ernestomercer ernestomercer

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Nesto  Multidisciplinary. Multicultic. Multiplex. Mid-Atlantic Mulungu. Since 1619. Tata Nkisi Malongo Mayombé Monté Oscuro. Brama con Brama. Trancenational.

I have to go cook now. Girl got me starving. If you're in Atlanta right now, I'm hating on you. If you ain't called yet, you faking. @modestconcepts @theempanadashop_atl

The late, great Arthur Mitchell. All of Black American Dance owes his spirit some gratitude. Rise in Pirouettes.

I looked up & it was night on Friday. The words are nice tho. #officehours

More rain than Floyd. God bless the Low Country.

Cora, watching her mom, Ayanna Pressley give her victory speech. She's the de facto seat holder of Massachusetts 7. JFK's seat. This face says to me that she knows already that she can do anything.

My son changed his profile picture. He called it "Sports". He's droll like that. About 28 years ago.

The first Randy Weston I ever heard. Still my favorite. The masters keep going, day by day.
#randyweston #rip

Since the black internet has already savaged the, um music at the um, bury-a-thon, & the backwards nigger with the chicken grease sermon that is the real scourge of black America, + the creepy ass old dudes who woulda done it if the child's ass wasn't showing. Act like I can say that the song that always amazes the white world, that song that is many of our black education class songs since it was recorded, a song that white folks are always amazed that everybody black knows all the words to, except yesterday, yes: in these savage days I can say that "As" sounded like Ass, & it's just mildly humorous. That's saying something about the 20th century though, & 20th century black that all fits tho. Even Reverend Chicken Grease & all the retrograde mad niggerish Niggerocity that he let fly & all the Amen Corners you know he has in backwards black people land. All that noise at Aretha's funeral. If this doesn't convince you of how absurd the world is, how truly throwed it is, nothing will. If it doesn't illuminate a part of our everyday black surreality, most of the magic gets missed. The best response to that is laughter, I think. It makes you think that on her worst day the choirs never left Aretha's own particular voice. That says something about 20th century black too. Madame Tyson's hat tho. High Priestess jujutronic moves. Pretty insanely black ridiculously fabulous too.

Taking this selfie to remember. I'm heading into the lab. I don't know what day I'm coming out, or tuning into everything else. It's going to be leisurely, but the heads of my hydra are all lined up, they correspond, & I actually know what I'm doing. Got the playlists, got the viewing, got the wall space, got the floor space: I'm happy about this part of life. A little bit everyday adds up, fixing it & seeing where it's going, gambling on that sight...I've never felt brave in my life, but one thing I know: I mean everything I've made so far in there. It was blind steps from branch to branch too. Highwire no net. Worked out. Crude & clunky, but I'm satisfied with that part. & it called a lot right too. All the parts of "it". I'm satisfied that it connects & amazed. No matter how many structures I made, how many resurveys somehow, I kept landing on the right note, or at least one that worked. Today I get to start mixing it down, every way it's made. That's been four projects feeding each other for a long time. A crazy contrary engine that had to work. What's my look? Ionknow. I'm posting it gets to look back at. Maybe I'll know then. The best part, no matter what else happens, I did it. I didn't think I could. When started, longer ago that Ida thought, I just didn't have the chops for what was in my head. Just getting to this pitch, feels good enough. It's been a long time getting here. Now I just have to make it pretty. & if you're waiting on a packet from me, I don't expect anymore unexpected what ever you call it until the end of the month. 🤞🏿. Claiming that.

Cabeza en Congo

Preliminary layers, thinking in lines about abbreviating an old Kalunga & all of a sudden it's time to cook dinner. Holy Ghosted under the lango. Thesis statement. Kaolin + casacrilla + carbon.

A year ago I was writing long lines to Kalunga in a Hurricane, by the water, with a small Houston Third Ward spiritual community. We drew ourselves a submarine. We were helped in incredible ways & turned that help back out in the hood that held I'd down. I fell in love with a town that was flooded out, & water still rising. Not long after the roads still horrible, & more storms between us, Irma came between my road & my mother & I. María & her after effects killed 2905 people after that. I traveled back by bus with devastated people through detours & reroutes later. This is still the only way I can write about it really. But a lot of my memory now, is still in Kalunga. I'm still writing these long lines letters to Kalunga. Mpenso Vira Vira, Tormenta Vira Vira is an Ndoki storm that spins from the water with thunder & lightning: it takes the upper water & the lower waters & over turns the world. Respect , because in Hurricane country, we're on our own. + this is writing too

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