I heard you got the fever for the flavor

Inspired by recent posts by people whose blogs i read, i felt the need to squeeze this in before these last two hours disappear.

Hate no one but love only a few
Franklin, Grant and yeah mom too
-Dres of Black Sheep, "Flavor of the Month"

• get more of my family & childhood friends up here to visit and enjoy the city and the midget in our environs.
• make more of an effort to reach out to my pops and his children.
• grow the record (LP) collection a keep that childhood dream alive. think Q before Bishop lost his fuqing mind.
• come up with some measurable resolutions that i can track.

• organize all of my pictures better.
• become a certified PMP.
• get that family tree built. well at least five branches/generations worth.
• write a living will.

• do more side consulting work.
• volunteer at least once a month.
• save enough to try and cop a new crib.
• redesign my business site.

• be a better mentor.
• craft a vision for my high school's alumni association and pass the torch to someone local.
• research new child care options.
• get rid of the mazda.

• take a trip to Atlanta to visit little sis.
• be nicer to local lil sis.
• be a better father, son, friend, companion.
• keep better track of my tax liabilities.

Hurry up and get a scoop before it's gone...

Kuumba / Creativity

To do always as much as we can, in the way we can, in order to leave our community more beautiful and beneficial than we inherited it.

On this New Year's Eve and the 6th day of Kwanzaa, here's a shout-out to those creative minds out there trying to do their thing the only way they know how by staying true to themselves and creating works of art that transcend barriers.

Strugglin's just a part of my day
Many obstacles have been placed in my way
I know the only reason that I make it through
Is because I never stop believin in you
Some people wonder why we here in the first place
They can't believe because they ain't never seen your face
But even when you pray, the next day you gotta try
Can't wait for nobody to come down out the sky
You've got to realize that the world's a test
You can only do your best and let Him do the rest
You've got your life, and got your health
So quit procrastinatin and push it yourself
You've got to realize that the world's a test
You can only do your best and let Him do the rest
You've got your life, and got your health
So quit procrastinatin..
-Cee-Lo

keep struggling. keep pushing. keep innovating.
keep repping. keep doing what you do.
keep being you. keep motivating. keep making moves.
keep loving. keep striving. keep it moving.
keep it thorough. i ran out of shT to keep saying...guess i ain't as creative as i had hoped.

Nia - Purpose

Who said good folks is not supposed to die
The same {n!gga} that said {n!ggaz} is not supposed to cry

To make our collective vocation the building and developing of our community in order to restore our people to their traditional greatness.

I've been BS'ing these past few days since the midget has been gone. I should be reading and writing and chilling and relaxing and balling and doing all sorts of stuff to occupy all this free time of mine. I nearly wasted the last two days in their entirety just lounging about while working remotely from the crib. So with only one day remaining in 2005, I'm trying to clean out my closet and get myself situated for all that needs to be addressed or rectified or set straight in the new year. I need to handle those resolutions and make some strong headway localy in terms of the effort I put forth on extracurricular activities. I've fallen off slightly from the hyper-active student life I once led, which was recently pointed out to me that I am no way nearly as involved as I used to be. So yeah...I can't be slacking off just yet. Too much shT going on. Too many MFers BSn on the job. Too much stuff that could use my attention. Too little time to tackle 'em all. But like it says - collective vocation - my purpose here is beyond stacking paper, copping a fly whip, and buying the bar out at the club with the fellas. I need stimulation. I need to seek more stimulation to spark a mental rebirth so that I can get out of this funk and move into a new realm of activism reminiscent of the high school days and the 2000-2001 year.

I pledge allegiance, they got my knuckles bleedin
From crawling , got these {n!ggaz} thinkin they really ballin
when they isn't
-Andre Benjamin, "In Due Time"

word. in due time.

It's like I'm fighting for freedom, writing for freedom

Like in the ghetto photo wit one n!gga in the chair
Holdin liquor in despair, gang signs in the air
I shine in spaces where time is just a glare

I went to a church Wednesday night. It wasn't for an actual church service but for a community meeting to address a lot of the despair, destruction, and death that has ravaged Boston - mostly its Black neighborhoods. It's not even a regular looking church either. It seems as if it used to be a supermarket building or something. But anyways...as non-religious as I pretend to be, I do get deeply motivated by some semblance of sprirituality. I will readily admit that my greatest fear is death. It does not consume my being, but its ever present and all-eoncompassing finality haunts me to no end. Plus, as I mentioned in the Christmas Eve posts, I won't front like I'm immune and unaware of what surrounds me. I don't do suburbs. But I need to do more. But sometimes I get annoyed with myself for saying it without really putting much actions behind those words. So there's another resolution to add to the list. Do more.

