Allergies/Evolution?

Sometimes I wonder if people with food allergies are just elite. I imagine that it is just an evolutionary advantage developed through centuries of realizing what is good for you and what isn’t. Think about it, your ancestors were so developed that they trained their throats to close up or throw food back up because they realized the dangers it may pose in the future. I am sure there are tons of studies on this type of thing and a logical answer, but I prefer to believe that the ancestors just snapped.

That nose was made for snorting

Have you ever noticed that some noses are just naturally suited to snorting drugs? The nostrils flare perfectly and create the ideal vacuum for inhalation. The philtrum is seated in just the right spot to ensure there is enough space for straws, bills, and eventually powders to enter the nose. These people are blessed and cursed to do nose drugs.

Ugly talks Parenthood

thot daughter or Son who posts “I’m 13 but this is Real music” in the youtube comments of old J Cole songs,,,

It’s like a new signing!

One of the greatest football managers of all time, Arsene Wenger, had many interesting beliefs, one of which was that a player returning from a lengthy injury would be like a new signing for the team. I believe that the same logic applies to clothing. When the seasons change and you start pulling out the knits and jackets that you haven’t seen in months, it’s like a new signing! When you finally get the holes stitched up in your favorite pants, it’s like a new signing! When you finally take that white shirt with the dutty stains to the cleaners? It’s like a new signing! Sometimes you don’t need to dive into the transfer market when you’ve got players on the injury table!

UGLY SPEAKS TRUTH TO POWER

he’s making a documentary about Dr Sebi!! That’s why the Feds are going after my man Donald Trump, ya’ll not paying attention!

Dead? fr???

As someone who practices a particular religion, the afterlife is outlined pretty clearly in our holy book. If you’re a good lad, you go to the spa in the sky for eternity. If you’re a naughty Nancy, you end up in the hottest after’s every, forever. I have a few of my own theories, most of which have come from my use of various psychedelics, most importantly DMT.

The experience was pretty short, but it felt even shorter. What felt like 15 seconds turned out to be 15 minutes. I was in a daze, but one thing that I recalled was looking around the room and seeing the chakras of everyone around me. Keep in mind that before this, I had no idea what a chakra was or what it would look like. It was just a word I heard in hotep raps. Regardless, there I was, seeing the energy centers of friends and strangers. It was cool, but also the only time I attempted DMT. No one man should have all that power fr fr fr.

Back to death. DMT has also been found to be present in mammals, including humans. Specifically in our pineal gland. More than half of the total amount of DMT produced by acidophilic cells in the pineal gland is secreted before and during death.

Now I ain’t no scientist or nuthin but here’s my hypothesis- In the moments before death, you enter a dreamlike state, induced by the DMT. You remain in this state for only a few minutes/seconds, of course, but within your consciousness, it lasts forever. You dream forever about the life you lived. Positive life = positive vibes, and vice versa. Idk, that makes sense to me, but I don’t make sense to most.

UGLY IS AN OPTIMIST

“There are cathedrals everywhere for those with eyes to see.” yeah, Sure buddy,,,, the inherent majesty of our shared existence never did not nothin’ for nobody

We’re Losing Recipes!

The rent is being raised, and the bar is closing. With it, no more Magic Mondaze, half-off burgers on Wednesday, Saturday night caps, and no more Looking Glass Lounge. Sadly, it’s a theme that has become far too familiar to the regulars and bartenders of Looking Glass Lounge. It wasn’t too long ago that DC Reynolds, whose buy one, get one free happy hour made it legendary amongst DC residents, closed down for similar reasons a few doors over. Similar to DC Reynolds, Looking Glass’ fate was decided by a landlord and market that decrees that every cent must be squeezed out of the walls that house it. No compromise to keep a 15-year establishment and community fixture was to be had. That isn’t to say that the workers and clientele of the bar didn’t maximize the potential of the space. Not an inch of the walls isn’t covered with a portrait, mirror, poster, or a Riz the Great Don’t Trip sticker. Not an inch of the bar was wasted; there is the upstairs dancefloor, the kitchen, the booths, the back patio, the barstools, the speakers, the upstairs and downstairs bars, and the people who fill in the gaps.

To learn more about the people who filled the gaps, we interviewed Looking Glass bartender Odunayo Fabunmi

What makes working at Looking Glass different?
Working at LG is different for me than other bars in the way where there aren’t that many rules to limit us from bringing our personalities to the days we’re assigned to work. Some people may come in for a day, their favorite bartender is working or because they love the music taste of the bartender playing music throughout the shift. The fact that we can play our own music and don’t have to adhere to a specific playlist all the time is truly a luxury most bartenders don’t have. And the locals themselves also makes work- ing at LG different because we have people that come in damn near every day. Even
on slow days, we can rely on our locals to never let us have a “boring” shift or feel like we’re not making any money because they also tip well. It’s a beautiful understanding between bar and patron that we coexist and one can’t do without the other. As a bartender, I don’t really need to get into the details of the stress that comes with bartending, but Looking Glass alleviates most of that stress by not micromanaging like in other bars that I have worked and currently work at.

