Rewriting Stella

by Tuttle, Dan;

  I’ll take you to a parking lot, preside

  Miyagi-like to your Karate Kid.”

  “I haven’t seen the film.” “That’s fine, I’ll be

  your Chiun in Remo Williams.” “Nope.” “The Brain

  that teaches Pinky?” “Just give up.” “While we

  are biking, we’ll discuss.” “Spare me the pain.

  But cool, I’ll go. Remind me why again?”

  “Because you’ve gotta fall in love with bikes

  so you can pitch to city councilmen

  and generate ten, twenty thousand likes

  so that they pay attention.” “Got it.” Now

  they saw worth of Stel’s sharpened sonnet plow.

  313.

  What’s missing from the conversation was

  fixation on the Boy’s agenda for

  the motivating zeal, the beehive’s buzz.

  They’d loosed their mental yoke from one deplored

  and tethered it more locally. What once

  were clear, binary judgments rendered at

  the actions of a playground-burning dunce

  took textures, grays when, rather, center sat

  on their front stoop. The issues locally

  were tougher virtue study cases to

  agree on a solution. Vocally,

  they whipsawed near as much, embraced a few

  ideas that, with all compared, contrast

  quite starkly with their spectrum of the past.

  314.

  The last event worth mentioning came when

  a person in the crowd squealed, dropped his tea,

  sent boba bouncing on the street. “Jen—Jen!”

  he tugged at his companion’s arm, and she

  turned, saw, and chirped delightedly. They walked

  away from splat, approaching Stella, and

  asked if she wouldn’t mind a selfie, cocked

  the camera up, then snapped it. “We’ve been fans

  since you dissected echo chambers of

  the left, no high ground there.” “No,” Jen said, “since

  adventure time with BLING. That part I love.”

  “We’re on Vol Two. Does Ab become a prince?”

  “You know,” Stel said, “I think he does, but not

  in quite the way you readers might have thought.”

  315.

  “What do you mean?” “You’re smart. You’ll figure out.

  And if you don’t, then make it up.” “Okay…”

  they said, star-struck, confused but still devout,

  “Your pivot toward the autobio plays

  well with the masses,” Cade said. “Pasts unlocked

  attract strange trust. Embellishments were planned,”

  said Stel. “For sharing so I bet you’re stalked

  by fans now? You’ve built quite the streetwise brand.”

  What Stella didn’t say was ‘No, no way.’

  What Stella didn’t say was ‘No such thing.’

  What Stella didn’t say was ‘Fluke today.’

  What Stella didn’t say was everything.

  What Stella wrote and curated spoke more,

  and let her – like those strangers – her adore.

  316.

  With no hint of defensiveness she said,

  “Just here to keep it real, now that Tee’s shied

  away from us, found bank in Joe instead.”

  Some others thought that, rather, regicide

  had long been plotted, as in Lion King’s veldt.

  They liked their new queen’s style. Tee had coerced.

  Stel left them space to air the things they felt,

  which she’d pre-seeded with subversive verse.

  From Jackie R. to Rosie Riveter,

  with “R.A.P.” and Cade’s crusading choir,

  she’d spun her stories so to pivot her

  spectators’ views that power’s exclusive fief

  was money. Overriding it? Belief.

  EPILOGUE

  Two sets of footsteps down the stairs next morn

  betrayed the fact First Friday brought a fuck.

  Still given to lightfootedness of dorm,

  they’d been discreet about their bedroom luck.

  Stel felt much more delight than real surprise,

  from having witnessed careful flirt and dote.

  Appropriate, like Disney would devise,

  magnetic opposite attractions wrote.

  To bedroom where Stel hibernated, hush

  attempted whispers trickled up the stair.

  She heard their evensong as Hardy’s thrush,

  its joy illimited to what was there.

  She slipped on slippers, robe, then did descend

  so to congratulate two happy friends.

  She made three coffee cups in kitchen, brews

  espresso strength from Aeropress, caffeine

  enough to cut through multiple-hit snooze

  and likely short-cut night of libertines.

  Stel didn’t know how long she’d need to chill

  before the morning welcome for her friends,

  so brought plush company with her, a twill

  stuffed bat-eared fox, plus laptop. She could spend

  half-day like this and barely feel she’d blinked,

  as time is wont to dilate in the mind

  when pasts imagined draw on, interlink

  with presents of the zeitgeist of mankind.

