[Jonathan Fagan]: Давайте посмотрим, что они сделали вчера вечером для нашего студенческого вечера. Это выглядит потрясающе. Моего отца зовут Ави Фэган. Я пошутил, что из-за этого он ушел на пенсию, за что мы ему очень благодарны. Спасибо нашим волонтерам и сотрудникам, Риз и Эли. Они продали несколько книг.
[SPEAKER_00]: И конечно моя партнерша Шейла, без нее я не могу обойтись.
[Jonathan Fagan]: Гала сидит на лестнице и помогает контролировать звук. И, конечно же, был Терри Картер, настоящая причина того, что произошло в общественном центре Вест-Медфорд. Он является частью невероятного сообщества и поэзии. Все хорошо. О, что еще я сделал? Джим и Брюс также помогали с фотосъемкой на выходных. Таким образом, даже многим людям все еще нужны различные финансовые вклады, чтобы что-то произошло. Если вы посмотрите на наши баннеры, у нас много спонсоров. Медфордские общественные СМИ и, конечно же, Вестерфордский общественный центр Медфордского культурного совета, Совета народной культуры и Фонда искусств Медфьюд. Это также наш первый год работы с поставщиками продуктов питания.
[SPEAKER_00]: Датская кондитерская внутри.
[Jonathan Fagan]: Они создали невероятные макеты, которые превзошли все ожидания. Между мелодиями, между группами смотрите их. Внутри также есть туалет для тех, кому необходимо им воспользоваться. Да, здесь также есть Triangle Manor (местная компания по производству футболок, которая производит отличные футболки для всех) и Exletty. Есть также индивидуальные спонсоры, например те, которые зарегистрированы на нашей странице Patreon. Это ежемесячная подписка, которая отлично подходит для развлечений и других выступлений в течение года. Повсюду есть QR-код для тех, кто чувствует вдохновение сделать пожертвование, будь то наша страна (которая недавно была на фестивале джаз-джаз) или конкретная страница с тыквой, которая очень популярна. Да, я так думаю. Мне всегда кажется, что я забыл о таком парне, но да, зайди позже, и Терри расскажет тебе немного о первой команде и вакансиях.
[Terry Carter]: Вау, спасибо, спасибо. Джонатан Фэган — организатор и основатель Медфордского джазового фестиваля и успешный пианист во всех регионах, так что вы скоро услышите о нем. Это Общественный центр Вест-Медфорда. Мы на рынке уже 90 лет. У нас есть Африканское сообщество История Африки Медфорд Африки Вы знаете, мы находимся рядом с загадочной рекой. У нас долгая история с реками и тремя дорогами, о которых вы услышите позже. Но мы хотим раскрыть свои сильные стороны и убедиться, что это не тратит наше время зря. Наша первая акция на второй день. Всем, кто был с нами вчера вечером, мы прекрасно провели время, выступая вчера вечером, включая всех звезд джаза из великолепной утренней музыкальной школы. И с Анитой Ву и ее командой, с Эй-Джеем, я имею в виду, мы получили отличный опыт. Они позволили мне потанцевать еще до окончания вечера, так что все было в порядке. Спасибо. Вчера вечером Дебби пела со всеми участниками Morningside Jazz Alls, и это было потрясающе. Нашим первым выступлением в субботу было выступление самбы в исполнении одноименной группы Jacob de Bandolim. Что это значит для португальцев, вы знаете, я только что узнал в первоисточнике Рецепты от Samba, программы под названием «группа», целью которой является продемонстрировать различные оттенки бразильской музыки в ее самой чистой форме, без моих любимых искусственных дополнений, таких как электронные барабаны или электронные сэмплы. Повара, шеф-повара и жены Анны Фарм и Билла Вуда будут использовать для приготовления лучший бразильский музыкальный сет.
[Unidentified]: Лучшее.
[Terry Carter]: Выдающиеся Нова и Самба, а также местные деликатесы, такие как Форт, Ичча и КаКао.
[Clayton]: Надеюсь, у меня все хорошо.
[Terry Carter]: Знаешь, чего не знают мои бразильцы? АНА Борге родилась в Ресифи, Пернамбуку, и начала свою карьеру в Бразилиа, пела в местных клубах и театрах.
[Unidentified]: Затем он научился играть на гитаре и пошел в музыкальную школу в Бразилии, чтобы изучать пение. Джейн Дюбоуз SHINSENS Изучите техники классического и эстрадного пения.
[Terry Carter]: После многолетнего тесного сотрудничества с бразильским гитаристом Алжосоном АлаНтарой он переехал в Бостон, где и начал с ним сотрудничать. Билл Уорд, Билл Уорд, Билл Уорд. Он пианист, гитарист и певец, пробившийся в мир музыки. Мне нравится, что. Это стихотворение. Он начинал как пианист, получив лучший результат в средней школе, а затем учился в Музыкальной консерватории О'Брайена у Дэна Уолла и Сэма де Марлиса. В 13 лет он записал свою первую пластинку с Джорджио Берто, но они расстались только в колледже. Это глубже, и это настоящее стихотворение с вихрем бразильской музыки. Недавно она погрузилась в мир классического фортепиано, получив степень магистра по игре на фортепиано в Бостонском университете, где училась у Гойи Чаррон и Гильды Гольдштейн. Дамы и господа, без лишних слов, пожалуйста, произнесите речь Самбы.
[Clayton]: Я прихожу к тебе, я прихожу к тебе, у меня ничего нет, так и будет, я потеряла столько любви, уже слишком поздно, я потеряла Город, пожалуйста, прости меня. Я не знаю, есть ли у тебя такая красивая жизнь. Город, пожалуйста, прости меня. Я думал, что уйду, я думал, что умру. Город, пожалуйста, прости меня. Иностранные женщины Прости меня, но я не знаю, познала бы ты жизнь без меня. Мы тебя любим! Удачи!
[SPEAKER_02]: Большое спасибо. Первую песню написал Карлос Вира, знаете ли, Бог вашего Бога, Теманован. Так что, пожалуйста, простите меня, если уже слишком поздно. Это название. Я попробую это перевести.
[Clayton]: Я не очень хорош, но думаю, вы поймете, что я пою.
[SPEAKER_02]: Итак, следующая часть похожа на джазовые влияния. Тогда есть влияние джаза. Так что я также читаю песни, мне нравятся джазовые влияния и музыканты. Например, когда вы говорите об одиночестве, оно есть у вас, но оно есть и в джазе. Знаешь, ты увидишь, как пойдет.
