Running notes on Black Aesthetic Movement

• how slave narrative came to be called literature.
• the slave narrative start a literary tradition.
• emotive language. emotive situation. the pathos of the position of the narrator.
• oral histories
• language is strikingly similar in structure, content and theme.

1. a corpus of non- fiction and fiction, oral and written, which asserts the equality, differentness -and sometimes superiority- of Blacks and Black- American way of doing and perceiving things.
2. a set of political principles, primarily consistent in their outrage against inequality.
3. a brace of ethical and artistic critiria which will be considered valid or invalid writing by Black Americans.
4. a human code for translating the mute matter of a world in which certain races and inhuman system combine to destroy other races and more humane systems.

 

Josiah Henson (1789- 1883) - “Truth Stranger than Fiction” (1858)

• feeling of pride in fulfilling his slave duties to his master.
• Henson tells of his decision not to choose freedom for himself and his compatriots when it is effortlessly graspable.

 

The three types of emotive language in a slave narrative:

1. prejudicial- negetive connotation
2. prepossessive- positive
3. euphemistic- expression of understatement or grim humour.

“Each man to his own Canada” -Ishmael Reed.

[Canada became a state of mind. Where men with black skin may be free.]

“The life and Times of Frederick Douglass” - Frederick Douglass(1881)

• “American Slavery”
• makes satire of the celebration of the Fourth of July as day of “independence” for all.
• “what the negro wants”
• “immediate, unconditional, and universal enfranchise of the black man”.

Booker T. Washington: advocate a sort of seperate, skilled guild of black blue-collar workers who would be content with their stations.

• education as an organic part of Black self- realisation.

W. E. B. Du Bous: often called the father of sociology in US.

US as a literate, print- sensitive culture. as opposed to preliterate, oral and aural- sensitive culture.

my latest graffiti: the forest fairy

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what is Ecopress and what is it doing on my blog?

I don’t care what Ecopress is but why the heck is it on my “free” blog.

It seems WordPress up to cheeky stunts: unauthorized ads sneaked in.

Ecopressed along with WordPress have decided to hoodwink the unsuspecting bloggers. Don’t be surprised if you see a ‘green’ ad of Ecopressed sneaking around the end of your blog post.

This is the new magic trick by WordPress. Blogging without advertisement as was sold to us (good faith) isn’t so and the benefit is to the “green” advertisement.

An ad after each post just before the comments box. Thank You, wordpress.

Is it my blog anymore? i guess not.

And the official reasoning (trust the online corporates to have some of these written down in some corner of there “Terms & Conditions”).

Official word>

“Note: To support the service (and keep free features free), we sometimes run advertisements. We try hard to only run them in limited places. If you would like to completely eliminate ads from appearing on your blog, we offer the No-Ads Upgrade.”

and,

” Automattic reserves the right to display advertisements on your blog unless you have purchased an Ad-free Upgrade or a VIP Services account.”

So where do we stand? i guess on the way to what has happened to Facebook. Commercialization of personal blogs (space).

what is the alternative?

HubPages: is a website designed around sharing advertising revenue for user-generated articles and other content on specific subjects.

If my blog has to have advertisements then why shouldn’t the person whose so called blog it is, get a piece of the pie.

I firmly believe this is against the true faith idea of a free blog. anyways how does one blog’s words stand in-front of the giant.

semi- fictional tale about Pluto Panes

Hi, my name is: Pluto Panes

Never in my life have I been: caught peeing from the top of a building.  

The one person who can drive me nuts is: my ‘adequately sane’ but imaginary neighbour Rufus Daruwala

When I’m nervous: I generally used to suck my thumb but nowadays i pee my pants.

The last song I listened to was: “free tibet” by highlight tribe

If I were to get married right now my best man/maid of honour: george w bush (any doubts?)

My hair is: black, long and tends to curl.

When I was 5: I had a pet hen called ‘laalti’. (it was only later in my life that i realised, chicken and men can never be friends.)

Last Christmas: I kicked santa in his nuts. and i apologied later. (i wrote a letter.)

I should be: studying literary theory for my entrance Exam.

When I look down I see: Narnia.

The happiest recent event was: the fall of Berlin wall.

If I were a character on ‘Friends’ I’d be: joey (now deal with it).

