Author Archives: charitythomas

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About charitythomas

I am a highly skilled, innovative and experienced Art Department Coordinator, Associate Producer and Production Supervisor looking to bring my skills in-house. While working with talented and globally recognized musicians, producers, directors and networks such as Viacom, BP, HBO, Buscuit Filmworks, Anonymous Content, RSA, MJZ, Goldcrest Films, ESPN, Target and MAC Cosmetics, Barry Levinson and Spike Lee. I have a collaborative leadership style with a proven track record of producing projects on time and budget without compromising quality. I hold an M.A in Media Studies from The New School University and a Bachelor of Arts in Radio, TV, and Film from Howard University and extensive experience as a freelancer. I am looking for a home to develop and build a long lasting production team. Find me here: http://charitythomas.org

District 9

Take every film genre, or more specifically- every summer blockbuster genre, throw it in a blender and have Peter Jackson produce it and you’ll realize you’ve already seen District 9.

I was making a list of the styles:

  • documentary
  • aliens la “Aliens” a la The Fly
  • transfomations a la “The Fly”
  • firefights with big assed guns: see summer blockbusters
  • the alien buddy movie

Love, Sex and Magic? I don’t think so…by any stretch of the imagination

Note: Originally published 24 Mar 09

Today a friend of mine posted an article on Facebook asking why Justin Timberlake gets a pass to degrade black women. They were referring to his, rather Ciara’s new video for a song featuring JT. There were a lot of comments to the article about how he threw Janet under a bus during “Nipplegate”, but I’m on board with the commenter’s who asked “why would Ciara do this?”

I know, it’s a chicken/ egg question for the ages. They’re performers, artists, businesses. JT is like vocal gold in a landscape riddled with weak voices and fueled more by personal scandals than talent. I totally dig that. But it is the 21st century. Maybe she should read this and she wouldn’t be so quick to let some white dude, literally, yank her chain. Wasn’t she the dancing queen a few years ago when she was part of Missy’s crew?

I’ve gone on and on about black female sexuality and film, so all I can say right now is: Really?

Is this really a video today? Are we so willfully ignorant about our own history that we find this acceptable? I’m sick of blaming other people for our own lack of love and respect for ourselves. It’s a tired Civil Rights movement mentality. This young woman was told the concept and performed the video. She’s the one crawling all over this man (white or black) apparently desperate for his attention that only her body and sex can get her. Her “lyrics” are equally as needy and a plea for him to fall in love with her while having sex with her. I guess that’s the part that really disgusts me. A whole generation of young (and not so youthful) women believing that having “mad skills” in the bed will make a man “fall in love”. (Whatever that means to them.)

The theory is that all these gyrations are the thing that will build a lasting loving relationship. Having been both that young once and the older cynic that I am now, it’s depressing. It’s depressing because I have all these words for it, but it incites in me such a visceral reaction I just start yelling “stop acting like that, you’re fucking it up for all of us!!!!” And even if I said that, I’d be shouting at the wind. How can I tell these girls that shaking your booty to the detriment of your mind and self worth won’t get you love? Every other piece of media tells them the exact opposite.

They don’t want to sit around reading stuffy Sterling Brown or hear about Jezebel and her role in their oppression. Shit, they just want to look cute and get some numbers. I dig that. I’ve been there and still go there occasionally. But what I really want to say to them is that they’re worth more than that.

When I was in my early 20’s I worked on a video for Lil’ Kim, “Crush on You”, I was still just a Production Assistant (PA) and was therefore at the bottom of the production food chain. There were a lot of hip hop celebrities around cause Biggie was there and his album was dropping in 2 weeks. Luke had come with his entourage of ladies in sheer dresses with thongs on that beautiful 10 degree day in February. At some point in the 26 hour shoot day, I see a guy grab one of the dancers butt. He just walked up to her and grabbed it. I went up to her and asked if she knew him. She said “No, but he’s one of Mase’s boys”. I didn’t, then, know what a Mase was (nobody did- or would if Biggie had lived I think) and told her he didn’t have the right to touch her like that. She just giggled, repeated the same line, and walked away with him. I was furious. I went in the corner and wrote some moody poem about pain and there being no art there.

As the girl PA, I was especially conscience of my own sexuality because of the sexual attention I garnered from the hip hop dudes whose videos paid my rent. God forbid I should show up in clothes that showed my hot young body, cause they’d try the same thing with me. I remember one rapper (who will remain anonymous because I can’t remember who he was- one hit wonder I think) who couldn’t understand why I wasn’t lapping up his attentions. I was at work and so was he, I told him. His attention, though flattering, was inappropriate. The dancer girls called me a fool. He was rich (only he’s not now, I’m sure) and why wouldn’t I want to go out with a rapper? Cause he’s stupid, and arrogant, and shallow, and not a very good rapper. They thought I was stupid.

But the most important thing was, I didn’t like him and didn’t have to like him just because he found me attractive. I’m not on the slave block. And it’s not that I haven’t fallen into the trap and tried to “learn to like someone” who liked me. But it’s still a more intellectual exercise with an appropriate and seemingly compatible person than me humping the air so they can see how good a lay I am.