Street ministry, my poetry's a penitentiary, track is visitation
Sentences is life, I'm like chief up in this demonstration

If I don't more, who am I to complain. If I don't rep like I could/should, who am i to raise a son. If I don't speak up, speak out, and reach out to those willing and unwilling to listen, who am I to claim to be worthy of my quasi-comfortable lifestyle. More brothers are literally falling prey in this city of mine where violence pervades teens' lives and less than half of the high school's use metal detectors. So back to the community meeting. I signed up to do my part. We'll see what the follow-up will be. There were a lot of people there, many of whom I am certain are each doing their part to help and be part of the solution. But there's also a part of me that is skeptical of some people's intentions. Like Antonio Ansaldi for instance. That ain't even his last name, but I ain't even trying to go there right now. He was one of the main Stop Snitchin vendors, but no he's about to start selling shirts that say Start Peace on them. I like the concept a lot. I just hope his heat is truly in it. And yes...this would be the same Antonio..twice thou...form RSO...made me...benzino's homie. Yeah...ummm...skeptical like a muthafuq.

My ancestors, when I'm writin I see 'em, and talk wit 'em
Hoping in the promised land I can walk wit 'em
-Common, "1-9-9-9"

My family is unqiue in that is is very, very large and extended. I'm known as the person who tries to act as the glue that keeps a lot of the disparate sects in touch with each other. Actually, there's a lot of people I'm related to that are not related to each other, but just go with the flow becuase the bond is tight like that. Anyways, I am fortunate enough to have three great-grandmothers wtill alive. Two of them are big-time travelers and once again, all of them will be in the same city in two weeks. As much as I don't want to mention it, I won't get many more chances to try and get them all together for one picture with the midget. I truly love taking pictures, but there is something about an intergenerational photograph of three of your great-great-grandmothers that should go a long way to fostering a sense of identify unmatched by what any other momento can do for the midget as he grows up. So that is my goal. My moms is having her annual post-holiday party on Jan 7th and I'll be home that weekend to do some eating, some chillin, some eating, some partying, some reminiscing, some bonding, some eating, some hugging, and some picture-taking. I miss home at times. Going back keeps me grounded and reminds me of why I'm here. To represent for my peoples.

Time to start thinking bigger and better

As 2005 winds down, I'm trying to get my shT together and I hope my peoples are doing the same. To that end, I'mma have to go ahead and start compiling my list of shT that needs to be done better in the new year than it was this year.

Read more. To myself. To the midget. For pleasure. For business. The first three pieces to tackle. Rich Dad, Poor Dad. A meaningful kiddie story with Black characters. And that PMP study guide I've had sitting on the shelf all along.

Work out more. I've been really good at getting back on the court. I've played at several area courtrs throughout the city; from outdoor courts in the Fens to Washington Park in Roxbury. And at indoor facilities from the Reggie Lewis Center to Mildred Ave & Mattahunt communty centers, to the Marino Center at my alma mater. But it's not the bball that I'm stressing this time around. I need to be doing more sit-ups and push-ups and grown man shT like that. Hopefully, my man Harold will help to get me pumped up before 2007 hits.

Manage my money even better. I've done a fairly decent job. I got by and did all kinds of crazy shT when I was broke as a joke. Then the ill jo piece put a dent on plans because it changed my situation too much. Now the new job piece is paradox; full of highs and lows that cause both frustration and elation...all in one breath. But still I need to keep better track of the expenses, pay closer attention to all the tax breaks and incentives that I should be watching, and continue to grow my savings and emergency duckets. As the Disco's injury made clear, shT can get drastic real quick. Plus, I want to cop another crib.

Real gangstas make hood holidays

Gramps still prayin' workin on my nerves man...
Like, "Son you gotta get your soul clean...
Before they blow them horns like Coltrane..."
But still I cry tears of a hustler
Wipe tears from my mother, pull out beers for her brothers...
That's above us, make beds for the babies
Tuck kids under covers, buy cribs for their mothers
Sh!t I'll probably be wylin' with their fathers
Tell Ms. Robert, tell Enijah that I'm ridin' for her father
That's like my brother, like same mother different father
-Beanie Sigel, What We Do

Pretty worn out tonight. Still trying to figure out if today went as well as I think it did or if is just a figment of my imagination. We had mad kids show up today and they came deep like a mutha. Some even came more than an hour early. It also became quite clear that more than a few of them thought they were gonna be getting paid for their attendance. Yeah right, B. That got addressed with the quickness. But all in all, it seemed to go pretty well. We willl definitely have to limit the attendance next time so that the numbers are more manageable. As for the sessions, there was a tremendous amount of interest in the Web Design and IT Support tracks, while web development had minimal interest. But of course, since there were a good 40 people who showed up without pre-registering, that had the good fortune of not being able to choose their track. Default, duke. But man oh man, it was a truly hectic day. And it sounds like - for the most part - the students were receptive and appreciative of our efforts and I am similarly appreciative of their interest in our program, but also for showing up that early in the morning two days after Christmas during their holiday vacation. It takes serious discipline for that. The kids were pleasant. Our team was pretty on-point in terms of being organized and collaborative. My wake-up call/nudge was timely. The weather was straight. The food was enough. The instructors were good. Let's keep this streak going.