What is DC losing with the closing of Looking Glass?
With the closing of Looking Glass, DC is losing ANOTHER location where local and mainstream can coexist peacefully with the rest of the world. We get a lot of local creatives that see Looking Glass as a hub to casually enjoy their down time throughout the day. We’ve had plenty of mainstream celebrities from Chaz French, Ari Lennox, and Donnell Rawlings to the local celebrities like Sir EU and UCB band, bless us with their presence and patronage. It’s almost like a TV show of that place “where everybody knows your name,” but nobody is above the next person. We’re here to have a couple of drinks and have a good time. Most other places in DC still operate with that veil of chasing clout, that it’s impossible to recreate the safe space that LG has. There aren’t many safe spaces like that left.

What did DC gain by having Looking Glass in it?
Other than the best cast of down-to-earth bartenders, DC has benefited a lot from just the history alone that’s behind Looking Glass and its former identities. With so much gentrification happening in the whole district, it’s rare that you find places that preserve historical pieces of DC. If not for just being an amazing establishment for any and everyone, it has given a lot of people purpose and fulfillment no other city can match.

Do you have a favorite Looking Glass Memory?
My favorite memory of Looking Glass would have to be one of the holiday parties we hosted. We would hire a bartender from a sister bar or someone we know very well
and have them work as we invite all the employees, friends, and family, and we pretty much just have an amazing time. Yes, of course, there’s a lot of inebriation, but during the holiday seasons, it’s well deserved. I won’t say too much, but trust and believe the holiday parties at the end of this year will overtake and become my new favorite memories. (Also with New Year’s Eve being our last day open and my birthday being on New year’s. I have no doubt it’ll be like Project X)

Do you have any plans for what’s next?
I do. I can’t speak for all of us, and that may be the hardest part to swallow, really. I also work at another bar in Ivy City called Vera. It’s amazing. I like it, and I’ll probably be working more days there. But it sure doesn’t feel good knowing not everyone has that same net to fall back on. We’re doing our best to help each other land on our feet after the dust clears, but until everyone is secure, I try not to speak on what I’ll do afterwards as far as work is involved. But I will be taking a vacation when the new year starts and revisit some talents and endeavors that I neglected so that I can make a living. I still have music to work on. I have projects with different bands that were meticulously putting together. And I still want to put some time to finishing my African Space Odyssey novel that I’ve been writing for god knows how long now.
I can say for sure 2024 is going to be different.

If you have anything else you want to say about looking glass feel free to write it here:
Well, first things first. I am entirely grateful for Looking Glass and almost everyone that works there for all of the love, motivation, support, memories, hardships, revelations, and magic that we were able to share together. I was struggling down bad during the pandemic while taking care of my sick mother when LG threw a Hail Mary and hired me on the team. That was a chance I didn’t think I would get from anywhere at the time, so it truly changed my perspective on a lot. And for the two years I worked there all the way until my mother passed, I was surrounded by love and support. I was constantly reminded of me, the good, the bad, and everything in between. Had it not been for Looking Glass, I would have succumbed to the intense grief and pain of losing the person who loved me most. And this has nothing to do with bartending, DC, or anything really outside of the fact that I was in pieces and there were people who loved me enough to try and put me back together. Of course, i had family to do the same, but i live very far from almost everyone in my immediate family, so my people at LG taking said initiative means a lot more to me. For that, there’s no greater sentiment that I can express to them other than my utmost gratitude. This surely won’t be the end of LG. They say Home is Where The Heart Is, be we say IF YOU DRINK AT LOOKING GLASS YOU LIVE FOREVER!

THREE WINES I DRANK THIS YEAR

I have to assume that the last year of my life has been guided by some freaky little cosmic force that I don’t know, yet has entrusted me anyway with so many beautiful experiences to deepen my love for wine.

At its core, wine is an agricultural product, and if you let it breathe for a second (and maybe you’re not drinking homogenized bulk wine found in the grocery store but I’m not judging!) you’ll find resonating in the bottle a whole story of land and its people. How fucking cool is it that we get to drink wine and in one bottle understand so much history: the choices that farmers and winemakers had to make in response to the climate and economic conditions, or maybe more importantly the choices they didn’t make in spite of what made conventional sense in order to pursue some supernatural sense of resilience and trust in their own God-given skill.

In the last six weeks I’ve met wine producers and had opportunities to dive into their stories from very privileged perspectives, and for that I’m grateful. Now I’m just gonna reflect on the other side of that product: what it’s like to drink it, and some of my favorite moments doing that this year.

