Damn U.

Published May 26, 2016 by Sandee

purple nebulaWith magic, sometimes you’re not aware that a spell has been cast. All these years and I didn’t know that Prince had more to do with me than I realized. The dude had fairy dust around him. I attached to that ethereal thread in his work.

“I Wanna Be Your Lover” was constantly played on the radio when I was in high school, but it was the movie “Purple Rain” that reeled me in as a black girl who loved rock ‘n roll. I “grew up” with Prince.

I didn’t know him, but it feels like I did. That one freaky black musician has transcended. If it was only the sex it wouldn’t be a problem. I’m absolutely deranged now that he’s gone. He left me fired up all the time. I’m not the only one — I see the comments in his YouTube videos. One guy said “I think I was impregnated by this video, and I don’t even have a uterus.” His comment got almost 150 likes.

Who wears mascara and lace, flirts with men, screams like a girl and gets all the women? Prince. That pan sexuality thing makes me insane. Later in his life, there seemed to be a denial of all that wild behavior. I see it this way – he had his battles like everyone else. The music industry is no joke. Either way, he could do no wrong in my book because he contributed something valuable to the culture.

I’m saturating myself, clicking repeatedly on concerts, videos, and interviews – he flirts with Mel Gibson on the Jay Leno show, which he had visited a few times. He seemed to like Jay Leno – wow! And what a sense of humor. But watching him hold his guitar – it’s too much. You are aware of his fingers. He moved with that guitar like a dance partner –sometimes he humped it to get his point across.

He put joy and life into his music. It’s truth. If he wasn’t a charismatic genius those movements might be hideous. He built on musicians before him, but he’s an authentic artist. I’ve seen him play drums, piano, and of course the guitar, but he played 27 instruments.

After Prince’s death I said that I got it — the universe needed Prince to work his energy from the outside – he had an amazing amount of it. A lot of the energy that I feel now is terribly sexual – painfully so. You can have sex with dead icons in your head. But the craving isn’t going to be satisfied. What I want is not real. What am I grasping? I gotta work this thing out — I might be posting more thoughts on this thing. It’s been a year since I’ve posted so you know this is serious. I’m fortunate to have a best friend to commiserate with — we go back and forth back and forth about it for days. Help me Jesus!

Those old videos aren’t really “porno,” like I jokingly told my friend. Like everyone’s said, they’re about God. I had read that Scorpions regard sex religiously. I do. And from Prince’s legacy, I have inherited something beyond me. Maybe after I get more sleep and take care of some issues that I’m dealing with I might be able to channel my muse with more equilibrium – but for now, as Prince said — damn u.



“I don’t like nightmares,” my three year old nephew said, with his eyes closed tightly.

Published July 5, 2015 by Sandee


Two weeks ago, I had a great time visiting The Historical Society of Tarrytown & Sleepy Hollow. I did “research” and enjoyed the “Victorian Secrets” exhibit with 19th and 20th century “unmentionables.” The curator there is wonderful.

Later, I had a nightmare worthy of a Twilight Zone episode:

I’m upstairs in the old Historical Society house ready to take a nap in a bedroom. It’s dark. In bed, my back faces the door. It opens suddenly and there are footsteps. Somebody comes to me in the bed, huffing out angrily, yanking the blanket roughly to cover my backside. The footsteps are fast-paced toward the door, which slams shut.

I get up and call out for the curator, my host, thinking that I’ve upset her. Creeping to the door, I call her name again. Opening the door, I don’t see anyone. I look down and to the left. There’s a mannequin from the “Victorian Secrets” exhibit, kneeling on the floor — glaring up at me!

She had stomped into that room with her Victorian morality to pull the blanket over my butt!

That dream scared the BEJEZUS outta me! Needless to say, I woke up immediately.

Wonder why on earth I’d have a dream like that — check out the rest of the cool photos!



Look! I’m “researching” — it’s what you do at the historical society!


No, this doesn’t mean that I’m going back to Africa.

Published June 22, 2015 by Sandee

When Africans sold slaves to Europeans, I imagine they didn’t know that it would turn into an evil institution. Slavery existed in Africa as a different institution than when it was introduced to the west. In Africa, slaves owned slaves who could buy themselves out of slavery and travel freely, etc.