As for the Beans verse, that is one of my favorite ROC songs. Everytime I hear that song, my head bobs at a feverishly frenetic pace and my neck snaps and convulses with mosquito-like grace. I had about 40 Kanye West instrumentals playing as background music during our downtime and it seemd to work well.

And still we grind from the bottom.
Just to make it to the bottom

Some cliches get beat into the ground to no end. The more things change, the more they stay the same. That's one of those oft-repeated phrases that seem to apply to all kinds of situations. But the grinding aspect is so appropos and ironic at times. I heard and read some things thta stuck with me throuhg tonight and the grinding analogy was the most fitting way to put them all together. We strive for success and shoot for the stars, only to continue the cylce. It's kinda like the business buzzword of process improvement; constantly trying to improve our personal, mental, physical, and spiritual output and efficiency and productivity all while aspiring to happiness. It's a delicate balance that sometimes crushes our spirits, causes feelinsg to get hurt, wears you down, bears a heavy burden on your shoulders, or uplifts you. But if it doesn't matter to you, then it definitely doesn't matter, right? Ah hell, time to start pondering those new year's resolutions so 2006 is not as hectic and topsy-turvy as year as 2005 has been. But it is a starting point. Gotta grind from somewhere.

Speaking truth to power

Nice to see another Los Angeles Times article; this one doing justice to the notion that hip-hop play a pivotal role of influence in cultivating activist minds. Definitely a noble read, albeit a bit sparse, but some quality research accompanied by a wide-reaching scope and tangible results and anecdotes.

Then, I end up reading this Newsweek article about my man Saigon. Yes, that Newsweek. Yup, that Saigon. A little skimpy and suspect though becuase as much as I do enjoy his works, I know damn well he ain't super polished and without his share of dumbed-down rhymes to appeal to the masses. Whether it is that true street shT or some catchy buck-bucking in the background, he shares his culpability in making the music that doesn't necessarily contribute to the common good. But damn...there's something about him that just has me amped beyond conception for his album. I recall earlier this year in one interview when he said something skin to "you have to come to the people as they are and meet them halfway." I hope son gets his chance to let the world hear his voice because the shT he has to say is realer than real.

But if you wanna get realer than real, look up the name Ken Saro-Wiwa. I came across two recent articles and it took back to a place a time where I wish I could briefly relive for the simple joy oif being able to piece together the names and locales of those whom I've since forgotten. But seriously, the Boston Globe had this article , entitled, "Burdens of oil weigh on Nigerians," while the Observer has this memoir by Ken Wiwa entitled, "In the name of my father." Deeply moving. So as you can see, the world moves a fast and hectic pace, but there's always room to affect change one-by-one. I can recall being in high school and ending up in Atlanta protesting in front of a Shell corporate office with picket signs and TV cameras and really getting into the activist spirit to shed light on the imporper business practices of a multinational corporation whose policies were adevrsely people my peoples on the other side on the Atlantic. Nearly ten years later, we see how the more things change, the more they staty the same. Speak truth to power, my peoples. It's the only you you're gonna be able to make that spiritual come-up.

Silent Night

Perspective. This was definitely a different Christmas than usual. Pretty slow would be the most fitting description. But I did get to speak to the little soldier and wish him well. Apparently, they woke him up at 5am and he wasn't phased. Actually, they said he tore through all the giftwrap and goodies like a madman hellbent on destruction. Plus, it's pretty funyn being on the other side of the phone. When he's with me, I get so frustrated when he simply stares at the phone or grunts at the voice on the other end. But put the shoe on the other foot and man oh man...the kid is comical. He'll say hi and bye-bye in the same sentence. But hey...at least he seemed to recognize my voice. As for how the day went, it was very, very quiet and laidback. Some laundry, some recycling, some reading, some cleaning, some dishwashing, and a little bit of eating. As a matter of fact, I'm on the prowl for some leftovers right now, but alas...I'll have to resort to Honey Nut Cheerios to hold me down for the night. Maybe Monday will bring bluer skies and a better day. But I did get a very nice gift from a certain young lady that was a pleasant surprise. It's kind of like climbing the corporate ladder. It made me realize that as attentive as I think I am, there's always someone else paying closer attention. So yes...there goes one of my resolutions for the next year. Be more attentive and an actively engaged listener. That, in turn, will hopefully make my spur-of-the-moment conversations a little better as well. We can only hope.

tis the season

..for some sleep, food, and god tidings and shT.

but let me just say metphorically - that John McWhorter is real wack right now for this lame a$$ article that does a disservice to himself. I'm saying...if you're gonna be a cultural critic, do some fuqing research first, B. Oh my bad...I'm cyber-thugging...whihc is no different from being a conscious rapper, accorindg to him. D!ckwads....

