliance or self-policing. Not anything overt, but powerful nonetheless. I want results. Control. Something to happen. I want to feel safe. THIS IS CONDITIONAL LOVE. And I think it has something to do with my ass.

I have sort of a bubble butt. Not big but it works for me. As I've been working out for the last few years I've been specifically working my consciousness down out of my head, past my shoulders and towards my butt. Not my whole consciousness, I still think and all that, but I wanted my gut and legs and sides to have their fair share (they were severely under-represented). They say the gut is another brain. And where I'm going I know I don't have time to think everything out. I want the immediacy that my gut brings. And the certainty.

But I never really thought about where it would go after my gut. It kept going. Down into my butt, my groin, and even spending more time in my ankles. As the saying goes: "This shit is deep."

With parts of my body chiming energetically in after years and years of relative silence, I've started to realize that our geographic and ethnic history is embodied in our bodies, and our geography, and our world. That who we are is no different that what, or how, we are. And not even distinct from how we look.

Upon hearing this, a lot of people respond instinctively that it's discrimination (even if they can't name their mistrust of what I'm saying). But I'm not saying that we can necessarily tell who someone is from how they look, just that who someone is cannot be separate from how they look. And that how they look is about as malleable as who they are. Which is considerable.

My minor point is: expect to look better, smell better, fuck better and be more appealing as you move toward greater and greater enlightenment. In a sense, it's all the same thing. This doesn't mean dress size is correlated directly to any kind of spiritual knowledge, it obviously is not. But look closely. Look for what's really attractive. Not just rare (cause that doesn't mean shit), or unattainable (ditto), or in fashion, but really, really attractive to you. Past your desire to bee cool, hip, accepted, gain the power of the ruling class/beautiful people.

I know this smacks in the face of PC, postmodernism, and even in a sense the Judeo-Christian world (as if those things were distinct). But those shits haven't saved us yet. And they've had 2006 years. There must be more to it that being nice and liberal. (Two things which I most likely am).

My larger point is that this is not only going on individually, but socially, racially, economically, spiritually, nationally, and internationally. If you belong to a larger group (and we all do), take responsibility for their shortcomings as well as holding tight to their strengths. Not superficially or stereotypically, but be aware. (And for some folks--hold tight to your strengths as well as taking responsibility for your shortcomings. The trick is a balance.

Back to the point at hand, I can feel it in my butt. Something about giving. I can feel it in my gut that Katrina had something to do with this nationally. It both exposed us (white America, privileged America, however you want to slice it) and provided the opportunity for us to transcend our fears. (and a lot of people out-did themselves giving to alleviate distress and need). I'm not sure I'd say it, but I think it may have afforded a similar stock-taking for black or less-privileged America. I'm not the one to go into it, but it sure seems like a lot of folks who had basically given up got a new start on life.

(A great movie about this, Nights of Caberia, was explained to me by a very intelligent black man in terms of black angels--who do what you want but not necessarily how. It's Fellini. And great by the way.)

But that's kind of just the run up. I don't want to have any fear of giving because I don't want to be responsible. My people have been so responsible for so long that it's giving us strokes. And bands called The Strokes. I'm too tired to be responsible for anyone other than myself. That's why I cling so fervently to inspiration as the prime mover rather than motivation. Do what the hell you want. I'll show you love and respect by doing exactly the same.

Your right side is your male side. And the one in charge of control. Your left side is your female side, and the one in charge of support (you'll notice both your heart and stomach prefer it). If you get an injury on one side, try to read it this way. I had/ve a left hip injury for years. Right in front of where I keep my wallet. And've been dependent upon the financial graces of my mother (and in a larger sense, my family and people) for my well-being and ability to do my work for years. I could go deeper into the specifics--sexual and relationshipal--but that should be enough to pique your interest.

When I give and expect something, just like when I think I know a situation and stand in judgment or someone or thing, I am making myself responsible for what's going on. A great trait when it affects me. But much less enjoyable when it is about someone else. I don't know where this fear of losing control came from, but it has fed us in harsh climates for many, many years. The same thing happens when I prejudge a situation and limit what and how I want to give before hand based on my own information. All of which are ways I keep from expressing vulnerability. Which, of course, makes love more rare than it needs to be in my life. The first state is one of control--of being a master. The second is of being a victim--of being a slave. They both have the effect of unhappiness and a sense of powerlessness--one a spiritual/cultural powerlessness (and an inability to truly enjoy the riches of the self), and the other a material/economic powerlessness, and an inability to enjoy the riches of this world.

White folks and black folks are entwined in some shit that is deep. But it's also holds many of the world's riches. At this point in history, I'd argue that we all have white and black representatives inside us. The way forward, the way out, and we enjoy it immediately every time we do what we really want without regard to either responsibility or circumstance, I would suggest, is for both sides to get ruthless about the part of themselves they really do want to hold onto--cause we all have great strengths--and really relax and work to drop the stuff we don't--our weaknesses. When we're ourselves in each other's presence, when we're friends, when we're lovers (Rosario e-mail me)--the rewards are deep. Radically, radically deep. Just like when you feel something from the bottom to the top.

Now get out there and back that azz up!