Some people (including other blacks) think blacks and Africans come from inferior and barbaric cultures, and that we need to sit the hell down and appreciate what Europeans have done for us. But we didn’t need anything before they got there. And, please, I’m not referring to Egypt, where some of the people don’t even consider themselves black. Egypt has an ancient history that’s compatible to the way that Europeans think about “progress,” so black people here today want to claim that as part of our history, but most African Americans don’t come from there. I think we should find new ways of describing “progress.”

There was this African interviewed for Humans of New York who spoke about the degrading image of Africans covered in flies, begging and holding their hands out, helping to project a negative image. It has become part of the propaganda. But there are scientists, doctors, and engineers in Africa. Unfortunately, in the States, the stereotypical goal for blacks is still to become either a singer, dancer or sports star.

Nowadays, with the environmental issues that we face, and with the problem of fake food, etc., people can really appreciate the simple wisdom of those African proverbs that speak of mother earth. Certain indigenous tribes couldn’t even grasp the idea that anyone “owned” land, because it belonged to everyone. But now since the natural institutions of Africans have disappeared, superficially, it’s easy to blame them for a degraded state of existence, instead of remembering where they had come from, which a lot of us back-to-nature folks are trying to get back to.

And some African leaders have been corrupt — not to condone the behavior, but we’ve all been tainted with the idea of owning a lot of stuff (maybe it’s too late to turn back).

One culture isn’t better than the other. We should respect everyone’s contribution, without the underlying tone of hierarchy. It may be the only way we know how to relate to each other now, but it should change. We should have a different way of relating to the environment, and see simply that nature used Europeans, creating an environment that made it necessary for them them to move outward, to help us move closer together; as opposed to seeing one group as superior to the other.

It wasn’t innate genius in relation to others that propelled Europeans to start the swell of technological “advancement.”Africans and blacks are just as capable of learning and absorbing knowledge that inspires this kind of expertise.

But we all know of the practices that prevent that from happening, beginning with slaves and blacks being prevented from learning to read and going to school at the inception of this nation — this shit still exists today in subtler ways.

When people complain about racism, gun violence, and political corruption, etc., I think about how we just go round and round in circles with the same shit happening. Charleston, Newtown, unarmed black men being murdered — this is not the end. Now that we’ve figured out ways to get more resources to the masses with technology, we need to figure out how to distribute them in healthier ways.

Under the current market system, I don’t think it’s possible, because it requires cutting large percentages of the population out of the competition, and that involves propaganda. Or, maybe we should continue to promote a system that encourages murder, excess and degradation — and the use of anti-depressants to deal with it all. How sophisticated and advanced is a society such as this?

What names have you been called?

Published March 6, 2015 by Sandee


(“Señorita Chupacabra”)

My family didn’t give me a nickname (except my brother that one time), but during the years, people have called me names, and I didn’t mind being called these names — most of the time.

“You sword-chinned bitch!” is what my little ten year old brother yelled at me in 1973, during an argument. Much later, I mentioned that to people, and they fell down, laughing on the floor, so I used that name as my first blogger name. It was a tribute to my brother, sort of.

When my first nephew was born, I was so in love with him that my coworkers started calling me “Auntie Sandee.” Then my second nephew was born, cementing my identity as a spinster aunt – I mean, as an aunt. Some of you bloggers picked up on it and started calling me “Auntie Sandee,” too.

I had a Jimi Hendrix-type boyfriend who used to call me “Sandor,” “Sandor the Barbarian,” initially. This was back around 1981. And this sticks! My sister, seven year old nephew, and best friend still call me “Sandor.” Sometimes, my sister calls me “Sandwhore” — a twist on the old moniker! When my three year old nephew begins to grasp more language nuances, maybe he’ll call me “Sandor,” as well. He just only learned to say “Sandee,” without it sounding like “Dadee.”

The next three mean the same thing – they’re transient names, because different people have used these names to describe me throughout the years. The long and short of it – I suppose I’m out there — the names are, “kook,” “space cadet,” and “nutcase.” Now, mind you, the names were always used lovingly. But, if you were to insert the prefix, “you fucking,” obviously, it becomes something else.