Actually, speaking of d!ckwads, Benzino keeps his status in tact with lamer-than-lame verbal threats via voicemail. Yes, voicemail. And yes, I saved the number and plan to call it again. Thi sis the same dude who is actually from the Bean. You would think the muthafuqa would be more proactive in trying to get the hood on its feet. But alas, maye the extortion theory was right on point. Maybe he's really from Brookline, just faking the funk. Punk-a$$ gangstas.

So if rap anger isn't a meaningful message and no one can still give a straight story on why The Source is cracked-out shell of its former shelf, then how about telling me some real fuqing asnwers. Shed some light on that, both of you lazy summumma b!tches. Merry christmas, muthafuqas.

When hands reach out in friendship, Hearts are touched with joy

Last Tuesday, December 20th, marked the 12th anniversary of the shooting death of Louis D. Brown. His moms, Tina Chery, has since found solace by founding the Louis D. Brown Peace Institute, an organization devoted to comforting and counseling the surviving victims and families of violence and working to prevent such crimes as youth gun violence. Ms Chery, along with a (unfortunately) growing legion of other mothers who have had to bury their children provide me with comfort. I've only met her this year and I'm mad (at myself) that I had not met her sooner. It is a noble cause but very emotional and some shT just ain't right. These women, mothers, daughters, grandmothers, and the men too - put in countless hours and sleepless night comforting families wounded by the battle scars of urban realities. Without time for convoluted commentary of complexities of the street's lure and existence, their plight goes largely unnoticed. But these are our heroes. Eighteen days after Louis was killed, my sisters and I witnessed the murder of a 21-year-old on our block while we were on our way to Wendy's for dinner. Herbert Louis Frazier, Jr. was shot in the head by his former homeboy over some shT no one still doesn't know to this day. But it's shT like that make you hang your head in shame. I'm not even from Boston, but the concrete jungle can truly be as cold as ice, when on a crisp January morning, you could be walking to school and that night someone is laying on their back as a stream of blood trickles across the sidewalk you walk along every day eight doors down from your crib.

brothers just don't know
how shit got to go
cuz I was told
to never give my back to the street
as I walk through the ghetto
dead souls I greet

Some people have life moments that never leave their mental imagery. This is one of mine. I grew up decently. No big money spenders or earners, but we got by. Food coupons got quietly incorporated into the cash flow like half of the neighborhood, but some true, true street shT was never the goal for any of us. Not even the ones from the crime families or with cousins or odler brothers head and shoulders in the game. It - life - was supposed to be on some simple shT like that Ghostface joint. Some would go on to college , some would go on to a 2-year joint, some would be lead astray, but to just completely fall apart? That's not how it was supposed to go down, B. At the vigil on this past Wednesay, I heard form several people, including two fellas who recently lost their peoples to violence. One kid's cousin was merc'd on Thanksgiving and played a moving piano piece, although he claimed to never have touched a piano before in his life. The other cat was a fellow group member of the Graveside, the group of which three of last week's four shootign victimes we also members. His words were unscripted but eloquent nonetheless. You could feel the pain in his heart. The worry in his bassline. The body shock that shook his existence. It is ok for a grown man to cry. It is his right.

see my man give him pound
then I walk with a frown
another minute
another brother's gunned down
-quotes from Li'l Dap, "I'm The Man"

I look back and wonder what the hell possessed me to travel for hours to school all those years when all I really wanted was to get home early enough to enjoy the rest of the daytime like everyone else. But of course, like Nas said, "nighttime is more trife than ever." So this Christmas, I'll enjoy my hours of solitude away from the peoples (the fam) and reflect on all of life's intricacies that I have blessed to enjoy and bask in the glory that has allowed me to keep breathing. Some people look with bewildered amazement when brothers my age say they are excited to have made it past the age of twenty-one. And in my case, I know I am not an exception, because there a lot of us doing our thing out there, but the fact that there's so much more work still to do is a burden that we bear solely. For brothers that get caught up too early. For brothers who lose their way. For the ones led astray. For those who get the experience of waking up on the morning on their 21st birthday. It's a shame that this is even my subject, but it is life, and alas, it is what you make it. But like my man M-1 said, "my environment made me the n!Gga I am." When we pour out a little something out for soldiers dead and gone, it's not only for those who died for their sins. But for those caught up in the cross-fire. Caught up in the streets. Caught up in moving too fast instead of going with the flow and enjoying their youth. So on this holiday season, I'll try to shake loose the mental imagery of bodies that I've seen slumped lifelessly on city streets, sidewalks, and parking lots and pray for a better existence in 2006. It's a stone's throw, but somebody's gotta fling it, nahmean. Stay Up. Say Word.

