Speaker 1: Cool Zone Media.
Speaker 2: Book Club Club, Club Club Club Club, book Club Clubs Clubs,
Speaker 2: Books book Club.
Speaker 3: Hello everybody, and welcome to Kool Zone Media book Club,
Speaker 3: where I actually didn't have to chance by myself this time,
Speaker 3: and the continued on synchronicity of zoom continues to entertain
Speaker 3: at least me. Cool Zone Media.
Speaker 4: Book Club is the only book club where you don't
Speaker 4: have to do the reading, because usually I do it
Speaker 4: for you, but this time, my guest, Prince Shakur, is
Speaker 4: going to do the reading for you.
Speaker 3: Hi, Prince, how are you.
Speaker 2: I'm good, I'm glad to be here. I've never done
Speaker 2: a book club like this, so I'm excited.
Speaker 3: I like this model because I read a lot, but
Speaker 3: I still struggle with actual book clubs because then I'm like, uh, homework,
Speaker 3: I can't do homework.
Speaker 2: Yeah, and it's good to read with other people. And
Speaker 2: I guess I mean like studying literature and university. It
Speaker 2: reminds me of being in literature class. And yeah, I
Speaker 2: don't know. I always liked the communal nature of reading
Speaker 2: or even workshops or reading like fresh writing with people,
Speaker 2: so I feel like this just gives me, I don't know,
Speaker 2: a bit of nostalgia.
Speaker 3: And you even have your own book that people have
Speaker 3: probably read. But you're also a podcaster. You have a
Speaker 3: podcast called The Dugout and a book. Do you want
Speaker 3: to tell us about those things?
Speaker 2: Yeah? Yeah, So my book is a memoir. It's titled
Speaker 2: When They Tell You to Be Good. I describe it
Speaker 2: as my political coming of age, what it was like
Speaker 2: growing up queer in a Jamaican family, getting radicalized, being
Speaker 2: a part of different movements. A lot of it is
Speaker 2: about Jamaic colonial violence, patriarchal violence, but I kind of
Speaker 2: wrote it as like a what is it like being young,
Speaker 2: queer and radicalized in today's America? And it is really
Speaker 2: inspired by a lot of other like black power literature
Speaker 2: and memoirs from like the Civil rights and Black power era.
Speaker 2: And yeah, it's just like a project of love and
Speaker 2: me trying to process a lot. And yeah, it came
Speaker 2: out a few years ago, so folks want to check
Speaker 2: it out. It's called When They Tell You to Be Good?
Speaker 2: And I also do a podcast it's called The Dugout
Speaker 2: of Black Anarchist Podcasts, and we talk about a lot
Speaker 2: of things on there. We talk about news, we interview
Speaker 2: lots of people black Panther Veterans Revolutionaries. Recently just interviewed
Speaker 2: a cadre out of Minneapolis who were doing a lot
Speaker 2: of like firearms training and community defense, and we interviewed
Speaker 2: two of the defendants from like the Minnesota fifteen repression case.
Speaker 2: So a lot of conversations, which I think is good
Speaker 2: in this particular period of political chaos we're in.
Speaker 3: I'm really sad about the Minnesota fifteen, mostly because well
Speaker 3: mostly because of the repression, but beyond that, because Damn
Speaker 3: fifteen was right there. They're being accused of being part
Speaker 3: of a group called Damn and that's really what matters.
Speaker 3: Is that now, I obviously that's not what matters, but
Speaker 3: people should check out what's going on with the Minnesota
Speaker 3: fifteen or as no one calls them, the Damn fifteen,
Speaker 3: because it's bad. Well, this month we are commemorating Black
Speaker 3: August with guests, interviews, and special episodes on the show.
Speaker 3: Black August is a month of remembrance, study, and revolution,
Speaker 3: honoring black freedom fighters and the movements they supported for
Speaker 3: prison evolution, decolonization, and the end of racial capitalism. Black
Speaker 3: August was started by incarcerated black radicals in the San
Speaker 3: Quentin prison in nineteen seventy nine to mark the deaths
Speaker 3: of George Jackson and his brother Jonathan Jackson at the
Speaker 3: hands of the state of California a few years earlier,
Speaker 3: and today people honor many dates in August throughout the
Speaker 3: whole month. This includes the August ninth killing of Mike
Speaker 3: Brown in twenty fourteen. August thirtieth was Fred Hampton's birthday
Speaker 3: in nineteen forty eight, and August twenty first was the
Speaker 3: beginning of Nat Turner's rebellion in eighteen thirty one, the
Speaker 3: rebellion that has come up so many times on my
Speaker 3: history podcast, including last week, I think ended up talking
Speaker 3: about Nat Turner because we were talking about black literacy,
Speaker 3: and there's no possible way to overstate how much Nat
Speaker 3: Turner's rebellion scared white supremacist all throughout the country. And
Speaker 3: one of the ways besides just like, oh, they actually
Speaker 3: can fight back and kill people, was just literally that
Speaker 3: Nat Turner could read, which was illegal, right, and like
Speaker 3: had read. He was a preacher too, and he had
Speaker 3: like read the words that he was preaching. And that's
Speaker 3: good the piss out of people. Anyway, That's what I
Speaker 3: got about Black August do you guys think say about it?
Speaker 2: Yeah, I mean, I think it's definitely a month of commemoration,
Speaker 2: and it's a chance, like a lot of the reading
Speaker 2: and kind ofnology around it says to not only reflect,
Speaker 2: but do things to honor like these freedom fighters and revolutionaries.
Speaker 2: So I think it's just for me, like a really
Speaker 2: key reminder of like the necessity of abolition and kind
Speaker 2: of re educating myself about abolition. A book that I
Speaker 2: recommend folks check out if they want to like dig
Speaker 2: into things more is Tip of the Spear by Urisan
Speaker 2: me Burton. That's like something I've read a lot over
Speaker 2: the last year or two, and it kind of follows
Speaker 2: a lot of the timeline and movements and prison revolts
Speaker 2: and uprisings and organizing around the nineteen seventy one Attica
Speaker 2: prison uprising. And I think it just gives a lot
Speaker 2: of context, and I love that there's a lot in
Speaker 2: there about like the Black Liberation Army and Kuwasi Ballagoon
Speaker 2: and other revolutionaries and just it really digs into a
Speaker 2: lot of the details of just like this really explosive
Speaker 2: period of of rebellion inside of prisons in jails. So
Speaker 2: I feel like I'd really recommend that, but I think
Speaker 2: like auguest is so necessary. There's been countless men in
Speaker 2: my family who've been deported or in prison, and I
Speaker 2: don't know, carse. Reality is fucking evil, and I think
Speaker 2: people should be educated and check in with their education
Speaker 2: around it and find community events and find ways to
Speaker 2: organize with people on the inside or letter writing. Especially
Speaker 2: with all of the ongoing repression cases happening right now,
Speaker 2: it just feels really relevant.