[Clayton]: ជនបរទេស ជនបរទេស Но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но, но
[Unidentified]: Следовать всем
[Clayton]: នារីបរតេស នារីបរតេស លោតទៅហកបើហួយហ្កាថយទៅហួយទៅហ្កាថយទៅហ្កាថយទៅរត់ទៅហែកឡើងទៅ អរកុន ខ្ញុំគិតថាផ្នែកបន្ទាប់ដូចដែលអ្នកប្រហែលជាដឹងគឺជារលក។ ប៉ុន្តែខ្ញុំគិតថាវាគ្រាន់តែជាសកម្មភាពមួយដែលអ្នកអាចធ្វើបាន។ វាមិនអាចទៅរួចទេក្នុងការសប្បាយចិត្តតែម្នាក់ឯងនៅពេលដែលមានស្នេហា។ ខ្ញុំមិនអាចស្គាល់បានទេព្រោះខ្ញុំមិនដឹងថាត្រូវនិយាយអ្វី។ ទាំងនេះគឺជារបស់តិចតួចដែលមកហើយទៅ។ ពរជ័យសមាធិសុភមង្គលតែម្នាក់ឯងមិនអាចធ្វើទៅបានទេ។ នេះគឺជាទីក្រុងមួយ។ នេះគឺជាទីក្រុងមួយ។ នេះគឺជាទីក្រុងមួយ។ នេះគឺជាទីក្រុងមួយ។ អ្វីដែលអាចមើលឃើញមានតែមិនអាចមើលឃើញប៉ុណ្ណោះ។ ខ្ញុំនឹងត្រឡប់ទៅឆ្នេរវិញ។ វាមិនអាចទៅរួចទេក្នុងការនៅម្នាក់ឯងនៅទីនេះ។ អ្វីដែលខ្ញុំមិនដឹងពីរបៀបប្រើគឺសន្តិភាពដែលខ្ញុំមិនត្រូវការ។ បៃតងនិងខៀវបៃតងនិងខៀវ។ វាមិនអាចទៅរួចទេក្នុងការនៅម្នាក់ឯងនៅទីនេះ។
[Unidentified]: Я не знаю текстов. Музыка
[Clayton]: И Оркон
[SPEAKER_02]: Я хочу перейти к следующему.
[Clayton]: Иногда мы спорим на тему «Я хочу спеть эту песню». Наверное, я не хочу играть эту песню. Какой я? Но это не имеет значения. У нас все еще есть Я привезу Иисуса танцевать, самбу, пить и смотреть теннис. Магия меня привлекает. Мое сердце течет. Я был в Баии, на уличной вечеринке. В Cantina DA Lua есть Samba. Выпейте немного и взгляните еще раз на ту магию, которая меня очаровывает. Мое сердце течет. Я в Баии, я здесь. Я пошел на лунный фестиваль В лунной таверне вам придется спуститься. Вы можете быть уверены, что стол белый. Я буду хлопать в ладоши в вере. Я родом из здоровья, вот откуда я родом. Ох, ох, ох! И ដែល ការ កាន់ Я из Диско, я из Йода, у меня есть ракушки сапу в Гоа и бананы. Я родом из здоровья, вот откуда я родом. Я из Гамбуа, в ПрчаМуаа я танцор самбы. Я не здоров, я далеко от этого. Все началось, когда папой была Мама Баба Баба. ♪ Я из Эстасио Я оттуда ប៉ Панама, две ноги, пойду во 2-м часу декабря пойду на помощь доберусь Оркон Песни Джойо Боско всегда сумасшедшие. Это земля Иисуса, из которой пришел Иисус.
[SPEAKER_02]: Это место в Баии, а в Баии их много, и у нас много африканских пожертвований. Как он описал, откуда он родом, это была очень мощная и красивая песня. Петь по субботам утром тяжело. Певцы любят петь по ночам. Ох, я устал. Итак, вернемся к остальному — Samba. Сампа — это аббревиатура Святого Павла. Именно работа Каэтано Велозу заранее описывает, что из себя представляет танец Самбы. Как город Сан-Паулу похож на Нью-Йорк. Поэтому он сказал красивые вещи и стихи о святом Павле. Этот путь тихий.
[Clayton]: Что случилось со мной, когда я въехал на Авенида Эпиранга и в Сан-Жуан-Жуан и когда добрался сюда, я ничего не понял. Натара, конкретное стихотворение его песни, получательница женской милости. Полного перевода у меня пока нет, чтобы отомстить. Что-то произошло внутри меня. ♪ Только когда ты проходишь через Ипирангу и Авенида Сан♪ Когда я смотрю на тебя прямо, я называю это безвкусицей, дурным лицом ♪ Оно рождается слабым, но это «Раньше еще не было, когда нам не исполнилось пяти лет, трудное начало, заставившее меня не осознавать, что это из другого сна, и город радости быстро научился называть себя». Угнетенные выстраиваются у гитарной линии. Благодаря силе денег они могут строить и разрушать великие вещи. Потому что дым звучит плохо. Я вижу твоего поэта, твою студию в джунглях, твоего Бога, твоего Бога с полей и просторов. ПАН Америка, Африка, Утопия, Самба, скорее всего New Raw Ghosts и New Bahians Новые отруби смогут развлечься. ♪ Я вижу твоих поэтов с полей и ветра របស់ Твоя лесная мастерская, Бог дождя! ♪♪ Фан-США в Африке YouTube Большая часть могилы Самбы - это Зомби Квиломбо ♪♪ Новая Баия гуляет под дождём ♪♪ Новая Баия может принести вам... ♪♪ Оркон Я думаю, если ты хочешь танцевать, ты должен это знать и чувствовать себя комфортно.
[SPEAKER_02]: Я ничего не скажу.
[Clayton]: Самба. И Но качество Самбы сочетается с Мараканой, И Самое главное, что он блокирует то, что я хочу получить, потому что Самба жива и все, что я хочу, это твоя черная Самба Черная Самба и самое главное Самба настолько хороша, что ты не хочешь. Большое спасибо.
[SPEAKER_02]: Все хорошо. Больше песен для танцев. Это Чико Буарке, один из моих любимых. Это невероятно. Это значит, пусть девушки танцуют. Ни в коем случае не прекращайте чтение. Он плохой муж. Так что позвольте ему танцевать.
[Clayton]: Со мной ты в безопасности, дитя мое, но ты будешь совершать ошибки, но ты совершишь много ошибок. В 10 часов танец самбы горячий, радует бридель, заставляет девушек тихо танцевать. Я не хочу разбрасываться конфетти, но я должен это сказать. Вы устали. Вы страдаете. Девушкам может надоесть, если ты будешь бегать, как этот муж. ខាងក្រោយ За грустным мужчиной всегда стоит счастливая женщина ខាងក្រោយ За этой женщиной стоят тысячи мужчин, о которых ты вычеркиваешь ее из головы ♪♪ Я не знаю, стоит ли тебе быть счастливой. ♪ Подожди ♪ Уже 10 часов, горячая лапша самбы ♪ Порадуй брюнетку ♪ Оставь Самбу в покое ខាងក្រោយ За грустным мужчиной всегда стоит счастливая женщина ♪♪ За этой женщиной стоят тысячи очень добрых мужчин! ♪ Но все очень плохо ♪ Сейчас 10 часов, а Самба горячая ♪♪ Брюнетки радуются ♪♪ Оставив Самбу одну ♪♪ Я не хочу бросать конфетти ♪ Больно ♪ Сейчас 3 часа, когда Самба горячая, радуй брюнетку и не мешай певцу Самбы. За грустным мужчиной всегда стоит счастливая женщина. И за этой женщиной всегда стоит мужчина. ♪ Для вашей пользы О! Оркон Я просто хочу еще раз поблагодарить всех вас за приглашение Грега, и я вместе волнуюсь.
[SPEAKER_02]: Это наш первый раз. Замечательно быть здесь. рексато малавати. Меня зовут Анна Амбул. Присоединяйтесь к списку рассылки наших рецептов Samba Medford Medford. Я поощряю мероприятия. Я также являюсь концертным промоутером. Мы сделали то же самое в Медфорде. И играть дома действительно здорово. Очень красиво, очень красиво. Хорошо, тогда пойдем... Возможно, вы тоже это знаете.