My shT holds a mouthful so I guess you know what's up

I thought of writing this shT Wednesday night but just didn't get around to it until now. I ended up working late and not making the peace march, but did catch all of the program that followed. Very moving. Purple was evrywhere and you could feel the love and urgency of the vibe in the air. Real people doing real things to make real-life not seem so unreal.

muthafuqas act hard
thinking that they are God
ni&&aS just don't understand
let me be my own man
did everything on my own
and everyplace wasn't home

The parade of speakers who stepped to the mic included a variety of folks from throuhgout the community who are either active in making the streets safer for our children or havebeen touched in some way by the violence the plagues our urban locale.

everywhere that I'd rest
I had to dress with a vest
I guess you get the routine but with a lot of stress
frustration on my mind
brothers doin' mad time
rhymes are organized like crime
as we're rippin' the lines
-quotes from Li'l Dap, "I'm The Man"

Sometimes you can't help but wonder if it is all for naught. If all the years of schooling and studying and shT wind up being utterly useless because eventually you'll simply succumb to the lure of the streets. Be it the fast life or the calling of outreach, i can't seem seem to shake that notion out of my head. It bugs me, perplexes me, annoys me, frustrates me, awes me, and inspires me. Today is Christmas Eve and all these disparate thoughts run through my head as i try to cling to my past while praying for the future. A week before it's time to start seriously pondering what we'll resolve to do differently in the new year, I'm still waging war with my consciousness to pick a path. It ain't all clear-cut, but the options that dotted my mind's landscape four years ago ahev altered dramatically. And not necessarily for the worse. I just hope I can make sense of this madness before it's too late. For me to adjust and make the supposed impact I think is there. For the streets to be reclaimed. For this generation of youth strung out on the blue steel of despair. It's funny how shT comes full circle when you least expect it...

I'm nine-hundred and ninety-nine thou short of a mil

Brownsville, home of the brave
Put in work in the street like a slave

Just sitting here pondering why it is that I am a functional imsonmniac. My night-owlishness cann get on some ill shT at times. I'm a completely drained from a rough Tuesday, yet I'm still up and Wednesday is my toughest day of the week. My a$$ is in big trouble.

I'ma do what I wanna, quiet as kept
[Raise hell!] Til I was tired of stress, yes lord!

If the title sounds familiar, then you apparently know what the fuq is up. I'm not a fan of violence, but like my man HC said, sometimes you gotta just let loose. However, I so disagree with the notion that their sound is purely fight music. Billy Danze and Li'l Fame are my peoples for life. And while I am still torn on the inside over their aligning with G-Unit, I'll let it slide. I can recall blasting Ante Up way before anyone really knew what the fuq was going on. As a matter of fact, I can still remember that punk a$$ cop that piulled me over on Euclid ave in Syracuse because she thought I was "taunting" her, when in fact, I was just humming the chorus to Ante Up. Ok, ok, so maybe I wasn't humming. Ok, ok, so maybe it was the "YAP That Fool!" part of the chorus. Nonetheless, it was my feel good music and she put a damper on my muthafuqingnight. I still don't even know how it ended up being an aboveground hit, but that shT was lovely to be able to hear them at a party a month later and see other folks really get into it. Truly some classic shT. It's great when you follow someone doing their thing, persevering over time putting their blood, sweat, & tears into the craft and to finally get a brief moment of shine. Some may only recognize them as those yelling dudes or the rock & rap cats, but we know what fuqing time it is. Just like people, hip-hop comes in many shapes and sizes and sub-genres and colors and decibels. So here's my personal shout-out and thank you for two brothers who've held me down over the years. True examples of doing whatever the fuq you want to do and not taking no shT from nobody. Salute!

Peace in the Streets Vigil

PLEASE HELP SPREAD THE WORD, PLAN TO ATTEND, AND BRING/SEND YOUNG FOLKS...contact Cindy Diggs to let her know if you plan to come...Cindy.Diggs "at" childrens.harvard.edu

For Youth, Youth Workers, Parents, Teachers and other concerned adults

Wednesday, December 21, 2005 at 6:00 PM

Starting at The Great Hall

6 Norfolk Street in Codman Square

(Next to the Codman Square Health Center)

(#22, #23 or #26 Bus)

PEACE

It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of these things and still be calm in your heart.
-(unknown)

Reception to follow at the Great Hall from 7:00 to 9:00 PM.

Move from awareness to commitment to action.

Do it with Love, Unity, Faith, Hope, Courage, Justice, and Forgiveness

Supported by American Friends Service Committee's Critical Breakdown, Youth Truth, The Great Hall, Project Hip Hop, Reflect and Strengthen, True Hip Hop Culture Program, Louis D. Brown Peace Institute, Save the Youth Ministries, STAR Program (Casa Myrna Vasquez), YMCA-Central, Just Think Positive Inc. (J.T.P.), Phillips Brooks House Association, MIC, Let Us Live Entertainment, The Get Right Crew, E1 Live/Events with an Edge, Youth and Police In Partnership, Youth Enrichment Services, The Universal Zulu Nation and UMMF.

Please wear your purple peace ribbon or your peace button for a lost loved one and make and carry a Peace Poster.

It's not "The Apprenti." It's "The Apprentice."

