I was not always called Serene

I was not always called Serene, although it is my legal name. For the first five years of my life I was Tami. This is the name I first heard myself called; it is the name I first learned to write.

The TAMI Show Award mock-up

I posted this privately awhile back, before the world became consumed with the intrigue of what had always been the most useless of my obsessions: Russia. The post wasn’t secret, just detached and something I wanted to time right, I suppose. I haven’t even proofed it. Just scanned it. The fact that I didn’t publish…

Finally tackling the damn “DON’T” dance

Not so fucking easy and with the nerve damage there’s a bunch I have to change up; god, I realize now how deceptively easy it looks, but it is not. So, yeah, I need some kind of challenge to make me work. And Beyoncé isn’t doing it anymore and isn’t practical.     (follow up quickie non-dancer aside)

Ninety Years Ago Today My Father Was Born

Then turned on one toe, hopped off the huge wooden table and started off, head high, when I heard him slap the table hard with his big hand – the way everyone who knew him remembers he did in his constant, big-ness that encompassed all sight, movement, and certainly sound – and laughed his ass off.

How Serene Gets Distracted (it’s for the best in this case)

Went from James Brown to of course, the rip-off evolutions – Michael Jackson/Elvis Presley down through what is still the now only intimidating dance in my existence, Ed Sheeran’s official “Don’t” video and somehow still end up at a video with no dancing in it at all. Yet I think it’s worth it. (I still have to…