Thomas Sayers Ellis is a ridiculously talented poet, photographer, go-go expert, and a mentor to my work as a photographer and poet (yes yes y’all, I write…but that’s a whole ‘nother blog entry)…

Anywho, he’s offering a real deal to folks in the D.C./Metro area, and I would LOVE to hear that some of my loyal blog readers submitted to be part of this workshop. Read on:

Line March: Verse-ing and Reverse-ing Natural Talk Into Prosody

A tough, nuts-and-bolts poetry workshop designed to tell you the truth about your work and what it takes to get it on its feet and into the publishing arena. The instructor will look at your writing, suggest literary (reading) kinship, make the necessary adjustments (on the page and in your creative process) so that you understand the distinctions between prosody and prose behavior as well as how to make nuance (not just text) from the simultaneous effects of music and meaning. We will discuss what makes a poem “literary” and practice wrapping our opinions in ideas that are in conversation with issues of art and life, and ideas from other genres and mediums. The workshop atmosphere will be judicious yet courageous, and the instructor will take into consideration each poet’s individual interests, strengths and weaknesses. Weekly (Monday) meeting dates beginning July 26 thru the end of August, 7-9 pm.

Washington, D.C. area meeting place to be announced upon acceptance. Send three poems to tsellis@gmail.com no later than July 25. Enrollment Limited to 10.

 Class fee: $160.

Thomas Sayers Ellis is the author of The Maverick Room and a contributing editor to Poets & Writers, the poetry editor of The Root and a contributing writer to Waxpoetics. His poems have appeared in Grand Street, The Best American Poetry 1997 and 2001, Poetry, Tin House and The Nation. He teaches writing at Sarah Lawrence College and in the Lesely University low-residency MFA program.

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Oh, but what would a pho-log be without photographs? We recently shot for Rare Essence, the Wickedest Go-Go Band Alive in DC (blog post on that coming sooooon, I think), and here’s a few shots of TSE that I captured during the process:

(As I said, SPACE IS LIMITED, so definitely get in contact with him ASAP)

Yeah. So…Conference began, and I didn’t have time to update each day. I worked 15-20 hour days, running around with my gear, my forearms got some dope definition (which will return to their normal mushy state once I’m back in the D of C), but most of all, I met some wonderful people, doing amazing things for the Latino community, and felt so proud/blessed/amazed to be a little teeny part of it all.

I got the opportunity to work with an amazing team of photographers from Fernando Pena Photography, and we had a great time talking like nerds about fast glass, and shooting RAW, much to the confusion of my colleagues who, well, are so much cooler than me.

On to the photos! My hard drive is tucked safely away in my suitcase, so last night I picked some photos at random to share with all of you. I encourage you to check NCLR’s website in a few weeks to look at the rest of the photo highlights from Conference.

I don’t think I ever shared a view from my hotel. In the foreground is the Convention Center, aka the office for the week that I was here.

Taxis. Yep! I mean, they had actual taxis, but if you wanted to get around the general vicinity of downtown, this was a quick way to get there!

Did I mention I love this lens? Because, well, I really do.

On Saturday, I got up SUPER early to cover the Diabetes Dash.

I got to hang out with the Lideres crew and their Despedida (their farewell) included a Afro-Ecuadorian group by the name (I believe) of Azucar!

I got to shoot many a happy hour/dance party. Here’s a pic from the Rockin Oldies Happy Hour:

And the Lideres DJ Dance Party:

This was a GREAT band and ARGH I forgot their name. Homegirl can SANG.

One of my favorite authors, Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, was on a panel about being a Latina in the arts, and breaking the stereotypes that plague us. BUY HER BOOK! AND READ HER BLOG!

I got to see (and shoot) Ozomatli performing at the House of Blues. I had SO MUCH FUN!

The highlight for me, however, was meeting the presidential candidates, and hearing their thoughts on how they’re going to improve things for Latinos in this country.

Yeah, Green Room access was kinda cool too It was a once in a lifetime opportunity – unless either of this fine fellows wanna hire a sista to be a WH photographer

I’ll probably update this blog post once I’m back in DC and have time to look at more photos (ohhhh the editing commences!)

Yesterday we visited one of our Affiliates, the San Ysidro Health Center. It provides low cost health care to the residents of the South Bay, and it was great seeing everyone in action. Here are two of my favorite shots.

