May there be no roots, only Holy Innovation. May there be no responsibility, only Holy Disruption.read more
What kind of music do you play? What race are you? Who did you vote for?read more
You realize that most of the things that you have taken in with your mother’s milk, are a collection of folklore. Random approximations, inaccurate statements seeded with a possibility for love.read more
I was on my way somewhere, and I saw a guy yelling at the girl on the subway platform. Time went by, and he kept yelling. From the conversation, it seemed like she didn’t want to go to back home with him and he didn’t agree. After ten minutes or so of listening to his red-faced screaming and swearing at her, I asked her if she needed help. I felt like if I didn’t ask her and just stood there with a long face like everybody else, I would betray my humanity. My interference made him leave although I am sure the second I was out of sight he was back. He tried to yell at me, too, but didn’t get very far. Not me. No fucking way.read more
When I look around hoping to see freedom, I see survival and maybe content. It bothers me because it screams of emotional poverty. And I know it’s conditioned because everybody is born with bright eyes.read more
On that day, I avoided the path of a linguist / ethnomusicologist turned sex slave by an inch.read more
Tessa is a strongly opinionated singer and musician living in New York. Her background is in classical piano, linguistics, computers, ethnomusicology, and Tibetan studies. She fronts Tessa Makes Love.
Robots are on her shit list, and this blog is about not taking shit from the machine.