[Clayton]: ♪ Ты видишь эту любовь, я никогда ее не видела ♪ Такое бывает, она не прекращается, но посмотри на меня, я побегу за ним, я скажу тебе, что любовь для того, чтобы отдавать ♪♪♪♪♪♪ ♪ Когда он увидел девушку, он остановился и встал, у нее до сих пор сухое лицо, ты не можешь перестать спать, я не хочу спать. ♪♪ Хако, но ты не пришёл, ты пришёл ♪ тогда неважно, просто скажи это, я хочу поговорить с небом, но ты пришёл ♪ [♪ Пение на португальском ♪♪♪♪ Я просил тебя, но ты не пришел អ្នក Какую любовь ты видела, я никогда не видела ничего подобного. ♪ Когда он увидел эту девушку, он все еще был таким и встал. Он всегда был тем, кем я никогда не был, когда уставал спать из-за меня. ♪♪ Но ты не придешь អ្នក Ты придешь ♪ Тогда я не скажу, я скажу, что уже сказала, детка, но ты придешь ♪ Оркон
[SPEAKER_02]: Давайте сделаем барокко. Да, ей нравится музыка барокко. Давайте сделаем это. Это от Додо Кон Мими. Это еще одна песня о любви. Давайте сделаем барокко.
[Clayton]: ស្រឡាញ់ Любовь к кому-то не причиняет тебе вреда ♪♪ Нет, я не я មិនមែន Я не занимаюсь любовью ♪♪ Нет, я не я Любовь оживает. Тебя отвезут в тюрьму. Когда это происходит, я тоже. Как и в самом важном и любимом доме нашей жизни, в жизни есть свои игры. Если вы любите кого-то, вы не окажете себе никакой пользы. Это не я или кто-то еще. Любовь оживает. Вы не знаете Друзья, сделайте вашу игру важной в нашей жизни. ♪ Ты не следуешь за собой, когда любишь кого-то ♪♪ Нет, я не я не я ♪♪ Я не занимался любовью, не я ♪ Когда любовь приходит в жизнь, ты не готов, а я нет. Дорогая моя, на всю жизнь, насколько это важно? Нет ничего хорошего в том, чтобы любить кого-то. Не я, не я, не я. Я не занимался любовью. Не я, не я. Оркон Это песня, которую мы можем петь целый день одну и ту же песню, верно? Очень хороший. Мне нравится, что. Снова? Все хорошо.
[SPEAKER_02]: Было здорово вернуться в Медфорд. С вами большая и особенная аудитория. Спасибо, что пригласили нас. Извините, я не могу вспомнить ваше имя.
[Clayton]: Это слишком быстро. Но еще раз спасибо, что приняли нас. Пожалуйста, спойте последнюю песню. Что самое лучшее в последней песне?
[SPEAKER_02]: Напиток? Да, сделай это. Вы знали? Пить и балансировать? Все хорошо. Это еще одна песня Джо Боско. Итак, давайте начнем. Высокая мощность и увеличение очков.
[Clayton]: Коробка И каждой холодной звезде подарить яркий свет. Облака на небе фиксируют точку страдания. Роторный Победить иностранцев Каждый ваш шаг может нарушить баланс, который вы знаете о выступлении каждого артиста. Оркон Большое спасибо. Билл Вуд, Гретато Торо и Рената Мараваса. Меня зовут Анна Амбул. На следующей неделе мы играем на Гарвард-сквер. Если вы спросите меня, я могу рассказать вам больше. Оркон Все хорошо.
[Terry Carter]: О, это Вест Медфорд. Вам не придется искать. Решета де Самба, Билл Уорд играет на фортепиано. Голос Анны Борхес. Грег Торо — музыкант. Тогда скажи мне еще раз. И барабанщик Ренато. Все хорошо. Очень хороший. Хорошо, мы расслабимся и подготовимся к двум мероприятиям. Рекомендую посетить датскую пекарню, потому что они ее обновляют. Внутри много вкусной еды. Весь сахар и масло в тесте и множество вкусов в разделе поиска. Так что знаешь, сделай это сам. У них есть лимонный сок и холодная вода. Так что все в порядке. Все хорошо. Увидимся через несколько минут.
[SPEAKER_03]: Я никогда не знал, на что они способны. Я не верю, что ты любишь меня. Ты говоришь всем, кого я знаю, что я в твоих мыслях, куда бы ты ни пошел. Я не верю, что это ты В конце дня мне очень повезло. Я не верю в то, что они могут сделать. Я не верю, что ты любишь меня. Ты говоришь всем, кого я знаю, что я в твоих мыслях, куда бы ты ни пошел. Чем ближе я подхожу к дому счастливчика, тем сильнее себя чувствую.
[Terry Carter]: All right. All right. Hello everybody. All right. So we had a beautiful first set. They said that they samba was marvelous. Really really good. And hopefully we will at least meet if not exceed your expectations for the second part of our program today. For those of you who don't know me or who I haven't had a chance to meet yet, my name is Terry Carter, Terry E. My mother says use the initial, that's why I gave it to you. So it's Terry E. Carter, E stands for Eugene. And I direct elder services here at the community center. I'm not going to talk a lot, but I do want you to know just a little bit about We've been in business for 90 years representing the historic African American community of West Medford and this is the second building on the site. The first building was little more than an old army Quonset hut that was brought here from the defunct army base in East Boston going way back, World War II. And it was set on the site and it remained our home from like 1945 to the early 2000s. And then it basically collapsed under its own weight. And we were fortunate enough over the next several years thereafter to build this building. And this is the current home of an organization that really, really is very near and dear to my heart. I grew up in West Medford. I'm born and raised on Jerome and Monument Streets, not too far from here. And so the community center, Duggar Park, where all the basketball players are, well, you know, another story for another day. And, let's see, Duggar Park. the Hervey School, Shiloh Baptist Church, a couple other places. If our parents didn't know where we were, they knew where to find us, okay? Because we were at one of those three or four places. But in any case, Jonathan and I, Jonathan Fagan here, who convened and founded the Jazz Fest, yeah, absolutely. We got together, it's going on six years ago, we decided that we wanted to do something project-wise, him as a musician, me as a poet, that would bring those two worlds together under the banner of jazz, because he's a splendid jazz composer, arranger, and poetry, and I'm turning into more of a lyricist as time goes by. I just started out as a garden variety poet, but now I can add lyricist and poet laureate to my name. Okay, so we're gonna start off with where we think, as a community, we start off. So we're gonna do a tune called Hired by the Mystic, okay? All right, now, everything that we do is this intersection of jazz and social justice, okay? Some of it might not fit your ears real easily, but I ask you to open your hearts because I speak the truth in love. Is that cool? All right, all right, very good. All right, let's do this. They gave my people the lowlands, and not much of it. Just a few streets high by the river. Banks turned to fly and die behind the red lines, and it wasn't about the money. Class was an irresistible force. Race was an immovable object. Perhaps it wasn't the written rule, but white folks knew the legal tool to keep us in our place in this mystic valley space, where slaves and rum and chips had built some mansions, made some millionaires, and hid some old money. So it was hard by the mystic we went, muddy and a bit turned down, the only place where one could be brown in this ancient Middlesex County town. But we named it and claimed it and made it our own. Even in the heat of summer, when the shores were parched and the soil was rank, with the decay of aquatic alchemy, we were one with the river. We followed its flow to the lakes and the sandy beachfront. Like our own Jordan Shore, we baptized and blessed our brothers and sisters in Christ. We caught the little fishes to and became the TV multitude who our Lord Jesus fed, hired by the mystic. We became community. We commanded unity. We embraced the village and raised up our children in the way they should go. As the river ebbs and flows, the tides would turn and our fortune grows. A few more streets become our home. Houses on Sharon join Kin on Jerome. From Duggar Park to the railroad tracks, the landed folk make more room for blacks. The color line recedes a bit. Church and school and center sit. The ville becomes the heart of it, hired by the mystic shore. Now the worm has surely turned, and folks who left have surely learned things couldn't stay the same. That muddy mystic most days is clean. The banks are freshly cut and green. Faces once distinctly brown are not the only ones in town. These streets that once were our confines must now embrace what gentry defines, condominium culture, bedroom convenience, university sprawl, access, egress, excess, and largesse. Now those lowlands have become the highlights of a trending city. And sometimes that success isn't pretty when it's at the expense of your black and brown and tan family. And yet the river still turns and bends. from where it begins to where it ends. The only place where one could be ground in this ancient Middlesex County town where