Speaker 3: Whenever I try to like really quickly explain prison abolition
Speaker 3: to somebody. There's like a comic. I don't remember who
Speaker 3: wrote the comic. It's like four panels long or something,
Speaker 3: but it's just like someone comes over someone's house and
Speaker 3: they're like, oh, don't go out of the basement. I
Speaker 3: have a guy in there. And you're like wait what.
Speaker 3: You're like, I kind of trying to steal my car
Speaker 3: a couple of years ago, so he's just down in
Speaker 3: the basement now, and you're like, well, that's that seems completely.
Speaker 2: Fucked up, messed up.
Speaker 3: Yes, Like every now and then, it just like really
Speaker 3: hits me that if the wrong person hits the wrong
Speaker 3: person just like punches them, just gets angry punches somebody,
Speaker 3: which all of us have. No, I would never have
Speaker 3: done such a terrible thing, but like all of us
Speaker 3: have done. And you're like, oh, that could just especially
Speaker 3: if like the system is out to get you for
Speaker 3: various reasons. You're now spending years of your life in
Speaker 3: a cage. You're just like, oh, I'm gonna put this
Speaker 3: guy in a cage because he did drugs. You're like, wait, what, Yeah,
Speaker 3: Like who's the evil one here?
Speaker 2: Yeah, Like it makes me think of like the Khalif
Speaker 2: Browder case, like how he was accused of stealing a
Speaker 2: backpack and spent years in like jail And.
Speaker 3: Is that the like rikers and he was like it
Speaker 3: was pre trial, but they just didn't get around to him.
Speaker 2: Yes, exactly. Yeah, And and like the point that you mentioned,
Speaker 2: like it reminds me of I think it's like our
Speaker 2: persons obsolete by Angela Davis, Like she talks about how
Speaker 2: prisons one of their functions is to invisibilize people and
Speaker 2: social issues, and so it makes me think about exactly
Speaker 2: what you're saying, Like just hide the problem, throw in
Speaker 2: a bunch of violence and misery and call it the
Speaker 2: justice system.
Speaker 3: Yeah, it's just yeah, yeah, real ironic name that they
Speaker 3: picked for themselves. Well, we're not going to do nonfiction.
Speaker 3: We're going to do fiction, which of course never has
Speaker 3: any social value. That part sarcastic. I hear you have
Speaker 3: a story for me this week?
Speaker 2: Yes, I do. Today, we have a story and it's
Speaker 2: titled What We Want, What We Believe, by Alex Smith.
Speaker 3: And if people are like Alex Smith, that name is familiar.
Speaker 3: Besides the fact that it is almost a brilliantly generic name, Alex.
Speaker 3: If you're listening, no offense to you here. We did
Speaker 3: another story by Alex Smith in March. A story was
Speaker 3: called Girls Who Look Through Class and maybe I'll remember it.
Speaker 3: It was about a grocery co op worker who gets
Speaker 3: swept up into a cosmic struggle for justice, and it
Speaker 3: was really fun and psychedelic. So I'm excited to hear
Speaker 3: this one. I got that chance to meet Alex earlier
Speaker 3: this year at a panel in Philadelphia of radical fiction
Speaker 3: writers and it ruled. So I'm excited to hear more stories.
Speaker 2: Oh cool. Yeah, this story, I would say, is framed
Speaker 2: through the Black Panther's ten Point program, which is also
Speaker 2: called Like, as I mentioned before, what We want what
Speaker 2: we believe, And it follows basically the aftermath of the
Speaker 2: police execution of a fictionalized black panther. And it's about
Speaker 2: revolutionary legacy and transcendental joy. And it's also, i would say,
Speaker 2: about the painful after image of repression, incarceration, and state violence.
Speaker 2: And just as a kind of disclaimer for listeners, this
Speaker 2: story does discuss gun violence, intravenous drug use, hearing voices,
Speaker 2: childhood psychosis, and kids in traumatic situations. Just wanted to
Speaker 2: give that disclaim. Okay, okay, So let's begin. What we
Speaker 2: want what we believed by Alex Smith one. We want freedom,
Speaker 2: We want power to determine the destiny of our black community.
Speaker 2: Regina Adams let her hair lick her face in the
Speaker 2: pulsing rain. She ducked under a canopy near Lee's and waited,
Speaker 2: her body drenched. Working down at the community college during
Speaker 2: the day, taking classes at night, she was going to
Speaker 2: be somebody, even if the long hours meant she couldn't
Speaker 2: be somebody somebody. A car pulled up to the corner
Speaker 2: and a man rolled down the window, one of them
Speaker 2: long cars she thinks used to be white painted black.
Speaker 2: Who are you out here for the man asked, excuse me,
Speaker 2: Regina said, taken aback. She straightened her knockoff Pierre Cardon skirt,
Speaker 2: tucked her satchel closer to her body, and shot the
Speaker 2: man a look, bitch, don't let me get out the car.
Speaker 2: The man said in a low tone. His one gold
Speaker 2: tooth was noticeably dead and dull, but still somehow shown
Speaker 2: in his rear view mirror as he suddenly adjusted himself.
Speaker 2: Who in the car, Babe Randall from seemingly out of
Speaker 2: nowhere called out. As he approached, he called himself rand X,
Speaker 2: always reading, hanging with fives. What's happening? We have him
Speaker 2: shrimp tonight. Oh that's your nigga. Huh, the man in
Speaker 2: the car said to them. Ran shot him a look
Speaker 2: that was all tight jawed and narrow eyed. Pulling Regina
Speaker 2: in close. The ladies with me, he paused. Then, yeah,
Speaker 2: I know who you are. I know you, with your
Speaker 2: various entrepreneurial endeavors, don't have time to mess with decent
Speaker 2: folks like us. So if you'll excuse the missus in me,
Speaker 2: Rollo leaned back in his seat, tapping on the gas,
Speaker 2: fixing his buffont hair in the mirror. You act to
Speaker 2: as boys. He shook his head. Y'all ain't good for business.
Speaker 2: Consider that a fair warning. You have a good Rollo's
Speaker 2: fake slip car crept back up the street. Regina, lost
Speaker 2: in the moment, suddenly tugged wildly away from Rand's grasp. Boy,
Speaker 2: if you don't get your hands off of me, she demanded.
Speaker 2: Rand had been trying to talk to her since freshman year.
