Cowboys in the kitchen



Dreams of today are not those of yesterday.

What I said yesterday I do not agree with today.

I am not the same as yesterday, nor will I be the same today.

This is a lovely part of the human condition; self-acceptance accompanied by equal amounts of denial.

Why not?


Homage to This Place

IMG_7553That I play on repeat
because they talked it good
and Amy regenerated them in my memory
with her simple signals.

Home is where Buzzy makes trouble
and Sissy keeps tabs
on my heart,
by sitting on it.

We’re just animals
with a home,
who take chances
at not being afraid.

I Saw the Sign

milkmanIvo Andrić has a book I haven’t read yet called Signs by the Roadside. A good friend praises it and I trust her taste as she travels a lot and only takes a few belongings with her, this book being one of those.

Walking to work on Monday, I saw this sign on what was presumably a milk truck. It was odd to see it on a parked truck on Wabash Ave. I found it nostalgic and wondered what it was like to get milk from a milkman, especially one who really wanted to be your milkman. I of course chuckled as there are so many jokes about milkmen and all that they bring and a particular song it reminded me of.

Three days later, it’s Thursday and I’m catching up on my social media.  A private message from an acquaintance is oddly enough a video related to milk. I don’t drink milk, unless it’s in the form of yogurt, cheese, or kefir, so it must be a sign along Andrić’s roadside.

Yes, this video sent by the acquaintance was also a sign, a sign calling me to God’s dairy farm, reminding me that people who need milk sometimes pray for it, and their milkman comes with milk and all the money in his wallet to give, after he turned on seventh street of course. All these signs that were assigned meaning, from the number seven to milk and money.

Well honey, my milkman sign is here in Aphex Twin’s song. Give it a chance, won’t ya? It’s also a sign.

Konče & Džindže


Don’t have ’em,
don’t want ’em.

Having is gone, 
being is.

Cinnamon needs a lil more time to think of a rhyme.
Her new name takes getting used to as our bodies take growing into.

Focus focus, hocus pocus,
y’all forgive me always, ain’t no jokus.

Exercise, extra size,
breathe through the eyes.

Big paws and small flaws,
gots, needs, and haves.

Doo dooo doooo,
Toš and Šos were boš.

Then they got down,
now they’re moši moshi.



Hello? 313 here.

Hello? 312 on the wire.

What’s shakin’ 312?

Daddy-o this joint is off the hook!

Indeed it is.



In other words:

The joint I’m talking about was the Underground Resistance performance at the Metro this past Sunday. Part of an all building event that featured Queen! DJ’s Derrick Carter, Michael Serafini, and Garret David downstairs at Smartbar with Detroiters, Timeline, John Collins, Mark Flash, and Wajeed upstairs at the Metro.


I almost lazed out on the whole thing if it wasn’t for my Detroiter sister who reminded me with her post, “I am jealous of Chicago.” Cold shower, refreshment and off I went.


As a Chicagoan I have gone and can go to hear Queen! any given Sunday, so I was most excited to hear Underground Resistance, whose live band Timeline performed. Timeline is Mike Banks, Jon Dixon, Mark Flash, and De’Sean Jones. As one dancer said of the performance, “this was something special.”


Something special indeed, not every day that you go to hear music from a techno collective, which includes piano, saxophone, and flute, in addition to legend Mike Banks.

About their performance: Piano may be the boss, but flute knows the route and saxophone brings it home.


The music alone did not make the special, but the atmosphere; the friendly dancers from Milwaukee, the colorful prancers and swancers from around the way. I was reminded of family, of cities as family; Detroit and Chicago as sisters. And of other family values: honor, respect, dignity, and integrity.

Respect to John Collins, not only for his brilliant set that brought us back, but for his thoughtful tour to our group when we visited Detroit’s secret techno museum last summer, and for the few words we shared at Sunday’s event.

And that’s all folks!



Annie Besant’s Thought Forms at Stony Island Arts Bank, Chicago

Always retain inspiration, seek it out, and keep it.

Yesterday happened a coincidence, where the same couple I see sitting in the train on the way downtown, I see them on my way back up, eight hours later.

Uncanny, this marvelous in the banal shall we say.

I purposely sat in the same seat so that I could repeat the afternoon’s journey and wondered if they also noticed.









Anna Sui dresses, Detroit Historical Society


This evening, inspiration was regained through all the senses I do declare.

Firstly, from Yohji Yamamoto and Wim Wenders in Notebooks on Cities and Clothes,

where I learned from Yamamoto that asymmetry is human and from Wenders that forlorn is a word I forgot.




From one music of Japan to another, where I had a moment of telepathy and understanding with fellow humans; clarity and solidarity.

I have not researched the artist as I am too lazy this evening, but his name was shing02 and he is based out of Tokyo and San Francisco maybe.

After the Bustin’ short that CK showed a few weeks back there was some of this cat’s music that popped up and it was a welcome refreshment.


I would be aki nezna in addition to ana nezna.

two pen names are better than one, i’m backing up these days.

Aki is both a Finnish and Japanese man’s name, but for me it’s a nickname and now another nom de plume.


Happy New Year!


Kitten face no more

There are so many reasons already to celebrate 2016 but I refrain from doing so too much. Reflecting on why I don’t readily share, sharing is caring after all. I’m brought back to my December road trip, for the Touring Chic section of my upcoming web publication, Chic Shifter, exploring facets of fashion inside and outside of the Midwest.

Like any good American road trip, I listened to the radio, as I like to know where I’m at and what a particular region hears. On the stretch back from Indianapolis to Chicago, I was back to the trusty public radio station, NPR, with the program Fresh Air. I had the chance to hear an interview by Terry Gross with Jeffrey Tambor, who I know from the amazing TV shows of Arrested Development and Three’s Company.

The interview was about his recent series for Amazon, Transparent, where he plays the role of Maura, a transgender, Jewish father who becomes a mother. What remained with me most from the interview was Tambor’s comments on his own life, not those of the character he played. When Terry Gross asked him about what he said in previous interviews about his father’s advice “don’t celebrate, they’ll take it away from you.”

Tambor’s response was what stuck with me a month later and I use it now to support my reasoning for not sharing, or at least partially sharing. Whenever he told his dad good news; whether about being on Broadway, or getting married, his dad would respond with “Sh-sh, don’t say it. Nothing, nothing. Don’t do anything.” His father didn’t say this blindly but because of his cultural heritage as a Jewish man, if you did celebrate and it were visible, it could be dangerous. I didn’t grow up Jewish like Tambor, and I don’t believe I was ever explicitly told this as part of my own diasporic Serbian cultural upbringing, but the sentiment still remains, as I was raised with a general mistrust of the world, perhaps a Balkan view since we are all god damn crooks, or just me lucky duck.

Luck and ducks with me, I am happy to welcome in this old new year and new old year with my data recovered. Photos of kittenhood that I thought were lost forever? They are back! Random musings gone? Nope, they’re back too! Musical adventures gone astray? No, I don’t think so! I hope that I have finally learned to back up, and check my backup.

With this returned, I welcome the new challenges and roles set before me.