The Christening of the Mount Pleasant Home
Virginia Coferment Tram-Cham-Bapple’ 2022

When I moved into my apartment perched at the top of Mount Pleasant in August I just got this sense that I finally found home as an adult. I think graduating college in December 2019 just to slide right into a pandemic sorta stunted that sense of establishing my own rhythms and moving my inner child to a new phase of life. But something about the windows looking out to the National Cathedral, the quirky pendant lights, and being in a home with two of my favorite Taurean women (Jess, roommate; Neptune, cat) feels like home in a new way.

Our first meal we hosted here was a late-summer crab feast. I hadn’t had a chance to sit down for crabs in almost two years, dawg. That’s too long. So we made makeshift table covers with Whole Foods/Trader Joe’s bags, Jess made this bombass pasta salad, and I picked up wine and crabs.

I had a loose sense that Tram-Cham-Bapple was right for the job but now that I re- flect on the whole situation, it made sense the entire time. This is a stew of two hybrid grapes, Traminette and Chambourcin, which are like these sexy, tasty twins coming to end vitis vinifera’s tyrannical reign in the East Coast, plus indigenous Ruby Red crab apples, all coming from Virginia. You absolutely can’t anticipate what happens in the glass. The texture from skins is hypnotic, the apple leaves this sense of sweetness, and Tram-Cham’s got this juicy fruit overripeness that feels so warm and friendly. The wine itself is partially made by my friend Ben, someone I wholly admire in the Virgin- ia wine scene today because he is (1) very smart, (2) extremely dedicated to the ex- perimental, and (3) is a certified ally in opening up natural wine production to BIPOC, queers, and all others who aren’t the typical Natty Wine Bros TM.

I glugged down that Tram-Cham-Bapple and picked crabs like my mom taught me, and like we’ve done every year since I was old enough to sit up. There was this synergy between the local fruit in the bottle and the piles of Chesapeake crab meat I was hoarding in my butter dish. And it totally makes sense: Redefining my sense of home in my big age of 25 isn’t this crazy endeavor full of unknowns. The best comfort comes from embracing who I am and what I’ve come to love living in the land I’ve always known. Chesapeake girl at heart <3

If My Therapist Still Took My Insurance I Would Have Set Up An Appointment Right Then To Process This With Her
Iapetus Wines’ Figure 03 Petnat

In January my then-boyfriend took a trip up to Vermont with his best friend to do some skiing and generally get into some winter cozy vibes. We had been together for threeish months at this point but he’s a Sagittarius and I was just about used to his constant adventuring already. At that point our relationship had a strong foundation of our shared love for exploring food and wine and beer, not just as an interest but as our lifeforce.

I had been obsessed with this label Iapetus since I tried one of their orange wines at Domestique at a North American wine tasting. It’s a project of very thoughtful wines using fruit from Shelburne Vineyard to connect us in the present with everything that’s happened in the Champlain Valley in the last million or so years. It’s very fucking ME coded.

My first forreal-forreal relationship was a personal unraveling. I was living in the dis- comfort I had practiced unpacking with my therapist all 2021, including but not limited to, feeling desirable, owning what I need and saying it out loud, and generally feeling dysmorphic about being someone’s monogamous partner and being vulnerable enough to give someone literally any fucking clue about how to show love to me instead of being an elusive goblin. At the end of 2021 my therapist chose to stop taking my insurance, and I just didn’t find it critical to pay out of pocket for our once-a-month kikis (though I miss you and still think about you, Lyssa).

The day he came back from Vermont I drove to his house and he unearthed all the good shit he brought back, including that only-in-Vermont drip like farmhouse ales, cheeses, cured meats, coffee, and just for me, the Iapetus red Petnat, literally spar- kling with glittering bubbles floating across the red lake in the bottle. This was the first red Petnat I had ever gotten to hold in my own hands. It had cranberries and blueberries, some citrus, and the most gorgeous coarse bubbles and it made me feel very vibrant.

And as I was marveling at the wine, the realization came crashing down that I was exposed. At some point the vulnerability had been on full display for this person, and I don’t know for how long. Like at what point did I let someone think it was okay to bring me a novelty bottle straight from this niche nerdy wine producer in Vermont that I love? Just as a nice thing to do for me? I crumbled inside and we crushed that bottle and we ate cheese and watched King of the Hill, probably.

Afters
Frontón de Oro Afrutado Blanco

Seeing how much fun my ex was having working in the restaurant industry full time was honestly reason number 1 or 2 that pushed me to quit my corporate job and get on the floor selling wine. February to March was a pretty terrifying time but I just felt that freaky little cosmic force pushing me deeper outside my comfort zone. I was es- sentially working two full time jobs as I transitioned out from the corporate role, pull- ing marketing reports during the mornings, studying my ass off trying to get the wine list down during lunch, then testing on everything I was learning at the restaurant in the evenings. I wanted to unalive myself!