Speaker 2: She saw him change from a delinquent kid, a bag boy,
Speaker 2: a stick up kid, and petty crimes to a man
Speaker 2: walking through campus. He was not taking class one, just
Speaker 2: using the school typewriters to make his little pamphlets. Sista,
Speaker 2: no disrespect. I was just you were just tell you
Speaker 2: what if you won't let me walk you home? Huh,
Speaker 2: then he said, handing her a pamphlet. There was a
Speaker 2: crude drawing of a black panther on it. Come down
Speaker 2: to the YMCA on fifty second. There's something going down
Speaker 2: and we need all the intelligent sisters like you in
Speaker 2: the front row. You dig. Regina pursed her lips together
Speaker 2: and gently rolled her eyes, crumbling the paper into her satchel.
Speaker 2: She watched him walk away, dapping and shaking hands with
Speaker 2: other black men. Tipping an imaginary hat to rain soap
Speaker 2: black woman as he ambled up the street, disappearing into
Speaker 2: the night. This Maya, what kind of name is that?
Speaker 1: You?
Speaker 2: African? Kill them? Maya sits down on the mattress. She
Speaker 2: grabs the belt, tying it around her arm tight. The
Speaker 2: loop feels like an extension of herself. She holds her
Speaker 2: hand out impatiently toward one of the boys. There they
Speaker 2: put the syringe in her hand. The two boys sit
Speaker 2: beside her, on either side, barely men. A husky ambient
Speaker 2: debris waffs off the bed. The entire thing is encrusted, peeling,
Speaker 2: just like the room. Walls thick with dried blood, burnt
Speaker 2: yellow with cigarette stains. Roaches scamper at the weight of
Speaker 2: the young men. Kill them both. Maya ignores the young men,
Speaker 2: swivels to one side and back to the other, avoiding
Speaker 2: their grabby hands. Why she liked that, yo? Why she
Speaker 2: acting like that? They don't deserve what you possess? Would
Speaker 2: you just shut the fuck up? Maya rises, stabs one
Speaker 2: of the boys in the face with the needle. She
Speaker 2: kicks trash about the room. The other boy searches the mattress,
Speaker 2: slapping newspapers and condom wrappers into the air. He finds
Speaker 2: another needle and slowly plunges it into his arm. This
Speaker 2: bitch stab me in the eye. Yeah, I seen that.
Speaker 2: Something seems to wrap itself around her body, something wispy
Speaker 2: and shaky, a filament of a thing. It feels cool.
Speaker 2: It's the drug, she thinks, the come down. She wants
Speaker 2: the long, warm drink of an opiate in her veins.
Speaker 2: She sees blood leak from the boy's eye, the other
Speaker 2: swollen with red tears and anger. He's foaming at the mouth.
Speaker 2: Maya stares at the door and realizes she has never
Speaker 2: noticed its dimensions before, that its frame was once a
Speaker 2: sturdy oak, its splintered and ripped and vacant. Now just
Speaker 2: a doorway. The hall, just a pitch black, never ending
Speaker 2: hole that seems to retract from her vision the longer
Speaker 2: she stares. Why had she never noticed it before? Something
Speaker 2: about time, the piles of newspaper, the rotting clothes, the
Speaker 2: rusting nails sticking out of the floorboards, and no windows.
Speaker 2: She has not thought about leaving that place for weeks,
Speaker 2: weeks like years, folded into her sallow skin, the feeling
Speaker 2: over her morphs into something darker. Can she see it?
Speaker 2: All squiggly lines and rotten, jagged teeth and encasing her.
Speaker 2: It swirls around her, seizes her. The boy lunges at her.
Speaker 2: Then the thing evaporates, twisting in the air and materializing
Speaker 2: in the hallway about ten steps beyond the door, as
Speaker 2: a little white girl in an orange dress floats in
Speaker 2: the darkness. The dress hovers and curls around the child's body.
Speaker 2: She steals her face, raises a finger and motions for
Speaker 2: Maya to come. The boy grabs her shoulder. Maya steps
Speaker 2: out of the door and feel her feet beating a
Speaker 2: path toward the girl. The child's lips draw back like
Speaker 2: dry sacks. Her eyes sink in. The child's face is
Speaker 2: all jagged, monstrous teeth. They don't deserve your skin. They
Speaker 2: don't deserve your drug. Maya freezes. Then suddenly she is
Speaker 2: ripped back into the room by a pair of black hands,
Speaker 2: back into the sad void of the young man's face,
Speaker 2: screaming hot breath on her cheek. Number two, We want
Speaker 2: full employment for our people, Regina, Regina, get up a
Speaker 2: beach in California, maybe a warm sun, A seagull chimed
Speaker 2: in the afternoon air, aloft but losing feathers. Regina's dressed
Speaker 2: danced on the breeze alive. Who is this smallish, dark
Speaker 2: black man running panting his way up the short mounds
Speaker 2: of sand on this beautiful beach? Regina Regina was under
Speaker 2: a desk. She looked up through the bullet holes and
Speaker 2: the angled turned over tabletop. She held a double barreled
Speaker 2: shotgun in her tiny brown hand. Draped over the desk
Speaker 2: was Harold Martin, and over him was Jerome Pratt. Beside
Speaker 2: her was a skinny Chinese man with soft o eyes
Speaker 2: named Tet Tet, bunching his chest where blood soaked his
Speaker 2: fingers through the brown fishing vest he seemed to wear
Speaker 2: every day. Regina, Regina get up. She could hear him
Speaker 2: in her head, somewhere rattling down its labyrinthine caverns, but
Speaker 2: she couldn't see his face. Regina searched the room. Her
Speaker 2: senses felt nothing but her own breath. There, behind a
Speaker 2: foul cabinet, he was carrying an ingram mac tent. The
Speaker 2: poor man's busy, she thought to herself, analyzing the gun.
Speaker 2: Proud she got it right, rand X. When he fired
Speaker 2: his gun. She knew she got it right. A thundering
Speaker 2: round ripped through the air. Regina, go to the back
Speaker 2: room now before bullet's tour back at rand Was he hit?
Speaker 2: Wasn't she just lying there cradled in a strangely terse
Speaker 2: yet weirdly doey arms. Was he not holding her the
Speaker 2: same way he had done every time? Weren't they snug
Speaker 2: on the couch watching Lieutenant and her kiss that white
Speaker 2: man on star trek at a reception after a rally
Speaker 2: on Temple's campus. He was there right when she did
Speaker 2: her best impression of Brother Huey while carrying the new
Speaker 2: bullhorn she bought on South Street with her financial aid money.
