Beach Boys

“Man to hell wit what you talkin’ bout!”
“I’m serious now.  I tell you there ain’t nothing like a woman with great big legs.”

“Oh yeah, Lena Mae got great big legs, and a great big ole ass, and stomach.”

“Big women treat you good Marsh, and they cook!”

“I ain’t nevah met nobody fulla more horse shit than you Octavius Greene. I declare. If you wanna talk to her friend, go on over there and talk to her and leave me out of it.”

“Women team up.  I ain’t gonna get two words outta that gal unless I bring you with me to keep Lena busy, you know that.”

“Take a sandwich over there.  That’ll keep her busy.”

“You ain’t worth a damn. What you got against Lena anyway?  Seem like I can recollect last summer you ain’t have a problem with Lena being plump at all. Seem like what I remember is you liked that a whole lot.”

“Man hush.”

“She put you down didn’t she?!”

“Get on away from me Octavius.”

“Marshall Chesterfield let a woman put him down! LAWD have mercy! The dignified educated nigger himself!”

“I said be quiet you red sonofabitch!”

“Marshall, what’s the matter with you man?! I was just joshin’ with you.”

“She said I was too black.”

“Lena Mae?”

“Yeah, said we could fool around however much we wanted to, but she couldn’t marry me.”

“You wanted to marry Lena Mae Taylor?!”

“Shit yeah man, the Taylors are a good family.”

“That why you wanted to marry her?”

“Yeah! Her father could get me a real good job when I get outta school. I had it planned out.  After you left last summer.  I courted her … boy I tell you, I bought that broad flowers, took her to the pictures, we was gettin’ pretty hot and heavy, then she laid it on me: “I like you a lot Marsh, but my daddy won’t let me be with nobody near as dark as you, plus you don’t really come from nothin’ ”

“Marsh, you know them Taylors.”

“Yeah, I know em. Hell with ’em.  I’ll make it just fine on my own. High yella niggas.”

“I ain’t gonna hear too much more a that.”

“What you gone do yella?”

“I’ma beat yo black ass is what I’m gone do, but I gotta do it before sun down else I won’t be able to see you.”

“You a fool Octavius.”

“Yep, a fool looking for a good time.  Now you gone go over there with me so I can get the first shot at this fine new gal or what?”

“I s’pose so.  Lena always up for a good time.”

“You rascal!  Look they wavin’ at us. Lena even got a camera. She gone take our picture.”

“I sure hope you show up in it.  It is daytime you know.”

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Throw Stacey On The Plane

Dearest From the Rose’s Mouth followers and random finders of my writing,

I have been accepted to NYU‘s Tisch School of the Arts Asia for dramatic writing with a concentration in playwriting.  This would requite me to relocate to Singapore for two years, an extremely exciting yet extremely expensive endeavor.  You can help me get there!  Besides getting my tuition covered – a scholarship and loan are helping with that, my next biggest hurdle is affording the trip over.  I’ve set up a fund to cover the cost of travel to and from Singapore for the duration of my time there.  Any little bit that you can give would help tremendously! Also, PLEASE feel free to pass this along to any giving soul you know!

Click here to Throw Stacey On The Plane

Rosie.

Here’s a funny thing to watch! Written and directed by me :).

It’s in (here)

I want wake up one day and get faith.  I want to be wildly optimistic and accepting of my path.  I want to be able to have a direct line that that thing that it that entity that lives in me that I catch peripheral glimpses of when I’m playing with my nephew or laughing with my friends, or holding someone’s hand while they are dying, or comforting someone who has lost.  That stillness. That sureness that what I’m doing is right.

I want the faith in me and my abilities that others have.  It’s as if there is another Stacey Rose that I can feel just there in the shadows but who disappears when I turn to look her in the eye. I want to be emotionally and spiritually self sufficient. I want the well wishes and compliments of others to accentuate a knowing that I already have instead of being the foundation for what I know and believe about me.

Don’t try to sell me on religion, cause I ain’t buying. Every spirit speaks in a different tongues, and mine just happens to be multilingual. Just pray, in whatever way you do, that I find it.

Rosie.

