Before I went to sleep I wrote remind me when I wake up to tell you what I want to tell you now so here it is. (It may be best to skip to the last paragraph before you read the whole thing, see the light before walking through the tunnel kind of thing) I had a pretty horrible week last week, full of bad news at every turn, trust broken, despair. It looked like I would have to leave Rhode Island to find work, which means there was a chance I would not have been coming back. The funny thing, that with bad news, there was also good, just nothing that translated for a reason to stay. My set of challenges drastically changed. An area in life where I was dominant shrank because of the growth and hard work of other artist in my field, and though I may be looked at as a big fish, there are a lot more big fish in my little pond than there was when I first moved here. And I am not going to sugar coat this next statement. Local restaurants are doing one of two things. Not hiring people of color for the front of the house. And I am only speaking by what I see and the fact that I went on many interviews and was told perfect, now you just have to meet the manager and... And I never met the manager. I did meet the hiring manager at that newer Irish spot at the bottom of college hill, he specifically put a emphasis on the word girls when he told me he already hired girls for the position. Hemingways, I found out, didnt like my hair. And my present non employer, I found out that the Chefs loved me, most people thought and vocalized me being strong as a bar tender and server, but it was leaked to me that the owner just doesnt want to give me hours. So last week I felt defeated. So I made a plan to move to Hartford Conn on the first of April just so I could find work. Fact is, I stop performing locally because the pay does not reflect talent. People tend to expect me to work for free, by work I mean perform. If not free, then they dictate my pay rate as in we can give you $50.00 for 20 minutes? NO, actually, you cant. And there were times where I felt trivial, like it really doesnt matter the poet, as long as its a poet, Christopher Johnson or that guy over there who just started performing yesterday, give them a couple of dollars and they should be thankful. So I wanted to take a page from any book of the number of writers I like. Kerouac, low key travel and adventure, Bukowski, regular working joe, Hemingway, disappear and comeback with some new genius for the world to fawn over. But the thing most peculiar is I lost my way. Back in December I went to Vipassana Meditation Center for 28 days. While there I got hit with a sense of purpose, a mission. I found relevance in my existence beyond what I thought I was supposed to be. I like to bar tend. I can wait tables but who cant? (actually there a couple of servers I have run into that should never deal with any kind of customer service). When I think about my past, there isnt two much outside of brain surgery or pilot a rocket ship that I couldnt enjoy doing, if I wanted to do it. But at the meditation center, I realized simply enjoying what I do is kind of mindless for a person like me. I am passion driven. I like to be spiritually feed (or joyously depleted) by the things I do. I decided that I only wanted to be on stage, or in the classroom. The rest of those jobs were just jobs and as long as I sacrificed doing things to just pay the bills to get by then I would continuously be doing just that. I dont have to tell you this, but I am sharing because someone will read this and get it. for the last three months, all my bills have been paid off of art. So if you have tried to text me, or call me, you now know why I have no phone. I had to simplify. Rent, food, kids. I am not complaining. I never got on facebook and complained that that this living thing is too hard so eff being an artist. While I was at Vipassana I realized the happiest points in my working life was when I was touring every ten days, for three years of my life. I realized thats when I made the most money, I stopped because I was missing seeing my kids grow up. The gigs didnt stop. The offers didnt stop coming. I just woke up one day with my daughters in my bed and decided I would stay home. that was four years ago, before the economy went totally to the toilet. At Vipassana I realized I deserve to be that happy again, and my should deserves to be fed, and Providence is not the type of city where happiness comes easy, it is 100% DIY and happiness is not the destination, its the journey (God can I get more cliche, but its true). And so I had a plan. As220 asked me to perform in a there fundraiser that took place yesterday. When I first met with Umberto and Shey Riv, I thought I would be writing a poem specifically for them. And then they picked a poem for me to perform. People who know me know I am not fond of being told what to do, but this is As220, This is Bert, so yes, I can put my ego to the side and perform what they ask. People who know me have probably heard me say I dont write the poems, they just come and most times I dont know what they mean until after performing them for a years, and one day, I will be on stage, and as the words are leaving my mouth, the understanding is smacking me in the head right in front of everyone, and no one will know whats going on. That was last night. The poem was Million Dollar Baby. A piece that I liked simply because outside of a couple of movie quotes, every word happened to me, or I experienced it vicariously. Let me explain. I wrote that poem after the 2005 national poetry slam where I represented Providence. The first team I was ever banned from. I never felt so alienated and so token black before in my life. I had just went through a break with my daughters mom, and was sitting in the audience at the finals stage listening to poets when I felt inspired by each story. The last night in Albuquerque, my team stayed Slam legend Danny Soliss place. The other three members of my team all fit in his bed and I dont think I slept that night but began writing that poem. I remember looking at them all cuddled and realized, there was no room for me in that bed, even if I wanted to fit in, They were not making space for me. So I wanted to write about what made me different. MY story. My fight. And of course the movie Million dollar baby had dropped the year before so I wanted to relate slam to boxing. So last night I am performing the poem and I was getting bopped in the head from all angles on the meaning of the poem.These stories, these words of hardship and triumph, and self expression, how can I give up on something I am so passionate about just because things get hard? Because I feel I dont fit in, I am going to up and leave? I cant. Happiness is the journey, and if there is no room for me in the bed, then dont sleep, write a poem. Thats what separates me from them and is my story. These words of mine are a million dollar baby and like children, they are to be nurtured and shared. I cant realized my passion is on stage and in the classroom then complain I cant get a job as a bar tender or server. Kimberly MissKim Andrade told me that. So there it is. I would like to thank AS220 for the opportunity for growth. Everyone in the audience, because I swear, something spiritual happens on that stage and that is where I find the meaning to most things I write, and Providence, Rhode Island for just being you. Lets work this out. Someone told me that when something gives you a hard time, show it love. When you want to curse something or someone, bless it. So I will love and bless you my city. And find happiness in the journey. https://youtube/watch?v=tZBAc8xkSVc
Posted on: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 14:31:16 +0000
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