Speaker 2: And she was putting sandwiches and bananas and grocery bags
Speaker 2: to get to the neighborhood kids for the Sunday meal
Speaker 2: programs they started that summer at the gun range. He
Speaker 2: was always gripping her up from behind, whispering some mess
Speaker 2: in her ear, playing all the time, Yeah she been
Speaker 2: read that ridiculous red book. Randall, if you don't get
Speaker 2: your ass in this bed, I'm going to show you
Speaker 2: a red book. Show you right, the moon hung low
Speaker 2: and the sky that night looked like a searchlight in clouds.
Speaker 2: When the smoke from the incense hit it. Don't worry
Speaker 2: about me. You have to get out of here, go
Speaker 2: to the safe house. Another bang and another bang. Ran
Speaker 2: spun around with a sharp, contorted jerk. Regina saw his
Speaker 2: body gracelessly drift towards the floor through the sludge of
Speaker 2: gravity and time. Regina, please, She turned toward the side door.
Speaker 2: It was not the one Ran wanted her to go through.
Speaker 2: She cocked her shotgun that she put her mind back
Speaker 2: on the gun range. That was where he proposed. The
Speaker 2: bullets ripped through paper when they reeled it in. He
Speaker 2: made a quip about changing all the target outlines for
Speaker 2: pictures of Commissioner Rizzo. She fingered one of the bullet
Speaker 2: holes and licked her lips. Not bad, he said to her.
Speaker 2: Not bad, She smirked. I'll show you not bad. She
Speaker 2: kicked the door in a supply closet, a stool, up
Speaker 2: on top of the stool and out of the small
Speaker 2: top window. Could she make it, she rubbed the slight
Speaker 2: bump of her belly. She would have to. She looked
Speaker 2: out of the window and into the street. The crowd
Speaker 2: had gathered a few blocks up. Their nervous anger was
Speaker 2: trained on the front door of the building. Regina was
Speaker 2: trapped in. Just to the far opposite side of the
Speaker 2: horde was an alley. A black cat walked spryly. They're
Speaker 2: a very small pool of rotting juice from the garbage bins.
Speaker 2: It arched its back and stretched. It looked free.
Speaker 3: But do you know what, dear listeners makes you free?
Speaker 3: Like that cat? Your ability to hit the forward fifteen
Speaker 3: seconds button as many times as it takes before you.
Speaker 5: Hear Prince's voice again. Because here's ads.
Speaker 3: And we're back.
Speaker 2: The bed, though, that's where it wants to lie, lies
Speaker 2: on the bed, not supposed to be on the bed,
Speaker 2: but it's the best place to look up at the
Speaker 2: ceiling because the entire room opens up from there, a
Speaker 2: portal maybe where all manner of things can come pouring out,
Speaker 2: things like bouncy. Why do I wear a suit because
Speaker 2: I am dignified? You see, I wear a suit because
Speaker 2: I want to walk into town with a gorgeous woman
Speaker 2: on my arm, perhaps spinner around in the aisle at
Speaker 2: Bergdorfhin the Goodman's by her, the finest furs at Macy's
Speaker 2: serenade her in the hoisery section at Kmart. Only the
Speaker 2: best for her. You understand the finest silver, the finest goal,
Speaker 2: and lots and lots of diamonds. But you're a bunny.
Speaker 2: Tut tut. That's neither hair Snack's nick nor there I'm
Speaker 2: a creature of class, a man of grace. After all
Speaker 2: we've been through together. Surely you can see that sits
Speaker 2: on the bed and sighs, weary of bouncys ridiculous proclamations.
Speaker 2: And Bouncy pushed that third grader into the creek, almost drowning.
Speaker 2: The boy let the rabbit stick around, despite the fact
Speaker 2: that it was that got a beating for it, ran
Speaker 2: my wa or out, couldn't sit down for a week,
Speaker 2: couldn't watch Fat Albert all that year. When Bouncy stole
Speaker 2: some candy from mister Griffin's store, he left holding it
Speaker 2: a long hot ride in a policeman's car. Another beating
Speaker 2: and the hushed whispered tones in the living room. Later
Speaker 2: the boys got problems for the show Knafelise, but I
Speaker 2: don't know what to do with them. My daughter dropped
Speaker 2: him off and I ain't seen her since. I've been
Speaker 2: reading about all these disorders. They've been discovering something about
Speaker 2: the attention deficit. Maybe he needs some counseling. Counseling not
Speaker 2: my blood. Haha, you can forget that. Wouldn't hear the
Speaker 2: end of it from Hattie down at the church? Mm hmm,
Speaker 2: I know that's right with their sorry ass potato salad. Well,
Speaker 2: it was just a thought. Nothing a belt can't fix.
Speaker 2: You want to open this, don't you? Bouncey stand in
Speaker 2: front of Grandma's dresser like a game show hostess. His
Speaker 2: fur is matted and I dangles sloppily from underneath a patch.
Speaker 2: His suit rags. A dirty white foot pokes through the
Speaker 2: gaping mouth of his floppy shoe. Still there's a manic
Speaker 2: composure about him. Stands and pushes Bouncy aside. They aren't
Speaker 2: even supposed to be in there, not on the bed,
Speaker 2: not playing around in the dresser. Again, just leave me alone.
Speaker 2: You're bad news, Bouncy. Why bad news? Here's the thought?
Speaker 2: Why I would Bouncy Stumbling on his messed up shoe,
Speaker 2: falls forward into the dresser. It pops open cranes neck
Speaker 2: to peek a piece of crimson, a snatch of soft
Speaker 2: pearly white, go on, go on. Yes, The room darkens.
Speaker 2: The rabbit stands in a dim light, then by itself.
Speaker 2: The dresser rumbles open soft cotton, wonderful velvet grandmothers panties
Speaker 2: are as exquisite as imagine them. Gently runs fingers over
Speaker 2: the fabrics. The clothes seemed to grip small hands. Soon
Speaker 2: is wrapped up in them. Flailing on the bed, has
Speaker 2: forgotten about Bouncy. Bouncy Bunny calls out, come, lie on
Speaker 2: the bed with me. Bouncy sits on the edge of
Speaker 2: the bed and peers over the darkening corner of the room.
Speaker 2: There's Bouncy, only under a fading net of light, can
Speaker 2: still see the rabbit's mangy face. A maggot crawls in
Speaker 2: and out of Bouncy's ear. Bouncy sports as soft a
Speaker 2: smile as he can muster. He dips in a solemn bow,
Speaker 2: tips his hat, and fades into the darkness. Three we
Speaker 2: won an end to the robbery by the white men
Speaker 2: and the capitalists of our black community. And a diner
Speaker 2: in Chelsea, a warbling tune by First Choice clicked on
Speaker 2: the jukebox with the force of a hammer. It snapped
Speaker 2: Regina out of her daze. She had been wearing the
Speaker 2: same sweatshirt and baseball cap for the past two days,
Speaker 2: all gray, a slate of banality. The crowd was small,
Speaker 2: but there was indeed a crowd, customers who seemed more
Speaker 2: like patients, zombie like and damaged, as they guzzled coffee
Speaker 2: and folded newspapers with Regina's face splashed all over them
Speaker 2: in bold print. There was no rhythm to their movement.