we named it and claimed it and made it our own. All right. All right, okay, now, okay, we're into it now, okay? We're into it. So this is a cool segue because... There were, in that ancient Middlesex County town where we named it and claimed it and made it our own, there were a few institutions, especially for us kids. There was, of course, Duggar Park. There was the Hervey Schoolyard where we grew up and played on that side of town. There was the West Medford Community Center where all of us kids came for Cub Scouts and Girl Scouts. playing pool and bumper pool and ping pong and so on and so forth. And one of the other institutions that was particularly near and dear to our heart was right around the corner, a few streets down on Jerome Street, and it was called The Little Store. It was a tiny red hovel on Upper Jerome. a bit run down and rough around the edges. And Mr. Henry seemed so old to us even then, with a lot of whiskers, impatient, and a little scary. One would suspect that he didn't even like kids, but he really must have loved us. Or else, where did all that penny candy come from? He had all of it, no, seriously. We'd bust in there with a few nickels or a handful of pennies, all loud and unruly. He'd hush us up while he finished with grown folks' business. Then he'd be back, like a black Willy Wonka up in that old shack. He'd peer over those old horn-rimmed glasses and tell us he didn't have all day. Then he'd blow open one of those small brown craft paper bags. and get to stuffin' while we were oohin' and ahin' and huffin' and puffin'. See, Mr. Henry had all the treats, all of our favorites, a hundred great sweets. Root beer barrels and pixie sticks, squirrel nut zippers and banana splits, green mint juleps and button strips, red licorice ropes and bottle nips, He had bazooka Joe bubblegum and a tiny sucker called a dum-dum. Jawbreakers and Tootsie Rolls, sugary love for little kids souls. Candy necklaces to wear and bite, and waxy red lips was such a sight. Fat gum cigars and kid cigarettes, right beside the crunchy six legs. Mary Jane chewies and BB bats, hot fireballs and Mexican hats. Just the genuine Hershey's Kisses, all of the hits and none of the misses. Like kid taffy squares and Necco wafers, liquor made in Boston baked beans. Gold rocks, nuggets of gum in a bag, a kid's idea, sweet tooth swag. Before the days of Laffy Taffys, we would gobble up peppermint patties. Before we knew about gummy bears, Twizzlers always came in pairs. Chewy cow tails with creamy filling, but sugar babies had top filling. Reese's peanut butter cups had us squealing like newborn pups. mica nights and orange slices, salt water taffy and tiny prices. Lifesavers and charms and fruity flavors. We grab those bags like potty favors. Uncles were a favorite choice, and milk duds made us all rejoice. Jolly ranchers and bitter honey, we always got a lot for our money. Talk about kids getting excited. Our greedy fingers could barely wait. You can't imagine the flame he ignited to take that candy like fish take bait. from cold January to chilly December. More kinds of candy than I can remember at the Phil storefront on Upper Jerome. I knew I had to write this poem. See, Mr. Henry had all the treats, all of our favorites, a hundred great sweets. All right. All right, all right. Yeah, yeah. We love it. Okay, so here's the band. Jonathan Fagan on the keys. All right. Greg Toro on the little sexy. This is not the big sexy. The big sexy is the really big bass. This is the little sexy. It's still very sexy, but it's a smaller bass. And my man, Gordon Engelgau on the traps here. Okay, we are the Ally Project. We're going to move this thing along. Boy, where am I? Yeah. OK, here we go. So I'm not going to lie or front as we say in the hood. The neighborhood has changed pretty dramatically, all right? So I'm gonna talk a little bit about how I remember it and what it's become, okay? So this piece is called Corner Lot. All right. standing at the apex of Arlington and Jerome, trying to remember the black and the brown and the tan. Ronnie and Otis used to live in the big house on the corner lot. It's probably changed a half a dozen times since then. Current owner's been there for a minute. He's good with his hands and he knows his way around wood and tools. Place has been gussied up quite a bit. Picket fence is not quite white, but if you know, you know. Asian kid in a Tufts hoodie just whipped by in a helmet and roller blades. Didn't see much of that back in the day. The university sort of hit on the hell side, trying its best to be a baby Ivy. But the co-eds come here all the time now. Basketball, tennis rackets, pickleball paddles in tow, on bikes, in Benzos and roller blades. We used to bust ourselves up pretty good on those rickety metal skates with clunky keys and leather straps. Nothing a little Vaseline and Mercurochrome couldn't handle. How did Henley put it in Invictus? Oh yeah, bloody but unbowed. Not too many white and off-white kids hanging out here back there then. It was as if the invisible lines once drawn to keep us in sometimes kept other folks out too. Now they've pretty much taken over. Dug a park, the Rhone tennis courts, the Hervey schoolyard, and a hundred addresses on Arlington, Lincoln, and Jerome. A host of our remembered places, so few of our original faces. Meanwhile, back in Ronnie and Otis' old place, I'm still standing like that centurion, knowing that Jesus doesn't have to go in to heal his servant. He just has to speak a word. I guess I keep hoping that he'll speak a word to the corner lot, too, and bring back the black and the brown and the tan. Across the river, it's low tide. The smell is gone and the grass is greener than I recall. That was our little park, away from dugger and a lot less hectic. We had makeshift bases or discarded cones for football and softball. We lost a few in the river, but nobody was going in that muck to retrieve anything. We'd probably wait in that water today. They planted some trees there many years ago. They're all pretty big now. Maple and ash, I think. Nobody plays baseball or football there anymore. But there are lots of dogs frolicking off leash and gaggles of fat Canadian geese daring pitties, pugs, and poodles to chase them all. I can't imagine my childhood without losing a few softballs there. I can't imagine not hearing Mrs. Allen call little James Michael to come and eat, or little Charlie to watch us play from his folding chair, because his spindly legs were too weak to let him run. I can't imagine that I'm still here. But Ronnie and Otis, Darryl King and Frankie French, Aaron McDaniel and Marky Davis are all gone. Mark was as thick as a big tree trunk, so we came up with Oak for him. Aaron was Spud, Frankie was Fruit Man, and I was Top Cat. Too cool, ran to school. Everyone wants the corner lot now. A little more land and perhaps the new perspectives that angles create. I wonder if that meant anything to Ronnie and Otis, or Jed and Miles and Gib, Barry, Coco, Keith Wing, and Kenny Byfield. Certainly meant something to the white folks looking to displace, transplant, and uproot the local color. Black folks built homes here, only place where they were allowed to be, where they could color inside the lines Medford once drew against the perceived discomforts of darker skin. We were here first. First firefighters, police officers, war heroes, shop owners, tradesmen, postal chiefs, teachers, artists, and preachers. We were the human bedrock of the only neighborhood they'd let us build. The old church is gone now. Nelson even changed the street number as if to erase the fact that the original Shiloh Baptist ever existed. But if you know, you know. That corner still has a cornerstone. 