The last two names, “La Sucia” y “Chupacabra,” were given to me by a Mexican friend. “La Sucia!” he’d scream upon seeing me. Actually, it was I who gave me the name while chatting with him once, and he just latched onto it. Was I dirty that day? I can’t remember. Well anyway, “Chupacabra” is a name that we called each other. I’d call him “Chupacabra” then he’d call me “Chupacabra”– “Hey Chupacabra!” – “What’s up Chupacabra!” The name belonged to both of us, except for the times that he called me “Señorita Chupacabra.” Unfortunately, I’m not so friendly with him anymore.

It’s fun learning people’s nicknames. Have any of you been called the names that I have been called? Have you called anyone else these names? What kinds of names have you all been called?

Kanye West – Avant Garde?

Published February 16, 2015 by Sandee

Usually, I don’t watch the Grammys, but stumbled upon this year’s show. After the Kanye West “incident” at the Grammys, I’ve had this Beck song “Where It’s At” in my head, constantly. And that’s a good thing. Beck is “where it’s at!” A real artist. Original, honest. I feel the truth in his work. I’ve been into him for years.

It makes me want to pull my own teeth out when I hear pop entertainers, who need more than five people to work on one dumbass and hackneyed song, proclaim that they’re artists. While some true artists find their way into the hearts of the masses – Sly Stone, Prince, Stevie Wonder — having a fan base made up solely of the masses makes you nothing more than a commercial product. A writer for ‘Black Voices’ in the Huffington Post spoke of “socially constructed” pop stars, specifically referring to Beyonce: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kim-lute/dangerously-in-denial_b_6666334.html. But some pop stars do transcend into another strata because of the phenomenon of deification, when the masses turn you into a goddess or a god.

I wonder if Kanye West will ever see the error of his obnoxious ways. I kind of feel sorry for him, because I can see his desperation in trying to be “an artist”. But I don’t see where he actually is an artist. After the thing he pulled on Beck, and after reading about some of his delusional quotes, he just looks like a big baby, pathetically clinging to fame. And I wish people would stop patronizing him saying he’s a madman, implying some kind of genius. He’s someone interested in making a whole bunch of money who started believing in their own hype, and in what the masses were saying to him. Because he does have the support of the commercial industry and of the masses — pop entertainer clout — people who follow trends, and whatever pabulum happens to be marketed to them will be interested, no matter that it’s common bullshit. I don’t have a problem with common bullshit, and I like a lot of pop music. While I appreciate originality more, lying on the floor while performing doesn’t make you avant-garde, if what you’re singing or rapping about is common. Oh well, keep trying.

What do you all think about Kanye West interrupting Beck’s moment at the Grammys?

Now, this Beck song – it’s where it’s at!

Where Else Do I Post Selfies and Shoddy Phone Pictures Since I’m Not On Facebook Anymore (For Now)?

Published February 13, 2015 by Sandee


My previous post was about having cooties. This one’s about recovery. It was nothing serious, but I’m still certainly under the weather. Today was the first time I felt motivated to clean my apartment and go for a walk in my neighborhood. It was just the kind of look I liked outside, but colder than I’d thought.

I only just know how to make quinoa for dinner, so while I waited for my quinoa to finish cooking, I thought I’d post the pictures from my walk that I took with my new smartphone that I bought to replace my old-school Nokia. Really, the pictures don’t look much better than those sad ones I used to post with my low-tech phone.

But I like the sidewalk panel one because it reminds me of Gregory Crewdson. You can google image his work with light and panels and that sort of thing. I have a lot of nerve even uttering his name in the same paragraph including a description of a picture I took with a camera phone — haha! Oh, and I do like the one with the frozen river. The first one in the third row I took because I was actually trying capture this tall, thin man walking in front of me — I liked the imagery of his figure on that block — he walked fast and I couldn’t really get him. Don’t pay any mind to the stupid plastic bag in one of my photos of the trees in the park.

And of course since I’m not on Facebook anymore (for now anyway) I had to include selfies — where else am I gonna post selfies now? There’s one happy and one sad, to represent me with cooties and without.

I apologize but boredom brings out my vanities. So, in the end, I do feel better, and I did manage to burn my quinoa. By the way it’s 3am, and I should be crawling into bed soon. Goodnight…



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