Artists and Writers at Work: Colin Broderick on At the Edge Radio Show June 4 – 4:30 PM EST

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http://www.blogtalkradio.com/at-the-edge-an-afrofuturist-salon/2013/06/05/artists-and-writers-at-work-colin-broderick

colinbroderick
Colin Broderick is a Northern Irish author and  documentary filmmaker living in Manhattan. His first memoir Orangutan , Random House, details the first twenty years he spent living in New York City, drinking, working construction and attempting to formulate his life as a writer.  A feature-length documentary of the same name,Orangutan , detailing the author’s life, is currently in production.  Broderick who is originally from County Tyrone Northern Ireland has lived in New York City for over twenty years. “So many of the black sheep of the world end up here. That’s part of what makes it the stimulating vibrant melting pot that it is. We finally have somewhere we belong.”
Broderick’s play, Father Who, had a successful three-week run at the Macalla Theatre Company in the Bronx.  His second play Spudmunchers had a successful run in New York 2012 and starred Irish boxer John Duddy in his first major acting role since retiring from professional boxing in 2011.  Broderick also filmed, directed and starred in his first short movie “Smile”. He describes it as a “poem of loneliness.”  He also optioned his first screenplay “The Starfarm,” a movie currently in production.

Broderick’s follow-up memoir “That’s That,” detailing his childhood growing up in Northern Ireland was published May 2013, by Broadway Books, Random House.  Colin’s work has been published in The New York Times, Poets & Writers, Writer’s Digest, and Rattapalax.

For more information:  http://www.amazon.com/Colin-Broderick/e/B003X092OE/ref=wp_h_al

Artists and Writers at Work: TJ English on At the Edge Radio Show 8 PM EST June 3

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This episode features Thomas Joseph “T.J.” English, who comes from a large Irish Catholic family of 10 siblings.  Early in his writing career, English worked as a freelance journalist in NYC during the day and drove a taxi at night. In 1990, English published his first book, The Westies, an account of the last of the Irish Mob in the infamous Manhattan neighborhood “Hell’s Kitchen.” His second book, Born to Kill (1995), was an account of a violent Vietnamese gang based in New York’s Chinatown.  In 2005, he published Paddy Whacked, a history of the Irish American gangster in New York, Chicago, Boston, New Orleans, and other U.S. cities.  In 2008, English published the NYT bestseller Havana Nocturne, about U.S. mobster infiltration of Havana, Cuba before Fidel Castro (currently in film development).  His next book was The Savage City (2011), an account of racial hostilities between the NYPD and the Black liberation movement in the 1960s and early 1970s.  His most recent book Whitey’s Payback (2013) combines first-rate reporting and storytelling techniques into 16 true-crime stories.

As a journalist, English has written for many publications including: Esquire, Playboy, NY Magazine, The Village Voice, LA Times Magazine, and the NY Times. In the mid-1990s, he wrote a 3-part series for Playboy, “The New Mob”;  in 2011 he wrote “Narco Americano,” for Playboy; in 2010, his article for Playboy about a DEA agent who allegedly framed innocent people on bogus narcotics charges won the NY Press Club Award for Best Crime Reporting.  He published interviews with Bill Murray, former Chicago mayor Richard J. Daley, Martin Scorsese, and George Carlin.  As a screenwriter, English wrote episodes for ”NYPD Blue” and “Homicide,” for which he was awarded the Humanitas Prize.

http://www.tj-english.com/

Half-Way to Revelation [part 1] by Cherie Ann Turpin Story #24 (30 Stories in 30 Days)

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Half-Way to Revelation [part 1]

by Cherie Ann Turpin

Story #24

(30 Stories in 30 Days)
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Ella wore a white dress and tan Birkenstocks sandals on the tourist bus going to La Mitad del Mundo from Hilton Hotel in downtown Quito.  One of her colleagues traveling with her from University of Hartford, an older professor from the Spanish department with smooth black skin and a halo-like afro, sat in the aisle seat next to Ella.  She split one of the rolls she carried from the continental breakfast spread in the dining room with Ella, who nodded in silent thanks while taking a puff from her asthma inhaler.   She bit into the crispy bread, and quickly swallowed a mouthful of bottled water as she glanced out of the window from her seat.