I just think more of myself. I think more of my mind than my body, because that’s what I’ve EARNED.  I thought I’d look like that forever too. But I don’t now, I look better. You can tell I read too much when you talk to me and that weeds out the riff-raff interested more in my rack than my spin on Foucault. When I tell young girls that their minds are their greatest asset, they look at me like I just farted out of my mouth. So what do you do about Justin Timberlake sexually degrading interactions with black women? Let him not find any black women to sexually degrade… that should be a cinch right? Maybe we can get Michelle Obama to help.

This is so bad

One of my love brothers died. As an only child, I adopt people I wish were related to me. Mary grew into a stellar blood component of my immediate family and that’s a treat. But I didn’t get Mae for 13 years after I’d developed this particular habit.

Here in NY, after B and Dane left, I only had Carl and he’s harder to catch than rabies. When the bar opened downstairs I got another bit of family that rescued me from my loneliness. Then, in 2007, the universe gave me 2 new brothers. T & Cakes. I remember telling Cakes about some wack nigga business and him being all “you know we’ve only known each other for a few months, right? And you’re blowing that nigga’s spot up.” My response was “uh un. Remember when we were in grade school and…” That’s how I felt. Like I’d known him forever. We’d just been separated. And w/T, who’d graduated from Howard the same day as me, it was easy. We had the same language. 

And to watch the two of them was to watch two men who loved and respected each other be able to demonstrate their love and respect. I’d just watch them laughing and hugging (T’s a big hugger) and smile. I love watching black men demonstratively love. 

I learned that my heart brother died. It was last Thursday and it’s been a whirlwind every since. I’ve barely been alone and when I am I just stare blankly at things. My current drug of choice is Law & Order. The original, cause I can’t deal with SVU right now. It’s comforting. I’m all about comfort right now.

I made my therapist cry yesterday. That’s cause he knows how much Cakes meant to me. He was my writing soulmate and hero. He was the coolest and you can hear his voice in every word he writes. 

That’s all I can do for now. I’ve got to take a shower and deal with one of the worst days I’ve had yet. Tonight is his memorial service and every time anyone hugs me they pour their sorrow into me. I’m exhausted and this is just the beginning.

This whole thing’s gonna change

I get so intimidated reading other people’s TV/Film type blogs. They’re so organized. I don’t always have something to say about every show I see. I watch way too much TV for that. So, from now on, I’m just going to write what the fuck I want to on here. I’m not monetized or anything and if someone wants to follow or comment, so be it. 

So here are my new favorite shows in no particular order:

Top Chef All Stars: My boyfriends Spike and Fabio are gone, but Carla’s still there and that pleases me. I also think I’m a little hooked because I’ve decided Padma looks and acts like my mom. So pretty.

Good Wife: As my friend Tanisha and I say “Good Wife Good”. It is. It’s an adult show with adult people and adult problems. Even the kids have adult problems and that’s like 1000% better than most alleged network dramas.

Damages: I know it’s not new yet, but I’m reliving it with a padawan and it’s fun to see it through new eyes. Since I’ve seen all of them I get to see how strong the storylines are and how well they have been followed. The character development is complex (even Rose Byrne impresses me with her Keanu Reeves style of acting). 

RuPaul’s Drag Race: Well, duh and/or hello. No explanation needed. Drag queens competing. RuPaul. Every show should be this good.

Archer: I had something for this. It’s one of the most fucked up 1/2h going. And many of my new catchphrases come from it [see duh and/or hello above].

*tiny, tiny writing* Vampire Diaries: Leave the 17 year old girl inside me alone. It’s not her fault. Boone from Lost is on it and she loves Boone. Get over yourselves. And it’s what I watch with my little sister (and a few select adult friends). 

SUPERNATURAL: I have no shame in my love of Dean. I love him. I love him. I love him. But I’ve always had a soft spot for a bowlegged man. The angels, demons, monsters, Lucifer (Jacob from Lost), Death…I mean really. What’s there to not like? Before I watched it and saw the commercials I’d get mad that I’d wasted time on that fucking Heroes and had missed the beginning of Supernatural. I’d say “man, that show looks good” and I had no idea what I’d been missing. And it’s all meta. It makes me feel like my masters in media studies wasn’t a waste. (Though daily the job market insures me it was.)