One of the wines on the list at the restaurant that spring, the Afrutado from Frontón de Oro, was so fucking good. Like a Dole fruit cup but fresh and topped with the finest fresh coconut juice and a kiss of acid. It comes in this gem blue bottle straight from
La Lechuza in Gran Canaria, Spain, a part of the world I didn’t even know made wine commercially until this year. It was wild how so quickly my plan to work in a restau- rant full-time was already blowing everything I thought I understood about wine out of the water. I felt like I was barely treading that water trying to keep up with the curriculum, let alone completely upending my normal reality to really pursue this life.

I feel a lot of joy when I think about the Afrutado because it was one of the wines on
the table the first time I hung out with my coworkers after service, something I was near-desperate for as I was struggling to find where exactly I belong in this big wide world. We crowded on an Adams Morgan park picnic table late at night quite literally in the dark splitting Big Macs, nuggets, and fries and slurping Michelin-worthy wine out of delis. Afrutado and Sweet and Sour are literally meant for each other. The high and low merging together is really what makes life worth living.

I know that working at a restaurant isn’t sustainable for me long-term but I’m so fucking grateful I get paid to have fun and do bullshit like sell and write about wine.

Bitch, I Mothered

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d read her bedtime stories.
Sing her our ancestors’ songs
Give her Besos and hold her until she fell asleep-feeling safe.

I’d teach her how to ask for what she wants and thank her when she does.

I’d hold her every time she cried.
Every single time.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d teach her how to do her hair.
I’d teach her to cornrow, french braid, twist & moisturize.
I’d let her straighten her hair when she got older.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d teach her how to reach within her belly and breathe.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d take her to the park and push her on the swing.
I’d plan play dates with Moms who annoy me.
I’d take her on walks and let her collect pine cones after they had fallen from the
trees and show her the helicopter leaves.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
She would grow up relaxed.
She would grow up knowing, Mothering her was calming. Healing even. She would get to
be a child.
She would know emotional freedom.
She would recognize peace.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
These curses might not be so hard to break. Change might not be so hard to stand on.
It might even feel
Safe.

If I were my Mother’s, Mother
I’d Mother her how she Mothered me.

If I Mothered my Mother that way,
maybe her best would’ve been good enough.

Yet here I am Mothering anyway. ~k.C

Best,
Kayla Calvin

To Whom It May Concern:

When I first started writing, it was solely expressive. It was the way I gave myself a voice. I would always write like I was talking to someone, like someone was listening. Almost like a letter. It was how I made sense of my emotions and released my anxieties. My phone was a way for me to do this quickly. I would write them in my email. I think it made me feel like I was really addressing the person or people I had in mind. Like they had to listen to me. In all of my pieces I’m talking to someone. Sometimes even myself. There is always someone in mind.
When I started sharing my words I was tired of not being heard, ignored, and misunderstood. I was disappointed in myself for letting that be the reason I didn’t use my voice. It was my way of pressing send on all those emails. This, was the next step.

I hope after reading this you press send and never hold your tongue again, to whomever it may concern: Enjoy.

To:
Cc/Bcc:
Subject: UGLY

Stretching my voice across every wall
of these 650 square feet.

I’m ugly with you.
As my tears hum us to sleep.

I’m ugly with you.
Birthing a new mind as our first child.

I’m ugly with you
Unburying a life that still lingers.

I’m ugly with you.
As I lay it down again and cover it with soil.

I’m ugly with you.
I even watered it, then asked you to do so too.

I’m ugly with you.
Showed you all my dirty roots; with the hope
that you’d want to replant ‘em, brand new.

I’m triflin’
Being ugly with you, waiting for your ugly too.
Sent from my iPhone
k.C.

To:
Cc/Bcc:
Subject: Babygirl

She deserved love of the purest kind.
God gave it to her.

I judged her before, but
I get it now.

Tragedy washed away with
New innocence

But you give too much of yourself - with faith,
And a romanticized idea of reality;
Then expect the same in return

You only break your own heart.
Sent from my iPhone
k.C.

To:
Cc/Bcc:
Subject: Lost&Found

I miss you while you’re here
Because it never lasts.
You never stay

But somehow when you come back
I’m sure it’s a forever thing.

The war you hold me
I feel it in my belly.

The way you kiss me while I sleep makes me
Forget I ever went without you
I think I actually like you

And that’s the only way I could ever love again.
Shit.

I wanna sit in the sun with you.

Sent from my iPhone,
kC.

PUT ON

REEBOK BEATNICK $120

The coziest sandals you will buy. Originally released in 1995, they have seen a resurgence in recent years, partially thanks to the global event that caused everyone to put more value in cozy attire. The aggressive shark tooth-like outsole and closed-toe quilted upper make this the most comfortable sandal for your money.

Anonymous Ism Socks $20

Here at bigFACTS, we value comfort over anything. Luckily, these socks from the Japanese brand Anonymous Ism are both cozy and beautiful. With rib knitting and thick Japanese cotton, they put your feet in a soft, warm embrace that you will never want to end.