1900, and Nelson couldn't do nothing about it without a more draconian demolition. Two more condos in the house of the Lord. Two more houses that us first folk can't afford. Two more dismissals of the blessings of his word. One more holy stone rejected and ignored. Thank you. Thank you. All right, we're going to switch it up a little bit. You're familiar with the jazz canon. You know a couple of the players. You know Duke Ellington and Miles Davis and maybe Herbie Hancock and a few others. And then maybe you know John Coltrane. All right, so Coltrane, some of the best of the jazz standards were his compositions with that beautiful horn of his. And one of them was about one of his loves. Her name was Naima. And so if you know Coltrane and you know jazz a little bit, you probably have heard Naima before. So this is a riff, a take on Naima. It's called Reprise for Naima. He would blow this note in the midnight air, aloft in the ether it floats out there. Staccato cadence sets a mood of bluesy lyrical attitude. Improvisational mystery like Monk's piano epistrophe or Miles' tone poem in a silent way or Flanagan's peace at the end of the day. Syncopated in sharp, bright tone, a countdown to stardust, a twilight zone, like a blue train running against the night, setting the pace, then out of sight. With heartmen crooning or bags-on vibes, trios, duets, quartets, and tribes, the blues, the ballads, the avant-garde, incredibly gorgeous, impossibly hard. Giant steps move us miles ahead. Cooking up bop for Harlem street cred. Melody's hand to the harmony wed. Piano's lullaby fresh in the bed. Rhythm rocks where the drummer led. Rhythm rolls where the bass man sped. Rhythm birthed what the saxophone bred. Rhythm heard what the master said. How could he make the bitter taste sweeter? How could a tortured mind deleter? How could the mellowed scotch be neater? How could the smoke from each cigarette create blue beads that cast a net, create blue beads of cascading sweat, create blue haze that confounds regret, create blue nights that we can't Coltrane's notes are a crystal scale, a velvet scream in the urban travail, the heavenly riff of a love supreme, the pungent riff of a lover's dream. Coltrane's notes are a cozy romance, the breezy bounce of a bop and a dance, the languid lilt of stray's lush life, the cakes cut by the artist's knife. Coltrane's notes are a standard refined, like gold in a pan or gemstones mined, the sparkling glow of a hopeful dream, hot black coffee with a hint of cream. Coltrane's notes are Naima's reprise, like madness that brings a man to his knees, or sadness that comes when lovers part, the gladness removed from the balladeer's heart. A tight arrangement cuts the gloom. The melody says that love's in bloom. The harmony spirit engulfs the room. The bride says yes to her lyrical groom. The groove and the beat then jump the broom. The kip drum resounds with a sonic boom. As genius is birthed in a soul filled room. Musical mythology mocks, a twisted path the hero walks. With shield and sword the hero stalks. The temperance shakes her twisted locks. Medusa's snakes, his vision shocks. Holds up the mirror to stony blocks. The harp and the horn melt icy rocks. Serpents retreat and symphony talks. Coltrane's notes are a roller coaster, a hallelujah and a paternoster, the glorious jolt of the maestro's hand, the saxophone titan is in command. Coltrane's notes are a crazy rhythm, the squawk of chords and playful schism, the frenetic pace of Mr. P.C., the coolest round midnight will ever be. Coltrane's notes are genius refined, like gold in a pan or a gemstone's mine. The sparkling glow of a lover's dream, hot black coffee with a hint of cream. Coltrane's notes are Naima's reprise. Like madness that brings a man to his knees, or sadness that comes when lovers part, then gladness revived in the balladeer's heart. Thank you. Thank you very much. All right, all right. So we're going to stay on the jazz frontier for a minute. Herbie Hancock, and later Quincy Jones, they did a tune, Quincy covered it, Herbie Hancock did it for us, and it's called Tell Me a Bedtime Story. So we do a little riff on Tell Me a Bedtime Story, it's called Tell Me Another Bedtime Story, all right? It's just a sweet little jazz ditty, okay? Cool. Is this where the sandman picks up each grain, restoring the beauty and reducing the pain? Is this where we fly to never never land, like the troop of lost boys with Peter Pan? All of the mystery of hidden dreams. Nothing now is as it seems. Tell a sweet tale that sugars and creams with flashes of sardines and shining moonbeams. As I lay down to my slumber, paint a landscape of ochre and umber. Let there be a hint of romance. Turn up the quiet. Love wants to dance. Tell me a bedtime story, please, of secret gardens and pecan trees, of babbling brooks and waterfalls, of gentle breezes that summer calls, of hidden havens and wondrous spaces, of astral planes and mystical places. Let it be a melody that sings in four-part harmony. Let it resound in symphony that folds into dreamland's reverie. Tell me a fable of Arabian nights spread on a table of earthly delights, free from the label of anger and fights, willing and able to scale higher heights. Tell me a bedtime story now, as the baby rocks in the maple bough, as the blue ox puts his nose to the plow, and the sweaty farmer wipes his brow, as each green seedling happily vows to yield each fruit the ground allows, and seven dwarfs whistle a happy tune, and sleeping beauty awakens soon. Let there be a melody that sings in four-part harmony. Let it resound in symphony, then fold into dreamland's reverie. This is the time when the sandman whispers and seven grooms meet seven sisters. And the prairie sings an ode to love as the angels release the turtle dove. For now, I lay me down to sleep and pray to God, my soul to keep. All right. Jonathan Fagan on the keys. Greg Toro on the bass. Did you hear that? You heard that, right? All right, that's Gordon Yango, guy on the drums. All right. All right, so listen, we're going to the intersection of jazz and social justice, all right? All right, and when I say we ain't playing, we ain't playing, but we're playing. Is that okay? All right, all right. So we ain't playing, but we're playing. Okay, this is called alienation. Good? Okay. All right. Here is a fence without a gate. You can't get in, you have to wait. You can't be foreign or somehow strange. This isn't your home, home on the range. You can't arrive in a rickety boat. Our castle has a treacherous moat. We won't host refugees at our door. You're not the sort we're looking for. Take good note, we stay on guard. We don't want you in our backyard. Despite the danger you seek to avoid, our best deterrents have been deployed. You say our country's full of peril. But like stray cats, we think you're feral. We think you're prone to filth and crime. We don't want either at this time. We don't care what the nations say. They won't do more than hope and pray. Our stance is clear on human rights. Lock the door. Turn off the lights. You saw that statue in the bay. It stood for liberty until today. It welcomed tired and huddled masses, not criminals from your underclasses. We've got militias on the border. They own big guns to keep the order. Law enforcement lets them stay to help them keep your kind at bay. Why do we feel that this is good? Why can't we share the neighborhood? Is it because you're black and brown? No, we just choose to stand our ground. Stay in your place. Deal with your issues. We'll send lots of coal and tissues. Don't form caravans and run. You'll find yourselves in the sight of a gun. There are no streets here lined with gold. Our eyes are closed, our hearts are cold. There is no flowing milk and honey. American skies are not that sunny. The fences we build keep aliens out. They serve to keep our faith devout. This land we scheme to make our own is ours, you see, and ours alone. As long as you stay on the other side, we can maintain our national pride. Please don't show us your anguished faces. We're cutting back on other races. We've had enough of global inclusion. We're ridding this country of race confusion. We know how to win these fights and limit all these civil rights. safety nets and the welfare state will have to stop for the lost and late a rising tide that favors the rich that's our famous favorite campaign pitch me too movements and black lives matter in all due time your ranks will scatter you think that you shall overcome just cross this line we'll give you some We'll give you a taste of burning churches and black boys hung from oaks and birches. We'll give you a taste of incarceration in prisons.com, the corporate plantation. We're taking this country back to the time when a brown life wasn't worth a dime, except for the way it worked in the field, except for a bushel of crops to yield. We're taking this country back to the day when white meant right in every way, when men of privilege could rape and beat and kill for spite, then lie and cheat. We're taking this homeland back to the season when hooded marauders needed no reason to hunt folks down with rifles and dogs through the lonely woods, the swamps, and bogs. When confederate flags were boldly raised, and crosses in the darkness blazed, and the land was full of racial hate, served with grits on a breakfast plate. You thought this worm had surely turned, and young black bodies no longer burned. Yet here you are again today, with the specter of prejudice winning the day. The MAGA caps you wear with pride, they