 Aight, back to work. Hollahollaholla!

I fell asleep in front of my laptop yesterday but I did get a chance to traipse about the San Diego Convention Center earlier and try to shoot wide with the 14 mm lens. WOW @ this city, all the architects must have had a field day when they were planning it, everything is visually STUNNING. I also got the work out of the century with the GRILLION stairs the convention center has. NEVER ENDING. Luckily some of my coworkers drove by and saw me panting at a stop light and rescued me

On to the photos

(yes there’s a photoshop faux pas in there LOL)

Okay holla! Back to work!

I’m in San Diego for NCLR’s annual Conference, and although the view from my hotel is awesome and San Diego is begging to be explored, I’m going to behave myself and stay in and study for GREs.

The flight here had me with my face pressed against the glass; I haven’t seen mountains in a lonnnnng time (half my life was spent in Colorado, and I really hope to go back soon to visit), and wow, we flew over deserts! Sand and everything. Being the dork I was, my cameras were in the overhead bins, and I hate getting up and climbing over people from the window seat, so I stayed put and tried to close my eyes and memorize how breathtaking Mother Nature is.

Anywho, on to the few pictures I’ve snapped on my way here:

I’ve never seen this on a phone before, and I thought it was a joke, and then I got up closer to read it, and realized it wasn’t. Sign of the times.

My first real meal of the day was accompanied by this lovely flower. I guess it’s supposed to brighten your day considering how much you spent on a sandwich

I’m testing out the Canon 14mm f/2.8L rectilinear lens (try saying that 5x fast) while in San Diego .

This is lodged in the ledge of my hotel window.(What is with me and tongue twisters? Lodged/Ledge?)

Argh, while I really really really really want to go outside and explore San Diego (it’s my first time in Cali!), I’m gonna try and remember basic arithmetic.

(I hate math, I really do. I also hate debt. I think I owe Howard University my first born. *pep talks herself*)

My, how fast they grow.

Exhibit A:

(Notice the skill with which he holds the bottle between tiny little clenched [SHARP] teeth)

Yes. He’s pulling Gramps’ ear. And trying to be sneaky about it.

Exhibit B:

o 0 (hmm…spoons. they’re in my way, though.) *chucks spoons to ground, climbs in drawer*

Exhibit C:

OH HAI Grandma! What’s good?

Exhibit D:

I’m sure ‘DIPSET’ is going through his mind, after falling to the almighty power of La Mirada*

(Notice the tongue wagging out of the mouth, in sheer panic.)

*Oh, y’all ain’t know about La Mirada? Walk with me.

Okay, imagine your mother is a very kind, very sweet lady (mine really is, OH HAI Mami!). Imagine that you’re hmmm….under the age of 4. So…you decide that crayons look nice on the wall. I’m sayin, why not? It’s like a big, blank canvas. You start to flex your artistic skills, and all of a sudden your inner Van Gogh is expressing himself, your fingers are possessed and you’re dragging that wax stick lovely across the smooth paint, ooooh some yellow, ahhhh some red RIGHT there, how about some cerulean to mix it up? You’re Salvador Dali on the Behr; you’re Frida Kahlo on the Duron.

Suddenly, in the midst of your artistic frenzy, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You feel someone staring at you. Your skins starts to prickle, and you glance out of the corner of your eye, a quick glance, but it’s enough, that’s all that’s needed…you connect eyes with La Mirada. The ominous GLARE that all mothers possess. My version usually had hands on the hips, and lips pursed in a straight line. La Mirada, the look that can make you STOP what you’re doing, because you know if you don’t, you’re gonna GET IT. El Chancletaso. A quick SWAPCHA on the bootay with the Dr. Scholl’s, it’s not enough to cause pain, but it’s more than enough to tell you that Frida Kahlo, you are not. You pack up your Crayolas in a hurry, hike up your Osh Kosh overalls, and high tail it to your room to go scribble in your coloring books, because La Mirada is more dangerous than a chancletaso will ever be.

I think because grandbabies are inherently more cuter than your own children, my nephew will never be privy to the chancletaso experience, but oh boy, did he UNDERSTAND La Mirada. And I got to witness the power of it! And GET THIS, after he climbed out of the drawer, he cleaned up all the spoons/spatulas he dropped on the floor right after being administered La Mirada!