30 Rock: For all the obvious reasons. It makes me miss going to work sometimes too.

My Heart is Broken

This is one of my favorites from Cakes:

Monday, June 02, 2008
bloody knuckles

i got into a fight.

it was in front of the bar. it started out as an innocent confrontation that turned into a shoving match which then mutated into a beat down and finally evolved into an all out brawl. i dont think i started it, but i guess, in a way, i did.

it all started with a cigarette, or more to the point, my desire for one. i was at the bar having an animated conversation with my friend CT when the very familiar urge to inhale nicotine swept through us both. we put napkins on our drinks and headed towards the door. no one was fighting yet.

the door opens outward and in front of it, preventing our exit, was a kid, about 20 years old, shirtless and in sagging shorts, pushing a girl around his age into the door. it looked as if they were playing – one of those aggressive, sexual games that involve a lot of contact – and i just said to them, “you cant do that here, you have to move out of the doorway.”

thats when the kid freaked out. i dont know what his problem was, maybe he and the girl werent playing, and he was really angry at something she had done. maybe he misheard me and thought i’d actually said, “i fucked your mother.” maybe he had taken some bad steroids and they’d just kicked in. maybe he has father issues and i look just too damned similar. i dont know what it was, but the kid was furious.

he’s screaming at me unintelligibly. angry, hateful gibberish that im sure we have all spouted off at one time or another. at first im kind of shocked, then confused. remember, i’d initially figured he and the girl were just having fun, so the change was so sudden it seemed like i had hit some dreadful switch in his psyche that indicated BRING THE PAIN. i had to stare at him a moment and gather if he was serious or not. i’m not a small man, and although he had his shirt off and could act extremely peeved, i wasnt as afraid of him as i was bemused.

he was pushing up against me with his chest, a torrent of curses and challenges roaring from his mouth to my face. i pushed him away from me and i think said something to the effect of, “you better back up off of me kid.” he didnt. his tirade just grew in fury. he was pushing me, still wild and screaming. i stared at him a second, hoping maybe he would calm down. he didnt. he pushed me a few more times. i waited for him to throw a punch but then he just pushed me again.

so i socked him in the jaw.

the next two seconds were long and somewhat dramatic. the first second was filled with us looking at each other. he looked confused that i had hit him and i looked confused that he looked so confused. the next second was filled with a gasp. then someone said “ooooh.”

then they were upon me.

the rising sounds of grunts and yells swelled in the street. voices heading my way. an army of growls. i look and see about ten kids storming my way. fist clenched. all baggy clothes and screwed up faces. a herd of angry teenagers barreling straight towards me. thats when i think “ok, im gonna get my ass kicked. i better just brace myself for it.”

i move from the doorway so as not to be trapped. i push someone, i dont know who, away from me, and three kids are already at me. i cant remember if they are punching or shoving or what. i see a long arm come at me from over the top them and it connects with my temple. there is that ringing white light you see and hear when getting hit hard. more yelling. hands everywhere. i’m pushing people away. shoving. not throwing punches, trying to keep my arms close to protect myself. more kids are on me. fist rain down on my head and body. my shoulder slams against a wall. i continued shoving and pushing, keeping my arms close. my friend Griddy comes from no where and punches a guy whose hand is clawing for my face, connecting squarely with his jaw. i see the kid crumble a bit. then half the kids go for Griddy. then im backed in a door way with 5-7 kids on me and im pushing them away. someone is pulling kids off of me and someone is saying whoa! whoa! whoa! and arms are flailing everywhere. it is pandemonium.

there is a small moment of calm while everyone assesses the situation. i am in front of a door and three kids are in front of me. one of them being the kid i hit. he makes his approach and then a foot flies from no where and kicks him back. i wonder where it came from and i realize im standing behind CT, towering so far above her i dont even realize shes in front of me. she says, “you better get back!” and the kid steps back. i just stand behind her, waiting, when i see some guy on the ground getting kicked. its Griddy. so i race over there and start pushing kids off of him and lift him from the ground. he is a little hurt but he stands firm, adrenaline firing on all cylinders. fist still clenched. we look around, prepared, but the kids then scatter. all of them. they leave. up the block. under cars. behind bushes in the shadows. suddenly they are gone.

the police come and ask questions. my hand is bleeding where i split my knuckle. i tell them what happened and we all just shrug our shoulders and say, “kids.” i go back in the bar and we talk more about what happened over whiskey shots and beer and cigarettes. a complex rush of violence, fear, and testosterone shivers through me. i ask myself over and over weather or not i should have hit the kid but can only come to one conclusion: what else could i have done?

now i have to be wary of the neighborhood i work in, which is unnerving to say the least.

posted by -jkg at 5:16 PM

Link

NEW YORK CITY 1990’s – Photo archives by Gregoire Alessandrini: MEAT MARKET (Meat Packing District) 1990’s – FINAL UPDATE – NEW IMAGES –

So What, I’ve started watching 90210 again…

So Tanisha started it.  Now I’m right there between 10a-12p texting her like a 17 year old.  Thrilled that texting didn’t exist in my youth or I could have kissed that honors program scholarship good-bye.

We’ve observed that :
-20th century rich and 21st century rich is WAY different.  Like Bruce Wayne rich vs Tony Stark rich. 90210 in the ’90’s rich was BMW & Porche.  Today the Gossip Girl kids have drivers.  There weren’t many maids and nannies on 90210.  It was like working class rich.  There was a lot of shopping, but it’s TV and there’s always a lot of shopping.
-The Walsh twins are narcissitic assholes.
-Actually Brenda was the sanest one cause she got out of that incestual moshpit.