Yep, got me a camera. A Canon T3i
I can see where it’s enhancing my ideas for scenes. I also set it up to record me speaking for my online classes. You thought I was brutal on myself before? Yo’ this is me going off on just my teeth:
1. My teeth will never be white enough for me. Ever.
2. That center right chipped tooth from Pop Warner football needs attention. (Thank you, Malcolm Pearson, I remember that, had me swirling it in my mouth like a Chiclet. Not cool. Guess that’s what happens when you put a punter’s face mask on a kid playing defensive line. )
3. The center right tooth on my bottom row is crooked. Dafuq!
Anyway, I have mad respect for the directors and camera people I’ve worked with so far. The lighting, the sound… This stuff is serious. Exciting but serious. Not too much is going to be safe at home from me filming. I’m on a crash course figuring this out while I work out this North of the Grove webisode. WARNING: To all my white friends and readers who have drifted off from my tweets and fb page lately because I’m not as humorous as usual, thug it out ’cause here it comes here. Very pissed about this shituation in Ferguson. I believe the militarization of the police is part of the horrible days of reckoning I wrote about in my first novel at 21, The Chosen People: Africa’s Lost Tale of Meroe.
I’ve had this camera for weeks now. I remember thinking the media can go there and shame the local government and police into at least faking like they were decent, like they had to during the civil rights movement. Guess not. My wife advised me not to put this part in the blog, to separate my politics from doing film. I suppose that would be easy if my oldest son, just off to college, hadn’t recently been pulled over in the neighborhood by a cop who thought they looked suspicious. The cop got my son’s friend out of the car and wrestled him to the ground to cuff him and threaten jail time if he didn’t tell him where the “stuff” was. Ain’t no damn stuff, but I suppose that coming from young black males is impossible to believe. What kind of fool happily ignores that and waits for that unfortunate call to come one day (and believe me, these two kids are too non-confrontational to be resisting any kind of arrest)? This can either shut down my creativity with rage or fuel me with so many more stories to tell. Stories with more social relevance, more depth. Somehow, someway with my vision, my pen, my camera and my heart, I am going to do what I can straighten out my teeth and this sick state of worthlessness black America has been reissued.