fiction and musings from a gay black dude with delusions above his station
Minstrels of various stripes have graced college campuses for decades. At 1980s UCLA, all we got were preachers. Some were local, some visited from afar. But they all had the same message: you are evil and are going to hell. One of my favorites was Brother Jed. He came with an entourage that included his…
Spring 1985. UCLA. We named our protest encampment Mandela City. I was lying on a sleeping bag in a tent on a grassy field in front of Schoenberg Hall, a sitar that I borrowed from the Music Department on one side, my shortwave radio on the other. I took the shortwave and extended the telescopic…
