The day is on fire as we collectively mull over what feels like our new reality. My day begins with "Ecstatic Resistance" by Sable Elyse Smith, an oblique entrance into rhythm and line that transforms and wrings out into sweat. The act of indulging resonates right here, and right now- my immersion into this project is both complete and fragmented at the same time. "We are taking up space at the same time and spinning the most delicate webs out of the strongest material imaginable." And I am reminded that this is not our new reality, the ecstatic resistance has had a long history and that maybe we are just picking up the momentum yet again. At 20:58 (Video A) I pause to stare at a yellow square. Don't forget the music.
Video B- I'm always going from point A to point B- I am pulled towards sharp language over a megaphone just in front of the KFC, something about the white man and the police putting a foot in your ass. There is a woman with her back turned towards me; it looks like she might be having some kind of heated conversation with one of the men wearing superman t-shirts. I cross to the Golden Krust. There are two monitors side by side, monitor one is a 4-channel surveillance feed mirroring an all black staff and clientele as they watch what's on monitor 2, the RNC being televised. It's not too hot to eat a buff patti.