I can only summarize it because it's not like i've ben watching much TV lately. but the big homie did it. Randal Pinkett is the latest winner of Donald Trump's show, The Apprentice. Yes, he's the first Balck man to win. Yes, the haters are still afloat. I'll let my homegirl Dizzy give you the straight run-down on the finale and the ensuing bullshT. I'm loving her analysis right now of how his win proves that "nice guys finish first." See there, being an a$$hole ain't all that it's cracked up to be. But nonetheless, big shout-out to the big homie for doing his thing all season long and repping for his peoples; Black people, entrepreneurs, Black men, engineers, business leaders, techies, nerds, track stars, Jersey cats, NSBE members, and all others.

• Trump's 4th New Apprentice: Randal Pinkett
• HATCH Magazine interview
• Boston Globe snippet
• BlackAmericaWeb
• MSNBC b!tchy article
• Viewers angry over new Apprentice Randal's response dissing Rebecca

in other news...Snoop's mom came to town this week along to kick-off an organization of putting action behind words of positive influence. She seemd like a nice lady when I met her on Wednesday. And it's just unfortunate that she came right in the midst and aftermath of this week's latest shooting. Kelly Price's mom, Claudia price, also was here along with Ricky Davis moms too. Didn't I just say something about Snoop not too long ago? Hmmm....well at least it's a start.

lastly....wtf?!

real random

four more Black men died tonight.

what more can i say?

i'm tired as fuq right now and wed is the longest day of the week for me. this week's hump day will leave me feeling like I just got humped. ok, that's a bad image, cancel that shT. start over. ahem....i will be a bit worn out by the time the day is over. yeah...now that sounds better.

hopefully, i'll wake up in 4 hours like i should.

ha...fat chance...but here's to optimism. say goodnight, b!tches. i'm real random right now. oh well fuq it. i wanna this one out to my n!gga killa B, no doubt indeed.....

Redemption

I wrote Hustler's Prayer the other day. It was for myself. But it was for a lot of other also in similar boats. Boats that have them barely afloat. Boats that have them adrift. Boats trapped in endless hurricane-like weather conditions.

But like Nas and Damien Marley say, "you got to keep on walking, on the road to Zion."

It's funny how twisted life's ironies can be.

In less than four hours, the state of California will execute the 12th man since it began doing capital punishment again in the 1970s.

Stanley "Tookie" Williams is in jail guilty of murdering four people in the year of my birth. Four lives were lost at the hand of some dIckhead, but Williams insists he was innocent. The facts of the case are what they may be, but Williams has since dedicated his life to ant-gang rehtoric and activism focused on preserving the lifes of those youth in the streets most susceptible to a life of crime and sense of belonging that comes with joining a street gangs.


I find it ironic that Jamie Foxx played Williams in a powerful movie, Redemption, much in the same vein that Denzel Washington played Rubin "Hurricane" Carter in Hurricane. The crazy shT is that I met Carter in 2001. Well actually, he was my buddy for a day as me and me homie KY organized a lecture and arranged for Carter to fly to Bean and give a speech and receive some awards from our organization. I had the pleaseure of being the limo driver and hotel escort and it was definitely a moving experience. As you may recall, Carter was a prize fighter (boxer) back in the day who was found guilty of murdering several people in Jersey, yet he mantained his innocence.

After years of activism, the truth finally set him free. And for the life of me, I cannot get the parallel between the two men out of my head.

What if Carter had given up afte all those denied appeals over the years and just succumbed to a sense of hopelessness. I would have never have met him. His words of perseverance and vigilance would never have resouneded around the world.

Yet, we brng it back to the reality. Ain't no fairy tale shT here. As many people as Schwarzenegger has killed in movies over the years, it was finally announced officially that Williams clemency petition was denied by the California governor.

I don't like violence. I don't like crime. I don't like gangs. I understand the need for all of them under certain circumstances, but there's some shT that you just don't need to be doing, feel me? However, I do believe in the power of the human spirit. in the ability of a man to change his life around. I've seen it happen. Hell, I even could have gone a different route had I not made some strategic life decisions and sacrifices of my own. Yet, with time comes growth. We all grow old. We all grow up. The timing may vary by individual, but it spritual epiphanies are not abnormal. It's a part of life. I just find it unfortunate that Williams life will not be spared in view of his post-conviction commitment to the future; our misguided urban yout out there struggling to find their way and make sense of the daily struggle. I can only hope that his execution will not lead to the further disillusionment of a new generation of brothers teetotaling on the egde of life or death; good or evil; street shT or productive livlihoods.

So pour a li'l something out for Tookie. Guilty or not; his impact of inspiring a generation of brothers to cleanse their souls of their sins and seek redemption should not be forgotten or taken lightly.

Shout-out to all the reformed soldiers out there striving to commit themselves to making their tomorrow today.

