The short version: I was able to open for Angie Stone last night ... and set the mic on fire! The long version: I know the publisher and editorial staff at Ya Heard Magazine and contacted them all last month about opening their Angie Stone concert. "Yada, yada, get back to you, yada." Their follow-up was "Hey, we'll do a poetry pre-show!" Umm. No? I gave them my unsolicited feedback about why I didn't think that idea was right for this event. "Yada, yada ..." It was a wrap, in my book. I tried, right? Then I get an email around 4 hours before concert time from a sista I know telling me she's looking forward to seeing me at the pre-show party? "Cool, see you there!" I say. Next: "Hello? I'm ... performing ... for you tonight, I hear?" Apologies. Explanations. Directions. Shuffling schedules with husband. Secure babysitter. Pizza Hut instead of teriyaki chicken. Staring into the closet. Pack CDs and children. Race. The pre...
Dasha Kelly Hamilton's ramblings, writing and random, wild imaginings.