Speaker 2: The bell over the doorway jarred her each time a
Speaker 2: new face entered and an old face exited. She was
Speaker 2: grateful for that wretched bell, though she didn't want to
Speaker 2: fall asleep there, just waiting for Yes. This woman a stout,
Speaker 2: dark skinned creature with an outdated Madam C. J. Walker perm,
Speaker 2: long coat and beads, not very conspicuous, but they told
Speaker 2: her that she wouldn't be wanted. Posters be damned. Regina
Speaker 2: perked up her eyes, darting savagely under her tinted glasses.
Speaker 2: The woman past her table and headed for the lunch counter,
Speaker 2: then huffed slightly as she read a menu. Regina began
Speaker 2: to peel herself out of the booth, a difficult feet
Speaker 2: under the weight of pregnancy sit. The woman said, irritation
Speaker 2: in her voice. Take off those goddamn glasses. He looked
Speaker 2: like a fucking fool. The woman wouldn't look at her,
Speaker 2: She just sighed. Regina sighed too, and took off the glasses.
Speaker 2: Over easy, Please decap The waitress tagged the board with
Speaker 2: the mysterious perm wearing woman's order. I looked like a fool. Ooh,
Speaker 2: Regina thought to herself. You will go to the address
Speaker 2: written on the third napkin and the holder in the
Speaker 2: booth near the door. Yes, I know there's a white
Speaker 2: family eating there. If you weren't wearing that ridiculous get up,
Speaker 2: it would not be a problem to ask for a
Speaker 2: few napkins, would it. Once you're up there, you will
Speaker 2: go to the back door, enter through the kitchen, and
Speaker 2: go up the stairs to the second floor bathroom. A
Speaker 2: tub will be there. It will be filled with warm water.
Speaker 2: Lavender rose and liec petals will steep in the water.
Speaker 2: Two women will wait for you there naked. They will
Speaker 2: rub you with alo hum gently. You'll drink the elixir
Speaker 2: in a vial on the rim of the tub. This
Speaker 2: will relax you. Don't worry about what's in it. Just
Speaker 2: do it. You will float there breathing. It will be painful,
Speaker 2: but they will be there to ease your pain. Worry not.
Speaker 2: Your journey begins at six o'clock tonight. Take care, restless child.
Speaker 2: The coffee grew stale, the eggs waited there, and the
Speaker 2: chili diner air. Regina just stared at them. A wave
Speaker 2: of panic rippled through her when the white family nodded
Speaker 2: and smiled at her as they grabbed their things and
Speaker 2: headed to the door, the children making a racket, the
Speaker 2: father winking at their waitress, the wife pretending not to see.
Speaker 2: There were bald up napkins on the table. Regina darted
Speaker 2: over to their table, rifling through their plates. Hey, what
Speaker 2: are you doing over there? Trying to steal my tips? Bitch?
Speaker 2: Regina tucked all the napkins into her sweatshirt, ducking her head.
Speaker 2: Fuck your tips. She tossed another three dollars on the table.
Speaker 2: When the door chimed upon her opening it, the sound
Speaker 2: rattled her bones. She looked up at the bell and wondered,
Speaker 2: And she was just like everybody else, coming into this
Speaker 2: diner on a ball me Tuesday morning, each soul ringing
Speaker 2: this bell announcing their presence. I was in this place,
Speaker 2: she reminded herself. Four. We want decent housing, fit for
Speaker 2: shelter of human beings. Bitch, yes, stay girl, Yes, Mother
Speaker 2: sits in the chair. No one else can sit in
Speaker 2: mother's chair. The girls sit on couches, some sit unfolding chairs,
Speaker 2: Some stand not in the chair. They wag fingers and approval.
Speaker 2: Some snap where did she get that glorious blouse that
Speaker 2: sheer top of, billowing wigh the fuck up around the
Speaker 2: arms and cutting off right below the tummy, fitting like
Speaker 2: a glove over shoulders so broad they could tag in
Speaker 2: for Atlas himself. The burden they carry, Maya thinks is
Speaker 2: no less impossible. But there the bitch go dancing. She
Speaker 2: spins around and stops, nearly completing a one a degree turn,
Speaker 2: only to complete the rest of her half circle in
Speaker 2: a slow motion. Now pose a slender Puerto Rican man
Speaker 2: waves a fan, prosses his legs. He sits beside mother,
Speaker 2: speaking two and for her. The girl and the blouse
Speaker 2: poses magazine sharp. Her jaw line clinches tight, hands on
Speaker 2: her hips. Now those hands are cinching her breasts. Then
Speaker 2: they are in the air, arm straight, practically walking on
Speaker 2: air to pull down clouds. The music stops. Was there music?
Speaker 2: Maya looks over to mother. The cron's hands raised. All
Speaker 2: of the girls and all of the boys stop, their
Speaker 2: faces once jovial, clownish, now stoic and hushed. A pause,
Speaker 2: and Mother speaks, ten, you heard her. The man beside
Speaker 2: her erupts, his fan flitting wildly across, down and over
Speaker 2: his face. The music roars back, a pulls beat like
Speaker 2: none Maya had heard before. It drones and hypnotizes, tends
Speaker 2: across the board. Then a new girl dances. Maya watches
Speaker 2: wide eyed. Mother leans into the man beside her and
Speaker 2: whispers into his ear. The man looks directly at Maya,
Speaker 2: a face like a joker's, mischievous and determined, and he nods. Five.
Speaker 2: We want education for our people that exposes the true
Speaker 2: nature of this decadent American society. We want education that
Speaker 2: teaches us our true history and our role in the
Speaker 2: present day society. Push push, you can do it, Okay, now, relax, relax,
Speaker 2: there you go. Relax, We got you, We got you.
Speaker 2: Let the let the water gently. It's a. Maya digs
Speaker 2: her hands in the dirt. The peer is quiet, except
Speaker 2: one sound. Amari screams, where are they coming from? Why
Speaker 2: she covered in blood? The beautiful dirt, Why is it
Speaker 2: such a pure thing to her? Why do the caps
Speaker 2: from the sprite bottles and empty Senca packets, used condoms
Speaker 2: and the sea offers such a perfect potpourri? Why is
Speaker 2: she drifting here? And what is she dreaming of? Amari screams, down,
Speaker 2: twist She's given you, Banshee. He watches her twist in
Speaker 2: the moon's light, covered in the thin haze of that
Speaker 2: rocky hue, silhouetted against the backdrop of a calm wave.