  Like flood, drunk stimulant washed clear her veins,

  left fertile loam to feed inventive brain.

  Before she made it into flow, they came,

  two lovebirds hand-in-hand down staircase steps.

  “Aww, thanks Stel,” they said, not a hint of shame

  in walk, and showing offbeat morning pep.

  They sat. Cade asked, “How’s newfound leadership,

  dominion over where the Oppo goes?”

  “Not bad,” Stel said, “when pen’s at speedy clip.

  If late, then readers end up predisposed

  to alternate perspectives.” “Bother you?”

  “Not really, things considered,” Stel replied,

  “I see my role as just to jog a few

  new introspections loosing old bromides.

  I hope they reexamine what they’re taught

  but can’t expect to shepherd every thought.”

  “And who’s this pal accompanying you?”

  asked Mona, picking up the old stuffed thing.

  “The friend my dreams spent long time clinging to,

  reminder of adventure, my dog BLING,”

  shared Stella. Cade looked proud, “Named after mine,”

  he said, and pulled his chain out. “Stel’s got some

  that’s similar,” he added. “Silver shines

  enough,” said Stel, switched gears, “Your rule of thumb,

  your north star, Lupe’s ‘Hip-Hop Saved My Life’,

  I get it now. I write to make it right

  don’t like where I be, talking ’bout the strife

  around him, near fall back into the plight

  of life on scraps. I’d like to make it like

  the sights on TV, nice and easy. Mic

  takes many forms.” “I’m proud.” “Poems satiate.”

  “Then never stop, write annals they’ll exhume.”

  She smiled and nodded at such duty’s weight,

  felt equally on neck, where most presume

  the medal that she wore plain jewelry.

  From chain hung silver piece with Sichuan moon

  and dragon wrapped she’d won from schoolery,

  engraved with ‘Stella’, classic hero’s boon.

  One’s given every year to the top-creamed

  performer from the village, Stel’s austere

  and desk-bound, no-fun childhood was redeemed.

  She’d always dreamed of being crowned emir.

  No longer had she schooled li
ke prison’s cell.

  She’d friend. And puppy. She’d rewritten Stel.

  THE PLAYLIST

  LISTEN HERE: WWW.BIT.LY/RSTELLA

  Lupe Fiasco / Dots & Lines

  PROFESSOR JAY / Ndio Mzee

  Lei Qiang / Crescent Moon Before Dawn

  Bob Marley & The Wailers / Three Little Birds

  Janis Joplin, Big Brother & The Holding Company / Women is Losers

  Coolio, L.V. / Gangsta’s Paradise

  Kanye West / Jesus Walks

  The Notorious B.I.G., Mase, Diddy / Mo Money Mo Problems

  Homeboy Sandman / The Carpenter

  Jurassic 5 / What’s Golden

  Nas, Ms. Lauryn Hill / If I Ruled the World (Imagine That)

  A Tribe Called Quest / Can I Kick It?

  Madvillain / All Caps

  Brother Ali / Self Taught

  Gucci Mane / Worst Enemy

  Grateful Dead / Friend of the Devil

  Sly & The Family Stone / Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)

  Jefferson Airplane / Embryonic Journey

  Janis Joplin, Big Brother & The Holding Company / Piece of My Heart

  Kanye West, JAY Z, Pusha T, CyHi The Prynce, Swizz Beatz, RZA / So Appalled

  Talib Kweli, Marsha Ambrosius / It Only Gets Better

  Lupe Fiasco, Nikki Jean / Hip-Hop Saved My Life

  Lupe Fiasco / Around My Way (Freedom Ain’t Free)

  The Coup / Wear Clean Draws

  JAY Z, Santigold / Brooklyn Go Hard

  The Notorious B.I.G. / Hypnotize

  Nas / I Want to Talk to You

  The Coup / 5 Million Ways to Kill A CEO

  Bob Marley & The Wailers / Zion Train

  50 Cent, Eminem / Patiently Waiting

  Rage Against the Machine / Know Your Enemy

  Talib Kweli / Get By

  Zion I, Locksmith / Culture Freedom

  Sage Francis / Civil Obedience

  Eminem / The Way I Am

  Blue Scholars / Joe Metro

  Common Market / Every Last One

  Tonedeff / Optimist

  The Prodigy / Mindfields

  Elvis Presley / (You’re The) Devil in Disguise

  Thelonious Monk / ’Round Midnight

  Kendrick Lamar / DNA.

