Forget what it sounds like for a minute, let’s consider the spirit of rock and roll: Rebellious. Energetic. Vocal. Independent. Driven. Unapologetic. Powerful. They’re characteristics I could attribute to damn-near every sister I know.
In fact, my personal Who’s Who of Rock and Roll is stacked with bomb Black women. Betty Davis. Grace Jones. Tina Turner. Aretha Franklin. Nona Hendryx. Poly Styrene. Joan Armatrading. Joyce Kennedy… and that’s just 1976-77.
So why do so many people go out of their way to marginalize or flat-out disregard Black women as both pioneers and torchbearers of rock? Why are we so indifferent to the fact that more than a few African-American women strapped an instrument to their back and helped carry the genre from the fields to the church to the juke joint to the charts to a multimillion-dollar industry?
Probably because someone told us it wasn’t ours and we chose to believe it. They said it was devil’s music, so we cast it out. We let it go because someone gave it white skin, a penis, and the green light to cross boundaries that Black people couldn’t. And in so doing, they convinced the world that our pioneers didn’t deserve equal recognition, equal exposure or equal ownership.
— Black Women In Rock: If Sister Rosetta Tharpe is too old school for you, then maybe Santigold flips your wig. Either way, sisters have been part of rock music for as long as guitar feedback’s been loud (via blackrockandrollmusic)
Ran across a quote on Chuck Wendig’s blog post that SCREAMED to me when I read it, because I hadn’t seen this aspect of myself crystallized and named before:-
It’s frustrating to be not-that-good because you feel like, this is what you want to do, and you need to justify that desire now by putting out top-shelf, high-octane writing.
This is SO me; I have a HARD time looking at stuff I wrote that’s rough notes or unpolished, first draft, etc. Because then if it’s not gem-polished jewel great, I’m shit or wasting my time. I can’t justify the effort if I’m not doing high octane stuff right off the bat.
Also; I’m finishing what I start.
Because you don’t get done, improve any other way.
Abyss & Apex is at Issue 50! 2nd Quarter 2014
EDITORIAL: Our 50th Edition by Wendy S. Delmater
“Structural Elements” by Debi Carroll
“Remember” by Leah Rhyne
“With a Paper Heart” by Thomas K. Carpenter
“Child of Moon and Sea” by Sherri Cook Woosley
“To See Sarah” by Jennifer Campbell-Hicks
“Daft Old Man” by Pam L. Wallace
Introduction to the April 2014 Poetry of Abyss & Apex
The Slow Gods by David Barber
“These fences” by Simon Perchik
Origins by Sylvia Ashby
A Brief Suspension of All History #32 and #33 by Darren C. Demaree
Life As a Starship Nav System by Noel Sloboda
Sorcerers in Space by Larry Hodges
Beyond the Tempest Gate by by Jeff Suwak
Fires of Man: Book 1 of the Psionic Earth Series by Dan Levinson
Remember Natasha from previous snippets? Well, she’s starting to rub shoulders with persons that make the main character of my novel get chills.
My breath hitched involuntarily in my throat; my fears for Natasha rose sharply. I was wary of their unabashed, obvious beauty. That did not come without a caveat in my sort of existence; there lay—and I was yet to determine what sort of—danger.
Me (typing lyrics to Robyn’s ‘Call your girlfriend’): CALL YOUR GIRLFRIEND
Me: IT’S TIME YOU’VE HAD THE TALK
Me: GIVE YOUR REASONS
Me: SAY IT’S NOT HER FAULT
IronicKnight: How do I talk to my right hand?
It’s been a long time; far, too long, and to come back again, I have a snippet. A really short snippet this time.
The main character of my novel-in-progress is in a strange place, where haunts roam and don’t hide. She’s looking for someone she’s sworn to protect. She spies people, some good, some… bad. Some are baddies she’s tousled with before.
A goateed man walked past me with only a suit vest, tattoos on his bare arms and one hand, a do-rag with white trim, and eyes like pale glass. I wonder how he managed to get those eyes. I didn’t ask.
The twins were here. SkullScarf and BallBraids.