let us know who's on your side. The pointed hood and long white robe, fine clothes for the xenophobe. Perhaps this place that immigrants covet can somehow heal and rise above it. Until that day, our best advice to call this home, you'll pay a price. You'll pay a price as many misguided embrace the hate their voice provided. His Twitter rants and sound bites full of ethnocentric cock and bull. You'll pay a price as higher walls lead great climbers to greater falls, where fences are the new condition announcing the refugees' abolition. This isn't our nation's greatest hour, this flexing of white supremacist power. And yet the season is fully revealing the stain of hatred we've been concealing. So take good note and be on guard of deadly traps around the yard. Our agents are on high alert to keep you foreigners off this dirt. Tolerance is in short supply. We won't let your kind occupy this sacred land our forebears built. We don't subscribe to Anglo guilt. This fence was built without a gate to keep out all who come here late. To all you aliens, we don't like strange. No room at the inn in our home on the range. All right. Hard troops, admittedly, but troops nonetheless. All right, so we're gonna stay there for a minute, and then we'll try and ease up off of your feelings. This piece is called The Ally, and it's actually kind of the eponym for our project. So we're gonna do Ally for you. Friends become distant and strange as if you have some creeping mange. Family wonders why and rings their hands. How could you choose them over us? We're your blood, bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh. They're not like us. They're so different, less than, not equal to, beneath. Declarations have been made. Arrangements are in place. These are matters of our kin. Signs have been painted. You're going to be cast out. You're going to be shunned. You need to stick with your own kind. An ally? Is that what they're calling you? Well, it's a hard road to hoe. You're making strange bedfellows. You're casting your white pearls before swine. You weren't raised to behave like this. Our family is a proud and honored clan. We'll never be lower than any black man. There's no room for them at this table. There's always been two sides of the track, a right and wrong side of town, our kind and their kind, your people and those folks. It's going to kill your mother and your daddy's turning over in his grave. You want to shout out, Black Lives Matter. But the master plan is to make them scatter, to serve them pain on a silver platter. Our people own them. They worked this land for 200 years. They were our property, our Negroes. Hell, our Negroes to make it plain. You can't be out there with them. You can't be shoulder to shoulder with the ones we need to dominate, relegate, subjugate, eliminate. They want reparations. Well, we're making preparations to give them 40 acres of hell and a mule kit to the gut. You don't seem to get it, son. This is the way the races run. There's not enough room for everyone. The time for black and brown is done. Show your pride and pick up your gun. Pick the side that has always won. You can't be out there with them. You can't be shoulder to shoulder with the ones we need to dominate, relegate, subjugate, eliminate. All right. All right, all right. Yeah, yeah. All right, all right. Once again, the Allied Project. Jonathan Fagan, Greg Toro, Gordon Angle Guywin, I'm Terry Carter. Too cool, these bros got me sweating out here. Got me sweating. All right, okay, so we're at a couple of different spots and then we're gonna finish up. But let's do something nice and mellow. This is called Legacy, okay? Everybody enjoying themselves? All right. I know it's warm out there. I know. But you're braving the elements and enjoying the day, hopefully. Very, very good. It's not for you to tell your own story. That is the burden of your children. They must shoulder this yoke with love and loyalty. And yet, you have not gathered them up and bid them sit before the campfires of their elders. You have not seasoned their meals with the spice of their identity and the savor of their names. How will they learn to walk the walk and talk the talk? How will they learn to tell your stories even as they live out their own? Sons and daughters and heirs, if you didn't smell the burning ash or feel the warmth of the flame on your neck, you don't know. If you didn't revel in the growl of the griot's earthy reply or the trill of the mockingbird's cry, you don't know. If mama was too tired and daddy too long gone to carry the wood, light the spark and stoke the flames, you don't know. And until the lion cub knows how to tell the pride stories, the hunters will always tell them first. The good book says train up the child in the way they should go. Will we let them depart from the community of faith and the city on the hill without the master's touch, without the oil of his anointing and his full measure of grace? Will we not show them Anansi's clever ways, Popo and Fafina's journey, Mufaro's beautiful daughters, the people who could fly the wonders of Wakanda, and Songololo's new tacky. The prophet says he will encourage fathers and their children to return. But how will they know the way home if no map charts the seas, measures the roads, cites the peaks and valleys, and names each forest despite the thickening trees? Will the burden of the elder stories be too heavy for the children? Will they care to carry? Will they dare to tarry? Will they linger at the foot of the griot? Will they hunger for the wisdom of the sage? We must put them on this page, where hard work earns a man his wage, where power is measured by God's own gauge, where miracles scarf at the wand of a maid. We must share with them the truth that is loyal and fierce like Naomi and Ruth, that doesn't wait for the confessional booth, that has the bite of the panther's tooth. This is the gift of legacy, where a glorious past sets the captives free, and a candle's light beckons liberty. Sons and daughters and heirs, I bid you sit before the campfires of your elders, hear their stories, gather up their stones, and build up your strength. They will show you Anansi's clever ways, Popo and Fafina's journey, Mufaro's beautiful daughters, the people who could fly the wonders of Wakanda, and Sanga Lolo's new tackies. Soon you will be the herald. Write these things down on the tablets of your spirit. Let them put a running in your feet. With each quickening step, you repel the arrows of the hunter. With the shield of abiding faith, you capture the flags of your enemies and gather up their spoils. You remain the lions of the pride and your tails will always be your children's bread. You will never abandon the community of faith. Though you build a thousand cities on a hill, drawing wondrous strength from the master's touch as the oil of his anointing fills your clay jars with his grace. Thank you. All right. Quite a while ago, it was either my first or my second book. Speaking of first and second books, I've got books up there. There's actually a Ally Project CD, for those of you who still have a CD player. And it's got a lot of our music on it. So if you're interested, it's up there. We also have a book. Jazz Festival t-shirts, which are lovely, and our food venue, the Danish Pastry House, will still be here after we leave. So if you didn't get a snack and you wanna get one, come back and sit out under the tent and talk, or however the move hits you, it's all there, still there for you. All right, okay, so I think we're gonna do two more, and then we're gonna be done. All right, so. I love that, I love that, I love that, I love that. If it's not fake, if you're faking it, don't do it. But if it's, oh, okay, I love it, okay. What are we doing? Oh, we're doing Bobby, okay. All right, so a while back, on one of my early books, I think it was the second one, I have a painting in my house. It's called, what's it called, T? Oh, it's called Bobby Doesn't Live Here. And basically what it is is my attempt, my humble painting attempt, to kind of depict black women in all shapes and sizes, because they come in all shapes and sizes. And there may be one or two of them who are very, very narrow and somewhat Barbie-like, somewhat Angel Reese-like. But for the most part, it runs the gamut. So I wrote this poem called Barbie Doesn't Live Here to go with that. piece of artwork. And every once in a while, you revisit a piece of poetry and you say, well, what could I have done differently? Or what could I have said differently? So I had this notion, and it came out like this. And it's called, If Barbie Had a Choice.