The Color University Trucker Hat

TCU is a super innovative streetwear brand based out of DC. Their designs and collections seem to be heavily inspired by BBCICECREAM, Pastelle, and mid to late 2000s streetwear. The trucker hat is clearly influenced by those worn by Pharrell in the aughts, but TCU has added its own touch with its signature cherub logo embroidered onto the top of the hat. Good luck buying one as they usually sell out in hours, but if you do, we recommend accessorizing with some pins to add a personal touch. This hat is the DC cool-kid calling card!

Carpet Company T-shirt $38

After a whirlwind 2021 that included a Nike SB collab and a collection with Turnstile, the hottest punk band out, the Habibis at carpet have taken a more tempered approach to their releases this year. This hasn’t stopped them from releasing beautiful graphic t-shirts. The weight, quality, and graphics on their shirts put Carpet above all similar brands.

EAT!

MAKETTO: Crystal Shrimp Dumplings

These are the absolute best dumplings in the City. Steamed and served in a small bowl, these are the perfect light appetizer. Like a little shrimpy pillow.

DOI MOI: Flash Fried Beef Jerky

The name does not do this dish justice at all. A half pound of tender steak strips is glazed in honey and topped with fresh cilantro and pickled vegetables, served with a sriracha dipping sauce. This is a great afternoon snack.

COMPASS ROSE: Spice Bag

The whole idea behind Compass Rose is a white woman travelling the world and bringing back her favorite dishes. This mainly works thanks to the diversity of the kitchen staff and the fact that most people don’t know how some of these dishes are supposed to taste. The menu changes occasionally, but one dish that has become a staple is the Irish Spice Bag. A simple dish made by deep-frying chicken thighs, fingerling potatoes, bell peppers, and onions. It is served in a cute paper bag and topped with Chinese five-spice with a spicy mayo on the side. This is the perfect thing to eat before or after a night of drunken debauchery, as the Irish are known to do.

Here.Me.Now

Listen baby, I don’t have time to waste
You see, I’m an immigrant in these here States
I have a few moments but not one to spare, ‘cause you see the game here ain’t fair
Back home there’s a freedom I can’t compare...
But I was brought here by mon père, arrivé avec mon frère, and was told this life was one to bear
Ever since then, I’ve been searching for the liberty which they speak of every morning in elementary
Didn’t find it in high school either and college turned out to be hell without liberties spell
Now they say I’ve got it on my own…
I’m grown
But I don’t know whether I should be an alien back home or continue to feel alienated here
So, I’m sorry my dear if I haven’t made it clear
The games you want to play will have to wait since I haven’t been made a proper place to sit
I’m not even allowed on the premises
Where can I unfold my arms and observe the race?
I know how these things go and you continue to stop me for these words
You implement these measures to calculate if you’re still ahead
Listen baby, I don’t have time to waste and all you do is wait...
My soul aches with every second of the clock winding down
Can’t you see there’s no more time?
We’ve fallen out of line and all you want to talk about is the dime
Baby there are no more times
Just this one Time and I will not let it go to waste
Freedom awaits
My love, true freedom awakes

Drought/Full

Where is my money?
The hospital asks me
Every fucking week
A new email that I delete

Where is my money?
Capital One asks me
I charged nearly $1200
And they ask more frequently
Fuck credit scores forreal
They don’t ever hear a peep from me

Where is my money?
Asks my credit union
They restricted my card over that lifeline
I have a few dollas but it still declines
While i’m out at the grocery checkout line

Where is my money?
Asks my school
Y’all already sent me that degree
If I pay you, I’d be a fool

Where is my money?
I have nothing to give
You want to take away
my right to live?

Where is my money?
I ask God
I did everything right
Applied to 64 jobs

Where is my money?
What do you want me to do?
I don’t scam, sell ass, or hook up hair do’s
(I aint mad at the hustle, go on make it do what it do)

Where is my money
Everybody want to know
But really fuck them all
I’m the one that needs the answer
I want to eat food without developing cancer
And sleep in my own shit

I’m generous with nothing
And appreciative of what I do have

Whats stopping the flow, man I don’t know
Whats stopping the flow
God please let me know

Don’t want to feel desperate
But I feel like a burden
Just tell me whats blocking
And I’ll be determined

To eliminate internal obstacles
feeding fuel of passion flows
Find some newness on the ground
Not suffering but got a frown
I wake up and pray

What’s blocking me?
Is it letting go of ain’t shit niggas I got on go?
Cause if that’s the case
I’ll kick they ass right out the door

What’s blocking me?
Just make it clear
You can put it in the music that I hear
Is it karmic transformation living out my fear?