Speaker 2: This isn't the beach she'd dream of, This is a stage.
Speaker 2: Amari kicks his feet in the sandy earth cunt, Her
Speaker 2: faded jean shorts ride up over her milky golden thigh,
Speaker 2: her crop t shirt, once white stained now just a
Speaker 2: few weeks ago, when she walked into London's Ball, she
Speaker 2: draped her body in the plastic deture of a replicated ive.
Speaker 2: San Laurent carried an umbrella that she tied glow sticks around,
Speaker 2: and pranced down the tattered floorboards in the basement of
Speaker 2: an African American community center. She tried a few new
Speaker 2: moves that night, Amari was cruel bitch of luck. She
Speaker 2: landed an airplane chopped, Maya leaps into the near dark air.
Speaker 2: She kisses space. That lone second that she is up
Speaker 2: there feels like a world being berthed. From her place
Speaker 2: in the sky, she can see everything. A dog lying
Speaker 2: by its dying homeless owner, the dangling neon signed by
Speaker 2: the Chinese spot where she first met Amari after a
Speaker 2: hair and fueled night. The steps to the Silvia rivera
Speaker 2: community center downtown with its now crumbling societ, girded by
Speaker 2: steel canopies and littered with junkies. Then she is falling
Speaker 2: back to the wet earth a split. She falls onto
Speaker 2: her back dramatically, her hands pointed as elegantly as the
Speaker 2: craning neck of a swan. It's about time, bitch. My
Speaker 2: name is Maya, now, she told him. Then, my name
Speaker 2: is Maya, And like I said, it's about time. Bitch. Oh,
Speaker 2: oh my god, Maya bitch hell. Amari grasps at his throat. Scaly,
Speaker 2: flaking alabaster hands reach over and grab him. They have
Speaker 2: poles in their hands, swinging violently crack on top of
Speaker 2: a Mari's skin. Maya grabs at their sticks pulling them away.
Speaker 2: They were alone out here, she thought, where did these
Speaker 2: men come from? Were they John's? The girls sometimes shared
Speaker 2: the peer with businessmen and lawyers and satisfied at home
Speaker 2: on the routine hunt for some dicks to suck, some
Speaker 2: bodies to feel up, to get their rocks off, or
Speaker 2: they pimps, thugs, rednecks. Maya grabs one of them, wraps
Speaker 2: her hand around his neck, lifts him up into the air.
Speaker 2: He kicks and struggles. She slams him onto the ground,
Speaker 2: head first and drags him out to the sea, a
Speaker 2: searing hot blow to her head. Then it all goes black.
Speaker 3: But do you know what, dear listener, Maya probably saw
Speaker 3: when all went black. I'm willing to bet, Prince, I'm
Speaker 3: willing to bet that it was the siren call of
Speaker 3: the products and services that support this show. And we're back.
Speaker 2: Six. We want all black men to be exempt from
Speaker 2: military service. The filter was overflowing hot water blistered on
Speaker 2: her right hand. The pain snapped her back. The rink
Speaker 2: smell of stale robustica coffee, overcooked beans and cigarettes s
Speaker 2: flooded her senses. Shit, she explained. The counter was a
Speaker 2: mess from the overpore. She sighed, tossed the filter, poured
Speaker 2: the greeny brew from the flask into a cup, and
Speaker 2: served it Turkish coffee, she explained. A mousey woman in
Speaker 2: a turtleneck sweater cupped it as if it was a
Speaker 2: forbidden elixir and she was dying from some ancient disease.
Speaker 2: There's too many grains in this, The white woman squeeked,
Speaker 2: It's yeah, it's Turkish coffee. The two women stared at
Speaker 2: each other for an eternal three seconds, until the white
Speaker 2: woman turned away and sat back down out. Just clean
Speaker 2: the counter, Regina, Just clean the counter. Make these weird
Speaker 2: hippie burnouts their coffee, Smile at their art that looks
Speaker 2: like a baby shit itself, laugh at their poetry about
Speaker 2: their souls burning up in the s and M dungeon
Speaker 2: of corporate America, and just breathe for your child. North
Speaker 2: Carolina is a long way, isn't it. The white man,
Speaker 2: sitting at a table near the window, said, I'm sorry,
Speaker 2: Regina replied, a bit uneasy. What did you say? Strange place,
Speaker 2: isn't it, he said, straightening his glasses. He looked like
Speaker 2: Clark Kent. That somehow made Regina nervous duke's coffee, Regina asked,
Speaker 2: throat quavering, A bit, a little, I'm used to it.
Speaker 2: The man took a sip of his coffee. Did Janice
Speaker 2: serve him before she'd clocked out? I bet you are.
Speaker 2: She wanted to ask, Cracker, do I know you? Instead,
Speaker 2: she let a tense line crack, her robust lips shaking.
Speaker 2: She went to wash a few dishes. She watched a
Speaker 2: minute go by on the large clock by the door.
Speaker 2: She watched the door five point thirty. The clock read
Speaker 2: half hour until Sunday close, a sweet two hours earlier
Speaker 2: than during the week, but still somehow just as achingly long.
Speaker 2: She picked up a knife. Look at this shit, the
Speaker 2: man called out from behind a newspaper. The mousey white
Speaker 2: woman shifted in her seat, buried her face in a
Speaker 2: highlights magazine. Listen to this. We believe that black people
Speaker 2: should not be forced to fight in the military service
Speaker 2: to defend a racist government that does not protect us.
Speaker 2: We will not fight and kill other people of color
Speaker 2: in the world, who, like black people, are being victimized
Speaker 2: by the white, racist government of America. Blah blah blah.
Speaker 2: Can you believe any of this shit? The mousey woman
Speaker 2: had gathered her thing induct out of the door, an
Speaker 2: uneasy smile on her face. Huh, what's that from a
Speaker 2: wave of calmness brushed over Regina. The man had shown
Speaker 2: his hand. There was no mystery left, just her and him.
Speaker 2: He folded the newspaper calmly and tucked it into his
Speaker 2: tan leather satchel. He took his glasses off. I have
Speaker 2: a feeling, he said, giving his temples a deep massage.
Speaker 2: He looked directly at her, locking eyes. Regina clinched her jaw.
Speaker 2: I have a feeling. You already know where this is from,
Speaker 2: don't you. It's not exactly esoteric knowledge. I mean, I
Speaker 2: know this is a small town in good old North Carolina.
