🕳👨🏿🦯👨🏾🦽👨🏿🦯🚶♂️
Apple found her Muse desaparaceda y potentiate, her wallflower status, no shrinking violet, due to some modifications in its fertilizer, seems firing six of one, half dozen of the other cylinders, and running the land like ramblin' roses (but really, which introverted wallflower do you know who unselfconsciously invigorates live performance like a Holy Roller handles vipers}?
interviews like Jack Kerouac, Mike Tyson, Capote, Dylan, but gets into the weeds which she loves to find her way out of again,
activize what moves her extra momentum: Police Brutality and the senseless killing of an unarmed innocent man, which spurred on Black Lives Matter to their most vigorous presence, made and held her own sign in her own neighborhood, with her own neighbors, and gave them hell, and took no prisoners, and didn't make a fuss over doing it, inspiring activists everywhere, and from a guarded, but I am convinced personal running of at least some of her social media accounts (maybe Tumblr, and for sure Instagram -- in at least some anonymous posting which no amanuenses of this planet could channel, and which I have personally had the 'like,' a private and cherished deathbed expression, her fandom ... well, it's 'Criminal'!
see anyone hanging on to every wacky, serious, funny thing that comes forth from her frothy brain?
even inspiring, we should not be surprised one of the most varied, intellectually puisant stables of ex-husbands and lovers, to whose type one would do well to invest in a large amount of AI Machine Learning and Algorithmic Dataset hardware to try to put them in a 6-degrees-from-Kevin the Space Alien, as her overriding type of guy / gal.
Secret husbands, strange bedfellows you can count (did she date Paul Reuben? I will have to ask that woman some questions, if so), all emanating from that gorgeous, sexy syllabication of Broadbagnagam linguistic proportion, Cuisanarts from journals and scraps of paper which miraculously are kept together, into the enunciate bombastic curlicues and pedantic, academae of a tenyeared tweedy prof who should have been written by Phillip Roth and whose extracurricular activitities include smoking good Humboldt weed and going Rocambouche over drinks to her male TA's, pulling wholecloth verses, stanzas, cradenzas, from her brain as lyrics like a Morgellon's sufferer pulls multi-colored threads from under her fingernails, which can neither be burned nor seen by most of us -- and in Joni Mitchell's case, like they are definitely pregnant at the ripe age of Joni Mitchell).
She's excitably giddy and painfully senstitve to all her favorite things, but mainly her dog - along with music, and her man, she sings in 'Shameika'! And speaking of potential, and did she have it, and did Shameika hit that one bang on the head, this also makes her, like Shameika, not only full of potential, but full of the gift which is named after those to whom their gift is to spot the potential in others, recognize it, point it out to the person, coddle it, then toss it out and let it go, until sometimes, when the potential is realized, or so they may possibly think, they put out a call to action, or go on a journey of discovery for that clairvoyant self-actualizer recognizer, and they find her; and sometimes, that potentiator, has turned what she saw in others into that which she found in herself, and potentially made that move from, Dali Lama to Reincarnate Spotter, and when that happens, and the two find each other, it can only be a good place, and there can only be one word for what Shameika was and is which saw in Fiona Maggart, oppressed, misunderstood, profoundly talented, and taking in what the bullies thought they were giving her as a lashing.
But what they didn't know about little Miss Maggart and Shameika, her then spotter, was that, when that Devil's Tongue cuts that back with its leather snap and it makes those marks whose healing may never go away, it leaves something in those whose backs are being whipped, tied to a pole or a tree.
It leaves something which few of us can hardly imagine happening: If you love the whip, what exactly are they doing to you? ' This Summer, Apple not only found her lost Muse Desaparaceda y potentiate, but pulled the trigger on what, from what you may have read, seems rather overt and possibly intrusive from someone whose reputation proceeds her as a wallflower, but no shrinking violet, this wallflower is (but really, which introverted wallflower do you know who senselessly unselfconscious invigorate live performance like a Holy Roller handles vipers and ululates tongues to only their God who understands, interviews like Jack Kerouac, Mike Tyson, Capote, Dylan, but gets into the weeds which she loves to find her way out of again, self-activizes over what moves her inspiring extra momentum this summer over Police Brutality and the senseless killing of an unarmed innocent man, which spurred on Black Lives Matter to their most vigorous presence, including something which most artists can't say, she made and held her own sign in her own neighborhood, with her own neighbors, and gave them hell, and took no prisoners, and didn't make a fuss over doing it, inspiring activists everywhere, and from a guarded, but I am convinced personal running of at least some of her social media accounts (maybe Tumblr, and for sure Instagram -- in at least some anonymous posting which no amanuensis on this planet could channel and which I have personally had the pleasure of giving her the pleasure to 'like' two things which are extremely private and cherished to my deathbed in content and expression, her fandom ... well, just think of three artists who started the year 'Criminal' was released; now, Google their names; now take a look at their latest charted releases, tour schedules, and social media account; see anyone hanging on to every wacky, serious, funny thing that comes forth from her frothy brain? No.
Potentially Fiona Apple "Shameika Said" Complete Recounting (with dramatic reenactment) 2020 'Best Found Song ' 'Album' 'Music Video' "If a man is whipping you and you love the whip, what is he doing to you?" -- overheard Laurel Canyon, CA 1972 [concentration, awareness, compassion] Nominated for Grammy for LESTER BANGS' 'Rock Crit Good Shit' 2020 Award
Potentially 2020's Best Found Song / Album / Music Video Masked Anonymous Fiona nee Maggart Apple
If you love the whip, what are they doing to you?
https://assets.atlasobscura.com/article_images/24618/image.jpg •
Fiona Apple This Summer, Fiona Apple not only found her lost Muse potentiate, but
Senescence:
When Stepney told Apple that she had kept up rapping since her school days, Apple suggested that she do a remix for the song.