It’s pouring down from me
Money everywhere all around me
Coming out my pockets
Coming out my socks
Dollar bill out my eyes
Pouring out my mouth

Money is my birthright
Money come to the light
Money my ancestors paid in blood and stripes

My money is near
My money is here
Money to live
And money to give
And it come right back
I’ll match my money and you hear about it again
I’ll match my money from the vibration within
I’ll bring money out of air
I’ll have money to do my hair
I’ve got money for it all
And it’s still very much fuck capitalism y’all

An Analysis of the Politics of Guava Island (2019)

I judge entertainment media based on how well it tests my listening skills. Today, I’m giving Guava Island (2019) flowers for its attempt to goad me into seeing a love story, while beyond this mirage is a modern analysis of imperialist violence painted in 16mm cinematography. Through the symbols represented by Deni, Kofi, Red, and the denizens of Guava Island, Guava Island tells a modern-day folk tale, weaving allegorical parallels to existing real-life dynamics established by European world supremacy.

Film Summary

In the midst of a festival organized by protagonist Deni in protest of the island’s abominable conditions, he is assassinated in an attempt to quell the spirit of the islanders & dismay further rebellion against the island’s political and economic elite. The heart of this story lies in the analogy of Deni representing the hope within the islanders who dream of change. Deni liberates the feeling of freedom within everyone he interacts with. His counterpart Kofi seems to represent the power of the islanders collectively. Her spirit isn’t broken by Deni’s murder, leading to the unraveling of Red’s control system and the collective catharsis of the islanders.
It’s important to note how this story connects the themes of political and economic power. This is a story about class oppression that doesn’t rely upon the modifier of American racial history, yet is a deeply pro-black movie. Guava Island analyzes the economic oppression that’s at the root of global political racism exercised by NATO against marginalized people around the world.
Like most modern first-world political leadership, Red’s entire understanding of the world is rooted in fear. This fear is what drives him to maintain a facade of order and control over the citizens. This fear is what makes it so important to keep Deni caged by any means necessary, but because Deni is capable of protecting himself from the fear Red attempts to provoke from him, his death results in the exponential increase of his influence.
Fear is an essential part of any successful empire. On Guava Island, not only do citizens fear Red, they fear the consequences of divergence from Red’s system; this fear is weaponized to keep the population in control. Deni’s protest exhibition in the cargo loading dock attempts to execute this concept: Deni’s performance gradually annoys a worker who’s been successfully brainwashed by the dream of free-market success. The performance pushes the worker to the point where he takes it upon himself to report Deni for disturbing the peace. This is a predatory capitalist system in action: Two individuals at similarly low rungs of the economic ladder are turned against each other because of their differing perspectives of what their situation means. The factory worker represents a character with idealistic goals that he feels are best achieved by playing the game of the system. This presents an unfortunate paradox where he’s forced into a position of seeing Deni, a character who outrightly resents the system, as an enemy who is a threat to his own progress because his progress is dependent upon the stability of the system. This essentially divides any potential for unity among the working class, thereby making the ruling class stronger and more in control of both sides.
A major theme repeated in this story is the idea that America is a concept more than simply a location: America exists as “anywhere where in order to get rich, you have to make someone else richer”. By the end of the film, Deni applies this law for his own purposes. By becoming a martyr for the sake of freedom, his wealth through the form of his legacy is cemented while he simultaneously enriches the souls of the islanders. Deni lived his life exclusively for his interpretation of freedom for the islanders; subsequently, this makes it impossible for Red to profit off of Deni’s death. Deni’s masterpiece was his success in becoming a teacher beyond simply a musician: His festival was a lesson that enlightened the islanders on what a successful protest looks like. As a result, Kofi and the islanders understood how to carry out his legacy appropriately and the conclusion of Guava Island sets the table for a conversation about the role of celebration as a critical part of mourning. Rather than grieve Deni’s execution silently, the collective pain and Deni’s massive reach provided an opportunity for the islanders to organize another protest, again utilizing the power of music in remembrance and celebration. Red’s intention for the death of Deni was to steal the people’s power from them. Ironically, Red is rendered powerless after realizing that Deni demonstrated the innate power the people held within themselves. By killing Deni, Red gave the people the opportunity to exercise this power through Deni’s example. Red’s number one strategy is stealing power. If that fails, his second strategy is buying it. His hold over the islanders is through stealing the power of their time and freedom. Red steals Deni’s power by forcing Deni to make music exclusively for Red’s enterprise. As Red begins to realize Deni taking his power back, he makes an attempt to purchase Deni’s power midway through the film by buying him off. Deni refuses the payout because it’s a divergence from his mission of liberation. Film producer Stephen Glover commented in a Huffington Post article that “the idea of Deni is really just looking at the major theme of capitalism and kind of the hero of that, the hero of a capitalist system.” Deni is the hero of a capitalist system because of his constant refusal to give or sell his power away. This stands in contrast to the man in the warehouse, who is willing to sell his power for the opportunity to realize his dream within the context of the capitalist system.