[Unidentified]: Хаха
[Terry Carter]: Если бы у Барби был выбор, я думаю, она бы с первого дня сделала его черным. Я сделаю кожу кремовой и выберу легкий аромат. В манере истинной королевы Гестерили она говорила на диалекте игбо: «Идите к черту с колонистами!» Поместите меня в розовую коробку с белыми буквами и фоном из пальм и большого количества песка на пляже. Я так не думаю. Большую грудь невозможно вместить в светло-розовое мини-платье. Мне нужно что-то более важное. Мне нужна большая армия хлопка и страны Батик Батик имеет все цвета моей родины. Мне нужна новая девушка, она готова показать миру, что я сделал. Мне нужен продукт, произведенный Дагомеей, а не продукт Mattel и Disney. Серьезно, если бы у Бобби был выбор, Кен выглядел бы как Али, Дензел или британская красотка из темного шоколада Идрис Эльба. Это будет не только сплошная, но и не более 150 штук рождественской папиросной бумаги. Будет ли он таким же сильным, как Т'Чартель Т'Чалы, таким же продвинутым, как Тупак, и будет ли работать, как братья Малкольм? Позвольте мне поцеловать мужчину с черными губами, девушку, у которой нет сыпи, как у дикой. Он проглотил бы своего мужчину во все черные дрожащие бедра поэта. Если не знаете, посмотрите на YouTube. Вам не нужна бразильская операция на ягодицах, безопасный клубень или занятия по Adobe Photoshop. Обо всем ли позаботилась Африка и ее богатые гены, вы понимаете, о чем я?
[SPEAKER_07]: Если бы у Барби был выбор, вы бы не смогли купить ее в R Toys USA.
[Terry Carter]: Шварц или Мэри Ренольд. Она не будет фальшивой девушкой, второстепенным персонажем или Бонни Клайд. Это не плохая американка-натурал или танцующая мама Мэдди. Она не будет Марго Робби, Черри Черри или Дидди Харви. Я закончу этот процесс с помощью большего количества RIM, и будет достаточно всего нескольких металлических стержней. Новички вроде Бобо не приемлют ерунды. Преследование наших братьев больше не может быть решено. Ее чудо будет огромным. Игрокам игра покажется слишком напряженной, и у них никогда не будет реального шанса выиграть любовный приз. Хотя он мог бы добраться до Бентли или Роллс-Ройса, на настоящей заправке в Кайнсе он бы с треском провалился. К новой Барби Nubian следует относиться с величайшим уважением. Он не чувствует себя подавленным или игнорируемым. Он будет бороться за это, как элита Гуджи. Он не будет мягким, неряшливым или маленьким. Это будет иметь значение. Могу поспорить. Сутенер или мужчина не представляют угрозы. Как и красивые слова о национальном долге, их красота и мудрость не заставят вас попотеть. У этой белой Барби может быть игрушечный самолет, но она еще не приземлила самолет души. Моя африканская королева забыла о настоящей проблеме, хотя, возможно, ей хотелось бы оставить себе тот розовый Корвет. Возможно, вы захотите сохранить это. Да, возможно, вы захотите сохранить его. Все хорошо. Да, мы закончим с того, с чего начали, с семьей, потому что все здесь, вы здесь, вы очень благодарны, и мы очень благодарны всем, кто делает их вместе с нами. Итак, давайте посмотрим, есть ли у меня надежда найти его.
[SPEAKER_07]: Хотите писать стихи за кухонным столом? ដែល ការ កាន់ ដែល ការ កាន់ ដែល ការ កាន់ ដែល ការ កាន់