Thus my point is proven…La Mirada is POWERFUL, y’all.

Kudos to Mami, I hope that in my genetic makeup, therein lies the La Mirada Chromosome. 

Sometimes, deep down inside, I am a girly girl. I like wearing heels. Of course, I can’t photograph in them (though Jasmine Star is a TROOPER, I don’t know how she does it, but she makes it work!), but sometimes, when I don’t need to walk too far, and the majority of my activity will be spent sitting in an office chair, I will rock a cute pair of heels.

In my journey from people-shy photographer to eat-drink-live-breathe photographer, the choice I make when purchasing shoes has two categories: Shoes I Can Photograph In, and Zapatos Agador.

Does anyone remember Agador from the Bird Cage? Okay, well if you don’t, add it to your Netflix queue, buy the DVD, whatever, but pretend you’ve seen it as you read the next sentence:

Agador: [manly voice] I do not wear the shoes… because… they make me fall down.

That’s me in a nutshell when it comes to wearing heels. I really. Am. Clumsy.

I’m hardheaded also. I will squeal if I’m in DSW and see the perfect pair of heels, sitting on the clearance rack (yes, mama raised a thrifty hija), priced accordingly (sale! sale sale!). I will try them on and traipse about the store, perhaps in search of ANOTHER pair of heels to accompany the ones I have on (usually the security tag is slapping against the floor as I do this). I pace the aisles and think about what outfits complement said shoes. Then, once I’ve handed over my plastic, I skip to the car with the white-and-black striped bag swinging from my hand, giddy with my purchase.

And then…I will wear them on a work day. Foolishly. By 3 p.m. I’m frantically going through my cubby hole in my cube, looking for my kicks because I. Can’t. Take. It. Anymore!

I recall one time when I was having a Mary Tyler Moore moment on the way back to the office, hair bouncing about, sun shining on my face, clicking my heels against the asphalt, and then…my heel got stuck in a grate. Yes, y’all. STUCK. A group of office ladies dangling cigarettes from their brightly painted fingernails shouted ‘DON’T BREAK IT! TWIST AND PULL, GIRLFRIEND, ‘ and I followed their advice and managed to escape unscathed, save for a teeny scratch on the shoe. I had broken my cardinal Marlene rule of wearing heels out in the Open, and learned my lesson after that fateful moment.

But did it stop me from buying heels? Psht! NOPE.

Sunday, we were shopping (we, meaning I dragged poor Cory along with me, and his mother was visiting us, which means Manlaw took a major loss that day), and I wandered into the shoe area of the store, Cory in tow (perhaps monitoring me, ready to snatch my check card out of my hand the very instant I was taking it out of my wallet), and I squealed ‘OOH LOOK AT THESE’ and Cory was all ‘…oh. shoes. like the ones you already have.’ and then I inSISTED that no, these shoes were NOTHING like any other pair I owned.

I quickly rationalized the need for new shoes. 1) Every girl needs a pair of round toe heels. 2) They were not stilettos (talk about AGADOR CENTRAL whenever I wear them) and 3) They were on CLEARANCE.

I’m pretty sure Cory was tired (he had a very early deadline on Friday, plus momdukes was visiting, so we had to clean house, etc), because he shrugged, which I took to mean ‘Get them. They are cute on you. You go girl!’

Now, I PROMISE they didn’t hurt when I tried them on and flounced about the shoe store. It wasn’t until about 3 p.m. (usual Zapatos Agador quitting time), that I began to feel the burn. I tried to grin and bear it, but it wasn’t happening. Usually once the Burn occurs, it’s highly likely I’ll have an Agador moment. I will trip into something.

I heeded the warning signs and tore those puppies off and slipped into my sneakers, and finished the rest of the work day looking like a fashion disaster but hey, I was comfortable. (Can someone call Stacy London for me? I know, I make fashion mistakes, and I’d love for her to help me channel my inner fashionista!)

So the moral of the story is that I’m hardheaded and clumsy. I love a good shoe, but I’ve gotten wiser and brought a pair of comfy sneakers or flats along with me, when the Agador gets tough.

(Yes I am thinking of wearing them tomorrow.)

*** UPDATE *** It is 11:40 a.m. and I have these bad boys on again.