Bani Amor is a queer travel from Brooklyn by way of Ecuador who explores diasporic identities, the decolonization of travel culture, and the intersections of race, place and power in their work. They've been published in Teen Vogue, Bitch Magazine, and Paste Magazine, among other outlets, and is a three-time VONA/Voices Fellow. Bani also has an essay in Brooklyn Boihood's anthology Outside the XY: Queer Black and Brown Masculinity, which was shortlisted for a Lambda Literary Prize. Follow them on Twitter @bani_amor.
I haven’t slept at night for over a week. Films, fancy cocktail parties, gay men everywhere and house music, dancing. A beautiful candlelit house sits at the top of a hill a professor with two dogs and a big kitchen inside. Candles because of Venezuela’s rolling power outages. This happened the other day when I was riding the elevator in Ninoska’s building; there was nothing to do but sit inside the pitch black box alone and wait. We’ve been hanging out with Miss Universe 2009 a few days now, we see her at everything. Music falling from the sky.
-Some old crap I dug up. I go on and on about how drunk I got, it’s stupid, so I’ll spare you. Did anyone else see On The Road? How much worse could it have been? I finished my book and will actually publish that zine I mentioned that one time especially since I’m moving away from my stoner household and in with my family on the coast because it’s free and I’ve convinced myself it will magically disable this procrastination mode I’m in.
Actually, I’ve never written so much in my life, but I convince myself I’m lame if I don’t put in ten hours a day, seven days a week #glamorouslifeofthetriverwriter #myopia
i’m very busy and bad at juggling several projects at once, so that’s why things have been silent around here. been discussing boston bombing conspiracies with backpackers in assorted hotels and hostels, changing rooms every two days or so. i’m ghostwriting a book on the slowest virus-infected laptop on earth, in a place where WIFI is indeed a four letter word. but i’m just whining. to make up for the lack of things to say, i’ve stolen some things junot diaz has said, which are 1,000,000 x better than anything i could write right now.
“In a ‘post-race’ country like America where nothing and no one is racist, where people are more likely to believe in UFO’s than in institutional bias, which does back flips to obfuscate the operations of white hegemonic power and therefore ensure its continuance, anyone seeking to expose white supremacy or battle it is in for some serious uphill. You will be attacked. You will be censured, usually by your own community. People will say that you are obsessed with race and that even mentioning white people in the context of white supremacy is itself racist. These days the average person doesn’t even have to be taught not to bring up white supremacy. Here in our country, as in Mordor, everybody knows not to say the dark lord’s name.”
“If you’re not lost, you’re at a place that somebody has already found. If you’re comfortable or familiar, you’re in mapped territory. If you feel like you know where you’re at, somebody’s already done it. So if you want to create something new, you need to get completely lost.”
“A writer is a writer not because she writes well and easily, because she has amazing talent, because everything she does is golden. In my view, a writer is a writer because even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway.”
I’m so busy with stuff that I haven’t been able to post, but the lovely Jen Carpenter over at Our Wild Hearts always has something awesome and interesting to steal, so here’s a reblog of an interview she did with James Wood. See ya soon!
Went on a ‘work vacation’ to the cloud forest to clear my head and get a ton of writing done. Instead, the village was flooded by perpetual storms with almost 100 people evacuated and rolling power outages. Also, I left my bank card back home and had to have cash wired to me. When it finally was, I got word that my cat was sick and had to rush back to the city and deal. Anyway, I got stoned and wrote the following, ’cause there wasn’t much else to do. Happy full moon!
The way the rain falls straight down: like bullets, like millions of beads rolling toward an indeterminate horizon; brushing the cloud forest canopy – windless – a vertical current. You could smell the wet.
I love looking out of my hotel room doors and writing, with blonde strands of light shooting through the stained glass at dusk.
WordPress blogger Brixpoul was nice enough to nominate me for this here award. It involves answering these questions and nominating other blogs and asking them questions. I at least have time to answer the question portion, so here they is.
What is your favorite film?
Hedwig and the Angry Inch
If you needed to emigrate, which country would you choose?
What is your favorite airline?
What is your favorite tip for city breaks?
Don’t live in one
What makes you smile?
Driver or passenger?
How many countries have you visited at least one night?
Hiked the Quilotoa Loop on my birthday, a dormant volcano filled with a jade lake fabled to be bottomless. But it’s not really bottomless, and it wasn’t really my birthday; February 29th won’t come until 2016, but it was close enough, and I needed an excuse to disappear into a crazy volcano somewhere, so.