[Terry Carter]: ទាំងអស់គឺល្អ។ ខ្ញុំដឹងថាមានអ្វីជាច្រើនដែលខ្ញុំកំពុងនិយាយនៅថ្ងៃនេះនិងអ្វីដែលយើងកំពុងនិយាយនៅថ្ងៃនេះអ្នកដឹងថានឹងធ្វើឱ្យមានភាពខុសគ្នានិងរំជួលចិត្តខុសគ្នាជាមួយមនុស្ស។ ប៉ុន្តែកំណាព្យពិសេសនេះប្រហែលជាដូចជា "ហាងតូច" នឹងនាំអ្នកត្រឡប់ទៅផ្ទះរបស់អ្នកវិញនៅពេលជាក់លាក់មួយ។ ខ្ញុំស្ទើរតែអាចធានាថាអ្នកមកពីណាដែលអ្នកបានមកពីណាដែលប្រវត្តិរបស់អ្នកគឺជាអ្វីដែលសាវតារបស់អ្នកនៅពេលខ្លះខ្ញុំសង្ឃឹមថាផ្ទះរបស់អ្នកនឹងមើលទៅដូចនេះនៅចំណុចនេះហើយខ្ញុំសង្ឃឹមថាវានឹងធ្វើឱ្យវាកើតឡើង។ កំណាព្យនេះត្រូវបានគេហៅថា "កំណាព្យតុផ្ទះបាយ" ។ គ្មាននរណាម្នាក់ចង់ទៅទេ។ ពួកគេដូចជាស្នាមប្រឡាក់ប៊្លូរីនៅលើអាវរបស់ម៉ាក់: ស្ងប់ស្ងាត់និងមាតិកា។ អាហាររបស់គាត់គឺឆ្ងាញ់ពោតស្រស់និងខាត់ណាចៀនសាច់មាន់ចៀននិងសាឡាត់ដំឡូង។ កណ្តឹងរបស់ពួកគេគឺខ្លាញ់និងពេញ។ នេះគឺជាបន្ទប់នេះ។ អូព្រះរបស់ខ្ញុំក្មេងស្រីតើអ្នកធ្ងន់ធ្ងរទេ? នេះគឺជាការសន្ទនាពិតប្រាកដ។ យើងជាមនុស្សពិត។ គ្រួសារតើអ្នកដឹងថាខ្ញុំកំពុងនិយាយអំពីអ្វីទេ? យើងគឺជាគ្រួសារមួយ។ អ្នកអាចធុំក្លិនស្នេហាបានយូរមុនពេលទ្វារបើក។ អ្នកដឹងថាវានឹងមាននំ pecan ។ តែទឹកកកផ្អែមនឹងត្រូវបានបម្រើ។ ភាគខាងត្បូងនឹងបោះបង់ចោលទម្រង់ខាងជើងការសង្កត់សំឡេងនឹងកើនឡើងហើយភាពងងឹតនៃជនបទនឹងមានអារម្មណ៍កាន់តែជិតទីក្រុង។ ពួកគេស្នាក់នៅលើតុនោះយ៉ាងយូរបន្ទាប់ពីកំទេចបានកើនឡើងចានទាំងអស់ត្រូវបានទឹកនាំទៅហើយអាហារត្រូវបានដាក់ចេញឬដាក់ចូលទៅក្នុងថង់ TupptionWare និងកាបូប ziplay ។ មនុស្សគ្រប់គ្នានឹងមានកាបូបឆ្កែឆ្កួតនិងរឿងមួយដែលត្រូវប្រាប់។ បុរសនឹងមានពេលវេលាដ៏អស្ចារ្យ។ ♪ស្លៀកអ្វីតូចជាងមុន♪♪និយាយមិនសមហេតុសមផល♪♪ស្នាមញញឹមនឹងភ្លឺស្វាងហើយការសើចនឹងត្រូវបណ្តេញក្បាលរបស់ពួកគេហើយដែលមិនមានភាពត្រឹមត្រូវនៅថ្ងៃអាទិត្យ, ក្មេងស្រី, អ្នកដឹងថាខ្ញុំមិនចង់ទៅទេ ពួកគេប្រៀបដូចជាព្រះនាងងងឹតរបស់ព្រះយេស៊ូវនៅក្នុងគំនូរចាស់ដែលពោរពេញដោយក្តីស្រឡាញ់និងការតស៊ូ។ អាហារព្រលឹងរមាស់។ ក្មេងប្រុសបានអធិស្ឋានទៅកាន់ឋានសួគ៌និងទារកបានច្រៀងចម្រៀងរបស់គាត់។ មនុស្សគ្រប់គ្នាសប្បាយរីករាយនិងស្ងប់ស្ងាត់។ នេះគឺជាបន្ទប់នេះ។ ខ្ញុំពិតជានឹកឪពុកខ្ញុំណាស់។ តើមហារីករបស់កូនអ្នកក្នុងការលើកលែងទោសមែនទេ? វិហារនៃសាសនារកឹស្ដ នេះគឺជាការសន្ទនាពិតប្រាកដ។ យើងជាមនុស្សពិត។ រកយសារ តើអ្នកដឹងថាខ្ញុំកំពុងនិយាយអំពីអ្វីទេ? យើងគឺជាគ្រួសារមួយ។ អស់លោកលោកស្រី Girlemen សម្ព័ន្ធមិត្តគម្រោង។ Jonathan Fagan លេងកូនសោ។ Greg Toro បម្រើការជាអ្នកលេងភ្លេង។ គាត់កំពុងរត់បុរស។ តាមពិតគាត់នឹងរៀបការឆាប់ៗនេះ។ នេះគឺជាបុរសរបស់ខ្ញុំ។ ទាំងអស់គឺល្អ។ មើល។ គាត់គឺជាអ្នកប្រយុទ្ធឧទ្ទាមម្នាក់។ គាត់មានគម្រោងរើសយករំពាត់ហើយសំដែងនៅឯពិធីមង្គលការមួយនៅក្នុង Connecticut ។ ទាំងអស់គឺល្អ។ បន្ទាប់មកមានបុរសរបស់ខ្ញុំ។ ហ្គរដុនអង់គ្លេសគឺជាអ្នកវាយស្គរតែមួយគត់។ ទាំងអស់គឺល្អ។ យើងគឺជាគំរោងនៃសេចក្ដីសញ្ញា។ ថ្ងៃស្អែកយើងត្រលប់ទៅពិធីបុណ្យ jazz របស់ Medford ដែលមានកម្មវិធីពីរទៀត។ យើងនឹងមាននិស្សិតអនុបណ្ឌិតមកពីប្រទេសទាំងនេះ វិទ្យាស្ថានចាហ្សាយឡេសរបស់លោក Berklee ដែលដឹកនាំដោយ Terri-Lynn Carrington របស់ Medford ។ គាត់នឹងមិននៅទីនេះទេប៉ុន្តែសិស្សរបស់គាត់នឹងហើយពួកគេអាចទៅបាន។ សមាជិកម្នាក់ក្នុងចំណោមសមាជិកដែលនឹងដឹកនាំការខិតខំនេះគឺស្ត្រីវ័យក្មេងម្នាក់ឈ្មោះវែឌីណាខាទិចដែលស្រដៀងនឹង Terri-Lynn Carrington នៅម៉ោង 22 ឬ 23 ដូច្នេះអ្នកប្រហែលជាចង់ទៅជួបនាង។ បន្ទាប់មកយើងនឹងឈ្នះ មិនអាចប្រៀបផ្ទឹមបាននិងឥតឈប់ឈរ។ មែនហើយនេះគឺលោកដុនណា Mcelroy នាងជាប្រធាននាយកដ្ឋានសំលេងនៅ Berkeley ហើយបន្ទាប់មកជាប្រធានផ្នែកសុខាភិបាលរបស់នាយករបស់នាងគឺ George Russell, Jr. Jr. ធ្ងន់ធ្ងរណាស់បើអាចធ្វើបានអ្នកអាចពិចារណាបានមកវិញប្រសិនបើថ្ងៃអាទិត្យរបស់អ្នកអនុញ្ញាតពីព្រោះនោះនឹង រកវិល ជាការប្រសើរណាស់យើងសូមអរគុណអ្នកដែលបានស្នាក់នៅជាមួយយើងនិងធ្វើឱ្យក្រុមហ៊ុនអាមេរិកជួយយើងពេញមួយថ្ងៃ។ ខ្ញុំសង្ឃឹមថាអ្នកមានជាតិទឹកបានល្អ។ បើមិនដូច្នោះទេចូលទៅខាងក្នុងហើយមានតែទឹកនិងតែទឹកកកមួយចំនួន។ ប្រសិនបើអ្នកឃ្លានបន្តិចបន្តួចចូរទៅទទួលយកអ្វីបរិភោគ។ ពួកគេតែងតែមាននំនំសាំងវិចឆ្ងាញ់ ៗ ដែលមានរសជាតិឈ្ងុយឆ្ងាញ់ភីហ្សានិងរបស់ផ្សេងទៀតដែលពួកគេធ្វើ។ យើងស្រឡាញ់ពួកគេ។ នេះគឺជាស្ករគ្រាប់ដាណឺម៉ាក។ ពួកគេមានទីតាំងនៅលើផ្លូវបូស្តុននៅកាច់ជ្រុងនៅលើផ្លូវបូស្តុននិងផ្លូវវីនធ័រ។