Singapore Girl

I’ve been a lil silent here lately. It’s mainly been because I was locked in crippling fear about my future.  Now that I know to some small degree what the next few months hold for me, I’m paralyzed in fear.  At least when I was crippled I could wiggle around a little bit.

Okay, I’ll stop being vague now.  I was accepted into the Dramatic Writing Program at NYU‘s Tisch School of the Arts … in Singapore.  The idea of me relocating to Singapore was not some grand pre-existing life path I’d put my self on. It actually thinly presented itself to me as a simple check off box in my NYU Tisch New York application.

“Would you like to be considered for Tisch Asia?”

“Sure!”

I thought.

“Why the fuck not? Since I’m applying to grad school why not just balls it all the way out!”

I check the box, complete the application and submit all the required hutzpa by 11:59 pm 12/1/11. Then I proceed through four months of self induced torture, applying to grad school after grad school only to have my spirit swallowed whole and shat out by the  Ivy’s, The “First Choice” school, and even my shit kicking “safe school” (those bastards rejected me FIRST – there will be blood.)

The only institution left was NYU, and it wasn’t looking too promising.  I’d sent the app four months before and heard not word the first. Then …

“Dear Graduate Dramatic Writing applicant,

Greetings.  Your application has been selected as part of a small group of semi-finalists under consideration for the M.F.A Graduate Dramatic Writing program at NYU Tisch School of the Arts Asia in Singapore.  We would like to request an interview with you regarding your admission to our program.”

My sphincters tightened. My mind raced. I hadn’t even sent my materials to Singapore as the application had called for. I was confused. It was an interview though, and after having endured a grad app process reminiscent of 300, some redemption was in order.  On March 9th 2012, I interviewed  and it was fantastic.  They liked me.  They really liked me. More important, I liked them.  It seemed as if the program was made for me and had been placed in front of me randomly because, quite frankly, I’m a coward. The idea of attending school abroad is slightly horrifying.

I then began to consider Singapore, for real this time.  I did a little internet digging and discovered the beauty of the country and how doable the transition from here to there would be. Still, after the slaughter I’d been through, I didn’t allow myself to explore much further.  I went back to life as usual.

Then I began to notice the calendar.  Days eeked by. Hours. Minutes.  I scoured the grad forums for answers.  The ones I received only made me desperate for more.  I swore the forums off, then went back five minutes later.  We were tortured souls yearning, burning, dying to be liberated from purgatory! Then it hit me.  I could call!  So, I called NYU New York and got the most loving caring rejection I’d received all season. I was reminded to keep Tisch Asia in mind and that their decisions were just around the corner.

Gently let down, and still quite defeated, I attempted to go on.  I threw myself into work, and in the back of my mind lingered thoughts of Tisch Asia.  I’d almost resolved that I wasn’t going to get in this round until …

“Dear Stacey,
 
Congratulations! You have been admitted to the Tisch School of the Arts.”

I came completely unglued, interrupting every business deal and break up chat at the Starbucks I was in.  Baristas came to check on my psychological well being.  It was fandamtastic.

Since then, the black fog of fear has settled in for what I hope is a brief stay.  Among the shit storm stirring in the fog are the thoughts:

“Yeah, you’re scholarshipped, but it doesn’t nearly cover everything.”

“Bitch, it’s Asia.”

“What are you gonna do with that boy?”

“BITCH, it’s Asia.”

“Will you have to work?! Shit, you can work and go to school in Charlotte!”

“BITCH IT’S ASIA!”

All of this while trying to live a semi-normal life over the past three days.  The good news is I know I’ll survive. The not so good is that I’ll have to re-live my middle school/high school emotions during the process. There is a hell of a lot of grown up work for me to do and it’ll suck having to do it while still feeling like a chubby wheezy nerd that Jake Ryan will NEVER ask to the prom.

Yes, a new chapter in the life of this completely sane lunatic has begun. Pull up a chair, grab some concessions, and join me.  This shit outta be good.

Rosie.

*Update:  I’ve set up a fund to help pay for my trip over!

“Throw Stacey On The Plane!”  make it rain please.

gracious thank yous!

Oddly this was one of my favorite commercials when I was a tyke.