After 48 hours, she still struggled to adjust to the elevated city’s altitude.  At nearly 10,000 feet, tourists who came to Quito were advised to rest for 24 hours and drink water to prevent altitude sickness.  For Ella, who was an asthmatic, it took her nearly two days to adjust after a somewhat unnerving and bizarre landing at Mariscal Sucre, Quito’s treacherous airport.  Physically and visually, Quito was one of Ella’s oddest academic conference travel experiences.  She noted the signs of poverty on the outskirts of the city as the tour bus sped from downtown Quito, from the cooking fires in front of storefronts to the squatters gathered near shabby concrete building frames in open, barren fields.

Tourist trinket huts and restaurants lined the edge of Equatorial Monument, otherwise known as La Mitad del Mundo.  Ella wandered from the main group and took the main path leading to the imposing andesite-covered tower.  She paused at the grayish-brown steps to look up, only to stumble backwards, feeling dizzy and momentarily blinded by sunlight that had broken through thick, gray clouds.  Attempting a discreet recovery, she grabbed the rails to balance herself and found herself face-to-face with a small brown woman with knee-length black hair who gently grabbed her elbow and helped her to stable her balance.

“Muchas Gracias, Senora,” rasped Ella, who quickly recovered from her spell and smiled.

“De nada,” The woman continued to respond in English with a returned smile. “You should be more careful looking up at the sun like that, Senora Ella.  We live close to the sun here.”

Ella blinked rapidly, and looked into the warm, friendly face of the petite woman who had helped her.  She looked strangely familiar.  Was she part of the conference group?  Ella did not remember her.  The woman’s skin seemed to glow with a golden undertone.  A name seemed to float through her ears with the mild wind that swirled around the two women: Pachamama.  The woman nodded, and held out her hand to Ella, who was mesmerized momentarily by the Goddess in front of her.

“I have many names, my daughter,” spoke Pachamama, whose voice seemed to echo throughout the summit.  “We are part of you, and you are part of us.  Your journey here is a turning point for the trajectory of this lifetime for you.  When you return to your English land, you will carry a part of me with you.  I am Mother to all of you who feed my children.  Come, walk with me, daughter.  We have much to discuss.”

Pachamama raised her hand, casting sunlight around the two women, and they disappeared through the bright light.

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At the Edge Radio Show June 5, 8 PM EST: Koro Koroye [CHANGED DAY & TIME]

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Artists and Writers at Work: Koro Koroye


http://www.blogtalkradio.com/at-the-edge-an-afrofuturist-salon/2013/06/06/artists-and-writers-at-work-koro-koroye-1

photo45-225x300-2This episode features spoken word artist Koro Koroye from Lagos, Nigeria. Koro is currently pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing with a focus on poetry at Hofstra University. Spoken word has always been and will continue to be a passion for Koro.  Working with an NGO (Non government organization) in Nigeria that serves orphaned children living in the slums, Koro also works with the Huntington Arts Council on an art exchange program that inspires creativity in these children. She is working on a collection of poetry that will be published soon.  For more information on Koro, check out her website: 
https://www.facebook.com/koro.koroye

“Girlfriend Experience” by Cherie Ann Turpin Story #23 (30 Stories in 30 Days)

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“Girlfriend Experience”

by Cherie Ann Turpin

Story #23

(30 Stories in 30 Days)

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Pre-loaded with personality and relationship programming for long-term use, and with reprogramming adjustment every six months. Personality programming always inclusive of ISFJ and ESFP (extra charge for Guardian/Security card), and relationship package includes “travel companion,” “executive assistant,”  “concubine/mistress,” “live-in woman,” and “girlfriend.”  Her disposition and temperament can be adjusted according to taste at the time of purchase, and during the six-month check-in/realignment appointment.