Film Analysis

When realizing that this story is an analogy reflective of modern-day neo-capitalist states; the film begs us to consider what side of the fence we stand on. Are we idealistic Deni’s who see the system and choose to rebel against it dynamically? Or are we the factory workers who’ve found appreciation for the opportunities that do exist and accept the costs that come with them as affordable? Maybe instead we’re the children Deni observes in the abandoned sanctuary- children with similar gifts to Deni, encouraged to take up the mantle and continue his mission in our own unique way. Or additionally, some of us might be Red’s soldiers, forced into an existence that strips us of our independence & places us in a position where the freedom that Deni embodies was depicted to feel so intangible that resentment for it grew until Deni became the natural enemy.
Shot in Cuba, Guava Island is cinematically stripped back with saturated colors on 16mm film. This creates a feeling of timelessness in a world that feels self-contained. Each piece of dialogue serves a purpose in narrating the story and each scene is layered with meaning. The weight of commercial responsibilities feels absent from this production, resulting in a film that’s an uncommon balance between linear and abstract.
The best part about this film is the way the story represents the intricacies of existence in a capitalist world system. Deni Maroon is a musician on Guava Island. Everyone on this island exists for the sake of adding value to Red. The exploitation of the citizens is a curse that Deni is able to break through his defiance against the system. This singular act of defiance unifies the people & leads to a revolution that Red is unable to control. In the midst of unwavering oppression, Deni’s sacrifice reminds the entire island of the power they truly have. Red runs the island like a business, so the people aren’t citizens, they’re employees. Their lives aren’t theirs and in varying degrees, they’ve been forced to sell their souls to Red’s enterprise. As part of the propaganda machine, Deni’s role on the island is one of the closest to Red’s in terms of power and influence. This effectively makes Deni Red’s main competitor. A great way to handle business competition is by exploring opportunities for partnerships, thus making the oligarchical consolidation of power easier. Guava Island expands on this idea- Deni is exploited massively as a weapon to keep the public brainwashed. He turns around and uses it to the advantage of the public to the dismay of Red.
Guava Island is a natural extension of “This Is America”. The genius of its utilization in Guava Island is in how the role of the performer is reversed. In the original This is America video, one of the many possible interpretations of the creative direction includes the idea that public figures in celebrity positions like that of Donald Glover exist to serve the primary function of being a perfect distraction to more pressing issues. This being said, it’s difficult to pin down Red’s real-life parallel; in today’s society on our 51-state island, it feels like Red’s physical presence is less immediately identifiable yet possibly even closer to our hearts and minds than in Guava. According to Stephen Glover, “The idea of Deni is really just looking at the major theme of capitalism and kind of the hero of that, the hero of a capitalist system.”
Capitalism is inherently about winning a war of ownership: Ownership of land, ownership of resources, ownership of ideas, and ownership of people. Deni’s character is a hero because he transmutes the paradigm and exposes the island as a banana republic where this war doesn’t have to exist. The collective power of the people of Guava Island is the antithesis of the labor machine; Deni’s death reminds the people that they have the power to end this war at any time.
This story isn’t perfect. Kofi feels underutilized as a character and it’s difficult to fully grasp what she symbolizes as a character beyond her role as Deni’s love interest. Nonetheless, we can make a vague connection between Deni’s external struggle and Kofi’s internal struggle but these questions are avoided in order to establish Deni’s mythos. Guava Island’s stylistic decisions and its quiet, static pacing are a nod to a bygone era of Pan-African political filmmaking dominated by the likes of Djibril Diop Mambety, Gaston Kaboré, and Bassek Ba Kobhio. It’s inspiring to see a film like this available to an American audience, as its existence itself feels like a form of protest in the face of the constant exploitative violence the American film industry typically works hard to disguise.

UGLY’S ADVENTURE’S IN HOSPITAL FINE DINING

Kaiser Permanente
They had the best sandwiches. Nothing special. They just tasted good, and they give you as many as you want. These white nurses were relentless in their pursuit of my sandwiches. I gained 2 pounds.
KAISER 7/10

Georgetown ER
These motherfuckers gave me full course meals, like all the fixings, shit was OD, but they tasted like plastic half the time. I lost 2 pounds.
GEORGETOWN ER 6/10

Georgetown psych ward
Spoon foods - they only gave us... “special guys” spoons, so everything they served had the consistency of extra-thick oatmeal. We were British peasants gumming at our rootless gruel. Also, my roommate looked like Wallace Shawn [he played Vizzini in The Princess Bride; the guy who kept saying “indubitably.”) He told me no one loved me, then gave me his half-eaten applesauce. He was chill.
GEORGETOWN PSYCH 4/10

Medstar
They just gave me crackers. That’s how they roll.
MEDSTAR 2/10

George Washington University
You god damn swine merchants. I’m Ethiopian Orthodox (we don’t partake in the hog) so to make it easier, I always steal Muslim Valor and check the Halal box, but they kept giving me fucking ham sandwiches. Giant portions, New York deli-sized portions. They wanted me to feel the succulent ham juices sliding down my chin like the first bite into a Florida orange. It felt like they were mocking me. I should have taken a photo. Either way, shout out to Nurse Fawziya getting me turkey sandwiches and complaining about Israel with me.
GW 0/10
FAWZIYA 12/10 

What Sense Is This?