Speaker 2: But I bet you've heard of some of these kooks,
Speaker 2: the weather Underground, one group calling themselves the what was it,
Speaker 2: Simbonese Liberation Army, people like Joanne Chesamar Geronimo Pratt. I
Speaker 2: know you've heard of them. What do you want, Regina demanded, calmly,
Speaker 2: raising her voice to crest over his got I've got
Speaker 2: work to do. I've got to wrap these croissants. I know,
Speaker 2: I know, I'm sorry, he insisted. Listen here, here's my
Speaker 2: card if you ever want to talk. He held the
Speaker 2: card out toward her, but she stayed there, frozen, arms crossed.
Speaker 2: I'm not with the FBI, I'm not with the government.
Speaker 2: I just I want was best for you, Regina. The
Speaker 2: sound of her name chilled her. I'm with an agency
Speaker 2: that can help you and your child. Child, Regina, Child, Regina, child, Regina.
Speaker 2: We can help you. Our experiments with getting people like you, criminals,
Speaker 2: terrorists into our deep programming tanks have been highly successful.
Speaker 2: We can offer you total immunity with your compliance. She
Speaker 2: had been so careful. She watched the men rise his
Speaker 2: coat over his arm, satchel tight across his body, and really, Regina,
Speaker 2: there's nothing to think about. Just we're trying to help you.
Speaker 2: If we don't hear from you in forty eight hours,
Speaker 2: we will call the police. It's that simple. And he left,
Speaker 2: no take care, no scene, ceiling quips. He simply left
Speaker 2: and disappeared down a quaint street, where he got into
Speaker 2: a black car that sat there for a minute before
Speaker 2: turning onto a windy road through the college campus. When
Speaker 2: Gina locked the door, ran to a payphone. Now do
Speaker 2: it now, she screamed into the phone. She did not
Speaker 2: wait for the last bus as she normally would. She
Speaker 2: ran home power walked through the white neighborhoods. The moonchased
Speaker 2: her as the sun disappeared into the seams of dust.
Speaker 2: I'm Maya, she screams. A tube is in her arm.
Speaker 2: There's a man in a white lab coat standing at
Speaker 2: the foot of the bed reading a chart. Three pairs
Speaker 2: of black arms are resting on hers. Mother is in
Speaker 2: the corner. The man in the lab coat jumps as
Speaker 2: Maya stirs awake. You're awake. Welcome back to the world,
Speaker 2: Miss Maya. The black faces belonging to the black hands echo,
Speaker 2: Miss Maya. The doctor corrects himself. Sorry, this is well,
Speaker 2: it's paul new to me, he laughs nervously. They certainly
Speaker 2: don't teach this kind of stuff in medical school. He
Speaker 2: returns to his chart. Brown eyes in a flock of
Speaker 2: blurry brown faces narrow at him. The brown eyes and
Speaker 2: brown faces turned back to Maya. Where's Amari? Amari? One
Speaker 2: of them asks, girl, who is Amari? He almost died,
Speaker 2: miss thing. Why are you always fighting white boys? Girl?
Speaker 2: How is he? They all look at each other. The
Speaker 2: girls squint and shake their heads, shrugged their shoulders. One
Speaker 2: of them, an older one, says, how do you know Amari,
Speaker 2: skinny Puerto Rican pretty boy? Convogue for days? Mother? How
Speaker 2: she know Amari? That was way before your time? In
Speaker 2: this house? Where is he? Maya insists her jaw is
Speaker 2: a swollen, pulpy mash of flesh, and teeth cuts lace
Speaker 2: her forehead. Where is Amari? Amari? The older one slowly speaks,
Speaker 2: Mari is dead, child. He died of pneumonia two years ago. Seven.
Speaker 2: We want an immediate end to police brutality and murder
Speaker 2: of black people. The door exploded open. Gina rushed from
Speaker 2: room to room, calling out her child's name. A young
Speaker 2: woman in a dashiki stood at the kitchen table. Regina,
Speaker 2: She exclaimed, Regina, I've taken care of it. You're all packed, Crystal,
Speaker 2: I need a car now. Look, okay, you not going
Speaker 2: to just come running up in here yelling at me.
Speaker 2: The two women stopped, breathed, A tear flowed down Crystal's eye.
Speaker 2: I'm sorry, Crystal, where Crystal pointed a shaky finger up
Speaker 2: the steps. Regina tore up the steps and stopped by
Speaker 2: the child's room, so small she thought no time. She
Speaker 2: ran to her room. Searching for her bags. A suitcase
Speaker 2: flush with the steel and forced back and wheels about Yahai.
Speaker 2: She tore it open and discarded all of the clothes,
Speaker 2: wieled it back to the other room, grabbed the child
Speaker 2: by the arm, thrust the kid into the suitcase, zipped
Speaker 2: it up, and climbed out the window. Crystal Regina thought
Speaker 2: to herself, you know what to do. In the living
Speaker 2: room down stairs, Crystal lit a match. She shrugged and
Speaker 2: sniffed through some tears. She watched the flame dance a bit,
Speaker 2: a small bulb licking the air, longing to touch something,
Speaker 2: to grow wilder calmed her a bit. She tossed the
Speaker 2: match onto an old ready couch. It was soon engulfed
Speaker 2: in flames. It's dark tight. Every few minutes there's a
Speaker 2: bump and a bigger bump. The small bumps go unnoticed.
Speaker 2: A strong stick pokes through the darkness bricks. The arm
Speaker 2: sounds vibrate through thin canvas walls, filling the air with
Speaker 2: a redolent creepiness. There are only snatches of them. A
Speaker 2: chorus of men laughing and show nothing. All muffled bass,
Speaker 2: a radio buzzing like small insects, A heavy humming car
Speaker 2: engine that sometimes sputters, sounding like distant fireworks over a
Speaker 2: calm field. Can breathe through a hole just above head
Speaker 2: if neck cranes just a tad, can see stars flit
Speaker 2: by an a static kaleidoscope. Suddenly there's no ground. It's
Speaker 2: floating in space, drifting for a second or two until
Speaker 2: landing in a huff. A long stillness, no sound. Something
Speaker 2: pokes a tiny hole that reveals the black sky. Something snickers,
Speaker 2: gnashes quietly, a sound like thin translucent paper tearing, Then
Speaker 2: a loud rip, and it's as if someone has unzipped
Speaker 2: the universe and opened up the blackness into another dimension.
Speaker 2: Standing before in a clean press suit, its sparkly eyes
Speaker 2: gleaming sunk into its bobbing, fat white head as a rabbit,
Speaker 2: Hey there, gasps with a start. Pardon me, lad, yes, yes,
Speaker 2: could you just yes, just a bit there. The rabbit
Speaker 2: enters into the cramp space, gently pushing to one side
Speaker 2: and zipping the suit case back up. Hi bouncy bunny esquire,
Speaker 2: it is just The bunny adjusts its bow tie, pats
Speaker 2: down the suit, checks its pocket watch, all while folding
Speaker 2: itself around time and space. Well, it's just fantimically tastic
Speaker 2: a Roney to finally meet you heard so much about
Speaker 2: yet the ranch and shakes and tremendously. We're going to
Speaker 2: have some fun, aren't we, old chum.