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“Meet Karen” by Cherie Ann Turpin Story #22 (30 Stories in 30 Days)

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“Meet Karen”

by Cherie Ann Turpin

Story #22

(30 Stories in 30 Days) Shapeshifter

Karen van Vliets was born a shape-shifter, but her abilities did not become manifest until age fifteen during one brutally hot summer.  She did not know her true origins, nor did she know of anyone else like her, given the fact that her parents made an unusual decision to adopt a Black baby into a White household.  Mr. and Mrs. van Vliets, wealthy descendents of coal and oil industrialists, adopted Karen from an inner city orphanage during their early stage of their soon-to-be multiple philanthropist impulses to give away some of the billions of dollars stashed away in U.S. and overseas banks to less fortunate and less privileged.

She grew up in a posh, fashionable quarter of the city surrounded by German and French philosophy books (both parents were philosophy professors) and a priceless art collection rivaling several urban museums.  Her mother and father, emotionally distant and reserved, became distressed at Karen’s inexplicable series of migraine headaches that shook her to her core.   Doctors assumed it to be stress-related, and prescribed anti-anxiety drugs that left her lethargic and unable to move from her bed for months. Lynnderella-Shape-Shifter-swatch-1

Her transformation into a shape-shifter became apparent during one of the more extreme migraine attacks when suddenly the pain disappeared like the clearing of a storm.  Her mother, who was usually a rather mild, calm woman began to scream hysterically when she walked into Karen’s bedroom and saw a naked woman standing before her who was, from head to toe, an exact copy of her.  Then, as if someone had flipped on a light, Karen morphed from a pale white body back to a dark brown body.

Mrs. van Vliets fell to the floor in a moist faint.

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“Intruder” by Cherie Ann Turpin Story #21 (30 Stories in 30 Days)

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“Intruder”

by Cherie Ann Turpin

Story #21

(30 Stories in 30 Days)

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Floating in yet another night quest, I landed in a hallway entrance of a house overlooking a tree-lined lake. Seeing stairs, I walked down to a door leading to yet another hallway.  Walking through, I somehow realized that this was a secret pathway in a house that I would soon visit in my waking hours.  I knew then I was an intruder in someone else’s astral world.

Why was I here?  Who would invite me to “invade” their “house”?  I ran through an unending room covered in black and white tile, finally floating into a large bedroom empty of furniture, save for an over-sized bed covered with a shiny, crimson sheet that seemed to flutter about like a watery surface.  As I walked towards the bed it became more animated in movement.  The corner on one end of the sheet lifted back to reveal a growing mass of snakes beneath the crimson satin.

At the far end of the room stood a tall, thin shadow resembling a man who seemed to be looking outside the large window into the moonlit night.  Bare-foot and bare-chested, he wore dark pants.  When he turned to me I gasped at what seemed to be a dark shadow masking his face.  As I began to panic, he spoke through the shadow covering his face: “you must escape before they find you. I will call for you again when I am free to reveal myself.  Go.  It is not safe for us to speak here.”

Was this Michael? What world was this where his bed was filled with vipers?  Were these his enemies? Or were they his familiars, or his guardians?  Unlike my other dreams, I was unable to speak these questions here.  He shook his head as if to forbid me from trying to speak.

He silently directed me by pointing to an escape hatch in the ceiling at the end of a hallway that somehow appeared.  I turned to thank the faceless man only to find him gone from the room.    I somehow flew or climbed up through the escape hatch only to be seen from below by a woman security guard, walkie-talkie and handcuffs in hand, who barked at me to come down, and who frightened me further by saying, “You are an outsider.  Either you come down right now, or you will be in serious trouble.”  As the woman spoke, I floated up to the next floor and saw another guard bearing down on me from the far end of the level I was now standing on.

I abruptly awakened, shaking slightly from fear of being caught by the guards in my dream.  I could still hear them calling to me.  I opened my eyes and saw a dark shadow hovering over me.  Freezing momentarily, I let out a brief, panicked scream, believing for a moment that I had not escaped the dangerous figures in my dream.  It sounded less like a scream, and more like a loud “huh-a” ending with deflating tone at the tail end of my breath.

Regaining my composure, I remembered that I had requested this contact be made in the dream world, and that he’d followed me back to my home in the waking world.  How was it I could see him when I was awake?  Did Michael know he was here in astral form?  Where was his sleeping body?  He hovered over me with his facial features unmasked, and silently watched me as I blinked in the shadowy room lit only by the streetlights and moonlight outside.

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