Who made this world?

We were born in ignorance, overwhelmed by light and sound, cast into a boisterous and incomprehensible universe. With some passage of time, we learn to separate and, later, evaluate the stimuli barraging the senses. The five human senses capture only a fraction of reality.

Have you felt the scorched air over molten ore, while Bessemer’s process incinerates impurities and refines iron into steel? This is the same furnace Carnegie and the other worldbuilders used to carve out the concrete jungle of this new world order.

Your skin is a buffer from this cold and dark universe, but your heart knows no difference between dimensions of pleasure and dimensions of pain.

Madame Curie received the Nobel prize for the most damning and terrifying terrestrial discovery, radium. The lead coffin containing her radioactive remains is still sealed. Supposed salvations oft become harbingers of destruction.

Have you heard Eisenhower ordering Fat Man and Little Boy to drop? With a word he incinerated hundreds of thousands of innocents, blazing a path to something we called peace. No one can say that he was wrong.

The reverberations of air beat in your ear drums and may alert, inform, or relax. Noise is sound unsorted. The world gets louder each and every day.

Have you looked down the barrel of our leaders’ targeted sights, as they envision con quest—some views overt, others covert? So intent on avenging the past, some take advantage of the present, while few assure a future.

The photons that stimulate your visual cortex are physical particles of the universe that have travelled unimaginably vast distances over the course of billions of years.The visible light spectrum reveals less than a trillionth of the information that physically strikes our bodies every single day.

Have you lingered over the exotic, earthy flavor of a coconut on your lips, contemplating the tens of thousands of miles it traversed across global supply lines to please your eager palate? Do you taste the blood and the cheapened sweat on the husk?

Tongues teach to carefully consume, considering catastrophe, accounting for corruption. Royalty once employed poison-tasters to prevent peril. Will this practice see a resurgence in days ahead?

Can you smell the burning oil that lingers in the nostrils of the North? Unpleasant even at this latitude, it is a stranglehold, a garrote, around the throat of the Global South.

Aromas trigger neural connections, which in turn index an atlas of smells, each tied to a unique time and place. Can you smell the rock that is cooking?

Senses are tools. As refinement occurs, comprehension grows. Great art requires little more than acute awareness. A composer hears music before it is played. A chef tastes a dish yet to be made. A sculptor sees a statue in a block of untouched marble. Few are gifted with this inherent understanding; most spend lifetimes in a continuous search of stones that will sharpen their tools. Even the masters know just how little is knownabout literally everything. about literally everything.

Greek philosopher Parmenides once stated, our senses show the way of seeming, and that only logic and reason can reveal the way of truth. Two and half millennia later, we have lost our way. Anyone with sense will agree.

As physicist Sean Carroll puts it, “we shouldn’t fool ourselves into mistaking the world As physicist Sean Carroll puts it, “we shouldn’t fool ourselves into mistaking the world as we experience it for the world as it really is.” 

The Father, The Son, and the Holy Throne

A few years back, two rap superstars teamed up for one of the greatest collaboration albums of all time. A mogul who was somewhat of a veteran at this point was teaming up with his protégé. The protege had burst onto the scene a few years earlier with much help from the mogul and had, in turn, breathed new life into the mogul’s career. The album cover was a simple expression of the type of luxury they enjoyed. We are obviously talking about Like Father Like Son, the 2006 collab album from Birdman and Lil Wayne. Released in the middle of Wayne’s insane mixtape run and with Wayne handling (most of) the writing, we were treated to an incredible collection of songs about the streets, stunting, and family. A recent re-listen of the project led me to draw parallels to another much heralded collaboration, Watch The Throne. Rap mogul Jay-Z teamed up with Kanye West, who at that point was at his peak, to release one of the biggest albums of the decade. Kanye was at his peak at this point, coming off the release of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, the best album of his career. Hov was coming off a rough few years(artistically, NOT financially) and needed a spark, this was it. Watch the Throne album and tour were the biggest events of 2011, the album covered themes of fatherhood, race, infidelity, friendships, and most importantly, “black excellence, opulence, decadence”. The tour was popular in its own right, with the duo styled exclusively by Riccardo Tisci, then creative director of Givenchy, who also designed the album cover. West attempted to popularize the leather kilt and the pair performed Niggas In Paris up to 10 times at some stops on the tour. It was indeed a cultural moment, but there would be no Watch the Throne without Like Father Like Son

Centrism???

So, first of all, I don’t think that centrists deserve rights. The very idea of being a centrist implies that you don’t want to make decisions. Anyone who stays neutral in times of oppression stands with the oppressor. It is for that reason that I don’t believe centrists deserve to have rights or any free will. The decision to become centrist should come with a form that waives all rights until they feel like choosing a side. Centrism is much more dangerous to society than far-right extremists. Extremists have clear goals that can be used to appeal to them. Centrists hide their true intentions under the guise of neutrality, making it much harder to figure out what they are planning.