Figuring out the Business of Me

Yesterday, I sat with an agent at a cafe in Washington Heights. We had good "coffee" talk and she asked me questions about my career and where I see it going. Hm...

Where I see my career going?

I know this is a question we all ask ourselves, especially today in this economy. But I'm an artist; I identify as an actor and writer. So, I'm testing out these theories of career, seeing if I can actually make a living for myself and my partner. Yup, I am with someone. It's beautiful. And new. And scary. And brilliant. And an education on love. But this is another post all together.

Back to the business.

So, I'm sitting in this cafe with this agent-being asking me this existential question. I have to think. And what I come up with is a formulation of a business plan:

As an actor, I want to perform on stage. So I will seek the projects and those creative individuals who are like-minded and love the kind of work that I want to be a part of. I want to do theater. I want to do television. I want to work for HBO. They're sexy and hip and smart and risky and put out some damn good programming.

As a writer, I want to write stories with characters I can relate to. Guys and Gals that look like me, or have sensibilities like mine, and situations that are common and strange, unique to Latinos and Blacks, but essentially human. I want write for the stage. I want to write for the page- more specifically, I want to create graphic novels. I want to write for the camera. Television sounds very appealing because of how deep you can go in on characters, themes, multi-storylines with twists, or mini-plots that live within one episode. An exciting challenge to say the least.

Doesn't sound like much of a business plan. More like a statement of purpose. But guess what: It's clearer now than it was when I was first starting out. The agent-being did help me with resources, ways to search for interesting projects, and thoughts to mill over as I continue to focus my career choices. But one thing I know with certainty:

I will make a living making art.

Poetry from the Rambles...

The Calm

the bamboo whispers
“it’s coming”
don’t fear...the calm
the birds whistle tunes of a new song
the melody sounds eerie and familiar
the calm
the ceiling fan hums a relative sound
it’s calm, but not all will be so
it’s wind is a tease
a moment to reminisce
while in the calm
time is still waiting
bamboo whispers
fans hum
the thunder echoes now
it feels left out
it envies the calm
it wants to join
the calm

End of the World. Leave all the bad things behind. We just children playing out adult lives.
I’m leaving behind what don’t make sense,

undue stress
self-destruction
bitterness
regret
senseless violence

Humanity may recompense.
 
I ain’t got time to waste, get my mind right, get back to school;
the teacher is life and i’m always ‘present.

End of the line, my friend.
 We’re all invited to the final dress.
It ain’t sad, I ain’t mad, cause I know it’s time

Let go

Love
my lover with all my heart pieces
my friends deeply
my family
not changing but embracing
usher in the new birth with a clear mind

Here is my open letter to all of you

Get with it!
let love live
open hearts and minds

the tide is in, let your feet get wet
groove to the cosmic tunes/Nature’s swing/turn the dial up on your consciousness,
release the useless
embrace the positive
create, create, create,
the world needs your creative spirit
create a world that is a real dream,
a love song,
a place for feelings and fire and earth and rain,
little birds will sing our happy days 
Here they come, crashing up against the noon day sun,
Let the old go into remembrance, and the new be caressed in sweetness,
Here I am
herald of the new world, I sing the praise of Presence
the new world is uncovering
no need to run off
no need to get crazy,
no need to lift guns or clinch fists
  let’s release the grip on what we think is real
and
o        p    e    n    
o
o

A Bird in the Heights

This bird in the Heights must fly high to see his hood.
This bird in the Heights must fly really really high to see the outside.
This bird in the Heights must fly and swoop and dive to survive.
This bird in the Heights must fly far away in order to come back some day.
This bird in the Heights must die to make room for another bird to fly.

Birds of a feather stick together till a bird of a different feather comes along and sings a different song and spreads different wings and flies a different way. Then, the birds must question their own ways of being.

 

-B.A.S.A.