Speaker 3: And I think that's where we're going to leave it
Speaker 3: for this week. At this fantastic moment, not just a
Speaker 3: fantastic moment, a fan tibbally tastic a Rooney moment in
Speaker 3: this story, dear listener, both of us spent a long
Speaker 3: time trying to figure out exactly how to pronounce fantom
Speaker 3: bibili tastic a Rooney in order to bring me to
Speaker 3: this story.
Speaker 2: It was hard.
Speaker 3: Yeah, this story is fascinating. I like didn't like psychedelic
Speaker 3: fiction all that much when I was a kid. I
Speaker 3: think it has to do with my own personal neurotype
Speaker 3: where I was like everything has to make sense and
Speaker 3: it should be in order, you know. And I've come
Speaker 3: around in the past couple of years and like just
Speaker 3: the stuff that Alex is doing throughout this, like the
Speaker 3: idea that when this little kid is completely disassociated from themselves,
Speaker 3: they don't even have a name, right, They have like
Speaker 3: static instead of a name, and they don't even have
Speaker 3: a pronoun right, there's just static instead of a pronoun.
Speaker 3: They don't have an identity, and so they like meet
Speaker 3: this bunny and I think with the like it's Maya. Now,
Speaker 3: I'm assuming she transitions and joins the vogue scene, right
Speaker 3: the scene. Okay, that's my read on what's happening.
Speaker 2: Yeah, I mean, I I love how intimate all of
Speaker 2: this writing feels. How I think one of my favorite
Speaker 2: scenes so far was definitely that diner scene. I mean,
Speaker 2: I guess the diner scene where she meets.
Speaker 3: The non fed.
Speaker 2: Yeah, yeah, the non fed and like we can test
Speaker 2: you and deprogram you. And I just find like the
Speaker 2: psychedelic nature of this. I think it really suits like
Speaker 2: the times, like trying to think through all of the
Speaker 2: kind of mind altering experiences people were having. And I
Speaker 2: mean there's definitely like a clear kind of theme of
Speaker 2: trauma and how these characters are dealing with and processing
Speaker 2: trauma or like the traumas that they're running away from.
Speaker 2: And I feel like writing that provides a filter through
Speaker 2: which the main character, the narrator, is seeing the world.
Speaker 2: I think it just makes it that much more effective
Speaker 2: because it's like these people are trying to survive these
Speaker 2: social systems, these traumas, these other elements happening around them,
Speaker 2: and it makes sense that reality is kind of breaking
Speaker 2: apart totally.
Speaker 3: Yeah, I've always assumed that if I, like in really
Speaker 3: bad situations, my go to is just to stop interacting
Speaker 3: with reality properly, you know, which I don't know. It
Speaker 3: ties into prison. As we were talking about the very
Speaker 3: beginning to work. Yeah, well, we're going to do way
Speaker 3: more talking about this story once the story is done,
Speaker 3: which is going to be after next week, because this
Speaker 3: was only part one of two, and we'll be back
Speaker 3: next week to finish up what we want, what we
Speaker 3: believe by Alex Smith. And who's Alex Smith? You might
Speaker 3: be asking. I want to know more about Alex Smith,
Speaker 3: you might be asking, And fortunately we have a bio.
Speaker 3: Alex Smith aka Alexoteric is a writer, artist, curator, musician
Speaker 3: that gets an Air quotes, musician, slash noise maker. Living
Speaker 3: in the cosmically kinetic city of Philadelphia. His work reflects
Speaker 3: that dichotomy. Stark beautiful, wrought with afrotopian tension, avant garde
Speaker 3: fashion and assemblage, and dynamic visual presentation. His sci fi
Speaker 3: inspired worlds collide with afro queer and radical reimaginings of
Speaker 3: the fantastic. He is a founding member of the Philadelphia
Speaker 3: based sci fi arts collective Metropolarity, a central personnel in
Speaker 3: Philadelphia's early afrofuturist community, from collage work to zines, to
Speaker 3: bands and solo music performances, to promoting other bands and
Speaker 3: performers via curation and cultural critique and arts reporting, Smith
Speaker 3: transcends the concept of renaissance man and works from the
Speaker 3: afrofuturist vision all things, all the time, each aspect of
Speaker 3: his work in forming the other. Smith won the twenty
Speaker 3: twenty Pugh Fellowship of the Arts, presenting works such as
Speaker 3: his short story collection Arc dust Roserium Publishing, which, by
Speaker 3: the way, is where you can find this story if
Speaker 3: you want to read it, because sometimes with like psychedelic work,
Speaker 3: you might want to read it too. Writ his experimental
Speaker 3: art punk bands Rainbow Crimes, Solarized, Spectral Forces, Glitch Proverbs,
Speaker 3: the cyberpunk superhero indie comic book series Black Vans, among others.
Speaker 3: His work appears in anthologies such as Stories for Chip,
Speaker 3: a tribute to Samuel R. Delaney, Rosarium, Black Quantum Futurism,
Speaker 3: Volume two, black Punk Now Soft Skull and the Black
Speaker 3: Fantastic Library of America. He invites you to join him
Speaker 3: in the chromatic exploration of the unknown, his art a
Speaker 3: visual portal to that limital space. You can find Alex
Speaker 3: Atpatreon dot com, slash they are Birds or they Are
Speaker 3: Birds on Instagram and my guest co host my reader
Speaker 3: this week talking to me about this fun story. Prince.
Speaker 3: Where can people find you?
Speaker 2: People can find me on social media on Instagram, I
Speaker 2: am Sweet Black Prince. I also do a YouTube channel
Speaker 2: where I share a lot of political education video essays
Speaker 2: about organizing direct action. That's just my name, Prince Shakoor.
Speaker 2: You can also find me through the podcast that I
Speaker 2: mentioned earlier, the Dugout of Black Anarchists podcast and Yeah Yeah.
Speaker 3: As for me, you can find me on the internet too,
Speaker 3: Margaret Kiljoy, I have a newsletter I write almost every
Speaker 3: week and take care of each other. Fuck Ice so far,
Speaker 3: at every prison so and every dead Men Free.
Speaker 1: It could happen here as a production of cool Zone Media.
Speaker 1: For more podcasts from cool Zone Media, visit our website
Speaker 1: cool Zonemedia dot com or check us out on the
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Speaker 1: you can find sources for it could happen here, Updated
Speaker 1: monthly at coozonemedia dot com slash sources. Thanks for listening.