The pair ended up writing an entirely new track, which features a rap verse from Stepney and a sung verse and hook from Apple, as well as
collaborating with Apple on the animated music video for “Shameika,” where she provides a spoken intro.
“Take a moment, take a moment, take a moment.”real-life Shameika Stepney on new song, “Shameika Said.”
Fiona Apple released “Shameika” on FTBC in April.
Stepney “had potential” too, a rapper for 30 years, she came out to Pitchfork after Apple fans clamored and Mediated her discovery over, all folderol from the years between Shameika's L'epiphane du raison during Middle School penitential sessions of being bullied.
It all started the year 'Criminal' was Unleashed.
She's excitably giddy and painfully sensitive to all her favorite things, but mainly her dog - along with music, and her man, she sings in 'Shameika'!
of potential, and did she have it?
did Shameika hit that bang on the head?
Because, like Shameika, not only full of potential, but full of the gift named after those whose gift is to spot it in others.
sometimes the potentiator turns what she saw in others to that which she finds in herself, potentially.
So when that happens, and the two find each other, it can only be a good place, and there can only be one word for what Shameika was and is, and who saw what in Fiona Maggart -- oppressed, misunderstood, profoundly talented, and what bullies were giving as lashing, strength to get that mule to leave!
what bullies don't know about the meek, they now know about ms. Maggart and Shameika, her spotter. and what she knew was:
when the Devil Tongue cuts with its leather snap and marks where it never goes away, it leaves something in whose backs, whipped, tied to a tree.
something which few of us can hardly imagine.
Shameika the Spotter, saw it.
In her mind's eye she saw Fiona go to a Prayer Wheel spinning it three times backwards, as she rounded the raised structure where it stood.
She then saw something she did not understand.
She saw Young Fiona Maggart in a dream state, propulsively rounding a peristyle, pushing and pulling prayer wheels over, and again and again, and over and over, until evening descended in the cold mountains of Shangri-La.
She decided to speak to Art Mag, to really find out for sure (from her training she knew she had to ask three questions which all had to be answered in the affirmative).
She gently whispered the first question into her ear, only loudly enough to make herself heard above the murmuring peaceful noise in this Prokosch landscape:
She did this two more times, pulling out a pad and writing as best she could what fiona answered, in gulps and swallows -- rushing, rising streams, eddying whirlpools and rivulets ROILED against the shoreS of her mind.
and that's the time Shameika Told
Fiona Maggart Apple [she] Had Potential
postscript for lovers
we should not be surprised to notice too, those whose pleasure it is that they may have served the bedding of this woman, troubled, too brilliant artist from whom the light pours out brightly, impossible to get one's head around, if one were in the bad business of running tabloid newspapers, or that which resemble those yellow journo, former inglorious, romantic, hackneyed art / information / necessities, none of whose qualities apply one could assemble a flawlessly accurate list of persons from the beginning of Fiona Apple's sexual awakening, before fame, before brilliance was a shining thing known only to herself and her parents.
a list of an exorbitantly rich assortment of lovers, boyfriends, husbands, paramours, rock star flings,
Secret husbands, strange bedfellows -- you can count (did she date Paul Reuben? I will have to ask that woman some questions), all emanating from the gorgeous, sexy syllabilator of Brobdingnag proportion, Cuisanartrix au journals, paperscraps, miraculously staying together as never-enunciated bombastic curlicues -- the pedantic academia of a tenyeared tweedy prof, who should have been written by Phillip Roth;
a professor of whose extracurricular activities, one activity was done with the most ribald pleasure, that one which was the smoking insulation of good Humboldt weed while Rochambeau over drinks to male TA's, pulling tablecloth verses, stanzas, cadenzas, from her brain, as a Morgellon's sufferer pulls multi-colored threads from under fingernails, which may neither be burned, nor seen by most of us (in Joni Mitchell's case, also pregnant).
mixed in ever so like the precious nut in the mix whose rarity, therefore its value causes it to be the least frequently seen and most exciting, delectable nut in the can, whose cache, here, Fiona's notable company in a non-existent club whose presumptuous compiling is nothing if not rank and reviling, which if one were in the know of even what one thought was possible in an outside guess of a ballpark figure in which to contextualize, not sexualize this list of what this list might include, in order to be of any value, at all, of a list whose constructing, was not taken up on a Sunday afternoon to be put away, unfinished, until Sunday dinner, when one would find one's brain listing toward lists whose listed subjects under this category, at least, would one of the most erudite, varied, disproportionately eccentric, impossibly beguiling, even to take one or two whose ego or intellectual prowess, if not, equally brightly shining-from-within resembling hers, one would find it impossible to do the simplest hypothetical but tellingly, real and innocuous mental calculation of seating even two of the people included on this list around the same dining table with two others -- yourself and Fiona.
The most varied stable of ex-husbands and lovers.
invest in a large Machine, Algorithmically terabyte full of compendiums necessary to form a Dataset which research parameters, technology and statistical, ontology, and metaphysical hardware would one need, if one, at even half-capacity for authenticity were to try to construct 6-degrees of separation, even something more high school yearbook staff, for distinguishable, breathless, this class of Fiona would call alumni.
as sterling a group of imaginary diners as ever picked up a fork, or check.