  Justin Timberlake / That Girl

  J. Cole / Fire Squad

  Elvis Presley / Jailhouse Rock

  Eminem, Nate Dogg / ’Till I Collapse

  Macklemore, Skylar Gray / Glorious

  Talib Kweli, Styles P / Poets & Gangstas

  J. Cole / No Role Modelz

  John Legend, The Roots, Common, Melanie Fiona / Wake Up Everybody

  Jean Grae, Natural Resources / Negro Baseball League

  Wu-Tang Clan / Bring Da Ruckus

  Buddy, A$AP Ferg / Black

  Pharoahe Monch, Talib Kweli / D.R.E.A.M.

  People Under The Stairs / Acid Raindrops

  Lupe Fiasco / Gotta Eat

  2Pac, Talent / Changes

  Dr. Dre, Eminem / Forgot About Dre

  Brad Kane / One Jump Ahead

  Johannes Brahms / Hungarian Dance No. 1 in G Minor

  Franz Liszt / Die Forelle, S.564 (after Schubert, D.550)

  Busta Rhymes / Break Ya Neck

  The White Stripes / Seven Nation Army

  Mos Def / Mathematics

  Kendrick Lamar, MC Eiht / m.A.A.d. city

  Wu-Tang Clan / C.R.E.A.M.

  Lupe Fiasco / Kick, Push

  2Pac, Dramacydal / Outlaw

  Killer Mike / R.A.P. Music

  Kanye West, JAY Z, J. Ivy / Never Let Me Down

  Logic / Nikki

  Talib Kweli, 9th Wonder, Rapsody / Every Ghetto

  Sublime / Doin’ Time

  Parliament / P-Funk (Wants to Get Funked Up)

  CeeLo Green / Bright Lights Bigger City

  The Prodigy / Spitfire

  Con Brio / Never Be the Same

  Queen / Don’t Stop Me Now

  Béla Fleck and the Flecktones / New South Africa

  Neto Bernal / ¿Quién Se Cree Tu Recuerdo?

  Ozomatli / Cut Chemist Suite

  Adventure Time, Pendleton Ward / Adventure Time Main Title

  Lupe Fiasco, Nikki Jean / Hip-Hop Saved My Life

  THE AUTHOR

  Dan prizes whimsy, abhors boredom, and has a middling relationship with focus. This combination led to Rewriting Stella. That, and a damn long drive to the Serengeti.

  His sonnet obsession began as a gift-giving exercise. After a rather pleasant dinner one night he decided to write up the occasion in oddly formal poetry, offer shout-outs to each participant, and email it to them. None replied. Thrilled by market demand, he then made a habit of memorializing occasions in iambic pentameter. The power of the stories we tell ourselves and all that. Eventually Stella matured and those stories began to make sense.

  At one point Dan could speak Spanish, Swahili, Chinese, Melanesian Pijin, and conversational English. At one point he could also do calculus. But what is life but a departure from points once thought important? If you ask Dan, he’ll gladly tell you about that time helped prevent an outbreak of the bubonic plague in East Africa, how he used to be able to read a Chinese newspaper, and how he’s mildly synesthetic. But only for a story in return.

  THE ILLUSTRATOR

  Paper, pencil and Zac have been inseparable since his youth. Zac grew up in the artists’ community of Woodstock, NY where he began his endeavor of drawing from life. He attended LaGuardia High School of the Arts in NYC and pursued his focus on illustration at Parsons School of Design.

  Says Zac: “On my commutes, I draw people who capture my eye. Polarities exist as an illustrator; the creative cartoonist, and the observational realist. I seek to find a balance between those polarities in my work and to be a creative realist or observational cartoonist. Every day is an opportunity to train my imagination to be a creative vacuum.”

  You can grab more eyefuls of Zac’s work on his website (zactheartist.com) or Insta (@zacthemangaka).