Violation

I remember a few years back when a slew of well-renown actors were bitching and moaning about people from other areas of entertainment deciding to try their hands at acting. When Ludacris started doing a buncha movies, Samuel L. Jackson had a FIT and I remember thinking WTF is the big deal? These are not roles you would have even entertained; he isn't taking food off your table. Why do you care if he wants to expand his horizons and take a shot in your industry? How well or bad he fares has no bearing on you or make you any less of a monster at what you do. What is the fucken problem? I really did not understand..... until now.


Luda is probably not the best example because I feel like he has pretty decent chops to not have formally studied, but Samuel L. Jackson and others like him spent years, if not their whole lives, honing their crafts. Others still, who may not have had to work as long or hard, carry their art in their very bones. You can’t blame them for taking exception to someone “infiltrating” the game and not appearing to take it seriously. It’s the reason for all the mad rappers and the seemingly petty runway beefs all these bloggers stay writing about. You heard Erykah Badu; true artists really are sensitive about their shit.


That being said, I’m struggling today. I’m struggling with hurt feelings and disrespect and all-around piss poor execution of a book that was no more helpful to anybody than it was entertaining. In my opinion, it failed miserably on both counts and the fact that the author used and took credit for ideas of MINE – words that have come from this very blog and private conversations between her and I – unfortunately overshadows the courage and personal growth this project was purposed for. I feel violated, both personally and as an artist. Some things should just be…… I don’t know….. spoken about in high school assemblies across the nation and not half-assed into a literary work.


And that’s all Im gonna say about it.