Hustler's Prayer

Health, Wealth, and Knwoledge of Self
I pray for empowerment to continue to do what it is that I do
For strength to hold shT down like it should be held down
For foresight to see shT the way it needs to be seen
For simply being able to wake up in the mornign after I write these words

I pray for the day when my toil is replensihed with rewards
When my sweat is cashed out for ghetto soliloquies
For the day that my effort is recognized as not having been in vain
So until then I will simply maintain the course

And continue to pray for the opportunity to go from ashy to classy
Yet still flip shT while doing my thing
Because although i cannot sing
I still can bellow the tune of turmoil
Make cold blood boil
At times I feel stuck in the mud
Undecided whether I want to go for the appluase
Or head for the doors and take it to the streets

Six feet deep is not my cup of tea, B
But it's hard to shake shT you saw in the early years
Hard to curb innate tendencies borne of your youthfulness
Life's only as real in the field as you make it
Yet some shT is hard to break
Though it's pretty easy to be fake
But then I guess that's why I prayed in the first place

So that I could live my life without worry
Without regret
Without shame
Without pain

The bane of my existence was to be on that bullshT
To instead go against the grain
And keep it realistic
Cuz I ain't trying to go out like that, son

I'm trying to do what I can to show this little homie the ropes
But it's funny how we're both students at times
The blind leading the blind
The humble leading the mumble
And I ain't without my faults
But who ain't?
I just pray I imprve upon them to in turn improve upon myself
Take each day as each second comes and goes
The tick tock of nature's rollercoaster urging me to keep it moving
Coercing me to go with those gut instincts
Suggesting that I go for broke
Reminding me that the stakes are high

So I pray for blue skies and wide eyes focused on the prize
I pray that I rise to a new day ready to slay any bullshT that may hinder my way
For favor with those whom I need to hustle and have solid relationships
And the ability to balance empowering my peoples with stacking chips
I pray for for my soul to recover from its physical wounds and forgive me for my neglect just as I hope to be able to forgive others in the same vein and reclaim my destiny

I'm movin a$$ backwards wit no forward progress

I was taught trust in the law but still tie up your camel
Use your tongue as your sword and your books as your ammo

-Beanie Sigel, "I Can't Go On This Way"

This has been one helluva week. A lot of back and forth. A lot of traveling throuhgout the city. A lot of meetings. A lot of handshakes. A lot of quarters. A lot of emotion.

And it's supposed to snow about 4-8 inches on Friday. Hmmm. But that's only a dusting so it's whatever.

I got a chance to play some ball again tonight and my thumb is still throbbing from last week's hyperextension.

Apparently, the discussion witht the youth in Cambridge s gonna have to be shelved due to some complications with filling out CORIs and response times or some shT like that. The dud is necer around that I need to connect with when I call, so oh well. Maybe we'll get it right eventually.

In other news, Project Hip-Hop is in the midst of its donor appeal. I submitted the addresses of several close friends. It'll be interesting to say the leats if any of them actually get the letter and actually donate. That would be fly. But it's all just a fantasy for now. I'm trying my best to be as involved as I can be. But there's definitely room for improvement. Hopefully, we get some good help from donors looking to exercise their charitable giving for the year before Christmas hits. That would be dope.

I attended a mixer for the alma mater's Black Alumni Association. Very small turnout. Very small. But I know there's potential. I already have some shT in mind, but then each time I dream, I realize that spreading myself too thin would be counter-productive to the cause. Pick a cause. Time to cut the skinny and focus.

Speaking of focus. I printed out my application from Feb for the program that didn't accept me. The goal; have a new draft of the essay with tangible focus and vision by Sunday night. Disclaimer: 3 AM on Monday is still considered Sunday night in my book. Time to make some forward progress and get across the goal line...

Youth Truth

Sunday, December 11th, 12-6pm at the Cloud Place, 647 Boylston Street (across from the Boston Public Library)

Critical Breakdown & IBA present 'YOUTH TRUTH'.

Youth Truth is a workshop where young people speak truth from their lives.

Bring/send young people to this dynamic workshop where young people pick an issue effecting them, then choose a workshop (mc'ing, spoken word, graff, dance, or street theater) working with b-boys/girls, spoken word artists, graff artists, mc's, and community activists and come up with a five-minute performance piece using that art form that tells their truth about the issue.

This workshop is free and open to all ages. Pizza provided.

For more information and to RSVP, call 617-312-9190.

Morning Wood: A great way to start your day

real random, but fuq it.

A coupla snooty b!tches is about to get smacked.

Did some good networking on this weekend and cleaned the snow off the Mazda today with a shovel because I left my ice-scraper thingie at work. Go figure. Didn't make it out to the Lizard Lounge Sunday night, but oh what the hell. I got some work done and caught up with two friends I haven't spoken to in a while. One homeboy I last saw a few months ago when he was extra stressed out and the homegirl I last saw about four years ago since she left town. It's good to hear from both of them. Always good to hear from your people who were your peoples before they were your peoples. nahmean? Sounds odd, but if you unnastand then you unnastand. Plus, talking to them reminded me of some others with whom I need to re-connect and check their pulses. So anyways...