By this time next year: 2012 will be here. freedom at last.

My current gripe is: it’s 2011.

I like you when: i generally tend not to.

If I won an award, the first person I would tell would be: Myself. “hey pluto you won.”

Take my advice: Don’t be perfect. rejoice your flaws.

The thing I want to buy: 5 kilos for manala hash.

If you visited the place I was born: You will find an old mining town and thousands of shattered dreams.

I plan to visit: the otherside of the rainbow.

If you spent the night at my house: you might not meet me.

I’d stop my wedding if: i know about it.

The world could do without: money and justin beiber.

I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: accept god as the supreme creator.

Most recent thing I’ve bought myself: rolling papar.

My favorite blonde is: dumb.

My favorite brunette is: hipster. 

My favorite red head is: on Cartman’s ginger hate list.

My middle name is: bin laden. Pluto bin laden Panes

In the morning I: have a boner.

The animals I would like to see flying besides birds are: elephants. (they can already swim)

Once, at a bar: lost our jackets, acussed the bartender of stealing, fought with the bouncers, thrown out of the bar, we realised my friend had our jackets .

There’s this guy I know who: who doesn’t exist.

If I was an animal I’d be: saber tooth tiger. and still be alive.

Tomorrow I am: going to pretend remembering today.

Tonight I am: just me.

My birthday is: Sometime this week.

after the party

comes home drunk

and gets stoned here

words slander into one another

still few more puffs of the herb

would do wonders for the sleep

left the door open

or was it shut?

gets up

does the ritual

climb the stairs

latch the door

shut.

outside world off for the night

or is it day?

the love of the basement

underground.

days into the nights.

night perpitual

almost transcending laziness

of the night.

forgets to sleep.

the boy sighs

another day into the pleasing crowd.

last drags of the herb

with the other creatures

of the night day conundrum.

twenty cards of notice

handed out to twenty people

probably someone or everyone

will know him tomorrow.

the boy who shut

the latched door again

sighs.

day spent in the bar

passing out free beer coupons

to needy young girls in distress

tomorrow they will know me

all.

by then he would be long gone.

all dreams don’t come true

and the barely few which do

takes a awful lot

out of the boy.

Sleep happens randomly

“just like that”

as they say on the television.

grins like a silly child.

Stoned and drunk,

he exclaims.

for all purpose done,

he accepts.

he throws his sillyness

in your face.

goes to sleep on the couch.

wakes up.

shuts the laptop down

last cigarette.

“meet you tomorrow”

“maybe in 15 minutes”

“if i am unable to sleep,

that is”

he says.

just like they say in the movies.

 

#dedicated to Karan Krishna pande

lazy summer

somedays it would matter
and somedays it wouldn’t
somedays the cat would drag
in the flesh
and leave it on the bathroom floor
intestine to clean, isn’t an enjoyable task
hanging internal threads
ripped off by the merciless cat
a lazy summer afternoon snack

fourteen

smudged glass

written voice

rubbed… gone

thirteen

closed door

hidden secret

known… the unknown.

the red bricks

Questions haunt the mind

Demanding answers all over again

Answers unknown

Answers quite beyond my comprehension

Unlike the carefree days

This lonely me finds

The very work of nature

Confusing, outlandish

What are the red bricks?

Can you see through darkness?

What is roggibobbin?

How much joy makes you happy?

Which is better- a strip of paper or a strip of cloth?

Muted muffled stories…

Looking into the world can be a tiresome experience. The red t-shirts and the blue skirts of the world in their daily journey to reach from x to y. through the maze and beyond the gloom of the daily life. A bag strung around. And meticulously calculated steps. 10 steps to the coffee house. 45 steps to the college. The pondering over the cups of tea and sandwiches. The reflection on the sunglasses. A tiny sun scorns at you from the tinted shades. A smile hidden behind the glares. No intension. No voice. Muted muffled stories doing the round. You catch one and make it yours. Three years back I was walking by the road when…

twelve

yellow flower

morning sway

petal fall.

red petals few.

eleven

crystal dew.

small joy… pure.

gone one night

ten

crushed grass

zeal to rise

broken voice…

nine

frenetic joy

mad…

laugh. loud.

forced tug

eight

gentle hug

known hands

strange feeling. stranger.