As much as I'm tried to avoid it, I think I'll pony up the dough this week to bring Big Blue back to life. Yet, I truly fear that some fould shT is gonna go down and I'm gonna have to either fork over more money than originally anticipated at the outset of the work, or some next shT will break, burn out, rust away, leak, or crack about a week after the repairs are done. But the L that I'm gonna take regardless of which route I chose would be substantial, so I'll stick with trying to hold on to the fella for a while as I am partial to my Disco no matter how un-unique it may be around town. Knowing my luck, I'd be the first one to have his new Honda stolen.

But in what has to be the most terrific fuqing news ever spoken this weekend, my sis called me Friday night and said, "bring my nephew to the game tomorrow." WTF?! I know this b!tch did not just pull a Jordan on me. Well, by golly, I think we've got it, son. ShT just got real muthafuqing interesting for the GNAC folks. Say word. Your homegirl is back. Yes, the former all-conference performer is finally going to be making her return to the team this Tuesday against Newbury College. I cannot really convey my excitement becuase it really doesn't seem like that much of an event. But there's so many layers to it that you'll just have to take my word, yo. I finally get to reclaim my title of #1 fan and now that the midget is a little bigger, he'll actually get to enjoy the games this time around since his attention span is a little better. So this will definitely be an ongoing story. I don't even know if it's definite if she'll play on Tuesday or when her first game back will actually happen. The whole gym was buzzing with her sitting on the bench at this past Saturday's game. So just imagine the craziness when she walks in with uniform on ready to rumble. Bring it on, B.

Holiday POPS

I couldn't resist...

I am not a morning person

No real announcement here. But there's something about waking up with the roosters that is just not my cup of tea. I like being a night-owl, dammit. This is just too early to be up. I'll probably be eating all dam day as my stomach tries to adjust. People that actually get up this early regularly are truly dedicated. I can't do it, B. I like my flexible schedule. It's definitely one of the pros when I say this job has its trade-offs.

Duh, b!tches

So the work laptop froze up on me about 3 seconds before I was about to hit the publish button. I even had an ill quote from a Nas joint as the title, but now I don't even feel like finding that shT again. I had written a nice little ditty about the emotional duress I had to endure whilst tryingto enjoy a nice evening of basketball. But I've lost the mojo to retype what I said so to summarize. Grown a$$ men need to act like grown a$$ men. Leave the pride, the ego, the jealousy, and the tough-guy shT at the door. This goes to both REESE and ALEX, who both acted like some bona-fide d!ckheads tonight and ruined the mood. There's too much other drama going ion for me to have two break up a fight twice and bear-hug someone while pinning their arms backwards to prevent further scuffling. Yup...tonight's games sucked because of you two. This ain't Norfolk, Almont, Franklin Field, or Washington Park. Leave that dumb shT alone. Comprende, muthafuqas?

National Day of Absence against Racism, Poverty and War

This was 45 minutes ago. They are headed downtown now. See the site for more info on Rosa Parks Human Rights Day.

I've Got 2 Million Guns In My Trunk

Caught your attention though, right? This is three-part quickie vent.

My man 9th Wonder eloquently clears the air with some straightforward shT from the heart. Don't attack the cats really making an attempt to do the right thing with this here ART-form, muthafuqa.

Speaking of Little Brother, I quoted Phonte a while back about how "when you ego trip you end up losing your luggage." Well, it seems some group out of London put the proverbial foot in their mouth by rashing on Rhymefest for some perceived disses against them. It's really not that serious, muthafuqa. Shut the fuq up and rap. Better yet; make hip-hop music. Take a step above rapping and really represent for the UK instead of threatening to fuq someone up. That shT is just making you look even wacker, B.

For the record, can we just stop all the tough guy shT in general. We've just hit the ten-year high for murders in the Bean. With another month to go, it is unfortunately a very safe bet to say that we will be eclipsing this record, potna. And the two most recent death? Two seventeen year olds. WHAT THE FUQ?!I cannot help be feel helpless, but still...you'd think something can be done with simple steps to curb the gun flow. I picked up the latest copy of a student-produced newspaper called T.I.P. and one article written by one young lady said something to the effect of how the guns are being passed around like a library card on Lyndhurst Street. If the name doesn't sound familiar, it's the same street that caught a lot of heat earlier this year for the abundance of heat popping off ((pun intended) and ended up under occupation for week. But all the attention seems to have died down now. And top all of this off, gun battles are still raging at FIVE P.M. IN THE MUTHAFUQING AFTERNOON and some kid decided he'd be Jack Spade for the day and rolled to school with a burner tucked in his waist. My head hurts...and it ain't my mouth causing it this time. As a matter of fact, if I only do one ounce of work tomorrow, it will be to contact and talk with Tina Chery. Whatever baby steps are necessary...we need to be about our biz. Just got finished talking to kat no long ago so all interested parties can pencil in Dec 12th or 13th as the date for the stop snitchin workshop in Cambridge. Mari and I already did some brainstorming and I put a slight bug in a few people's ears. Now, it's time to do some heavy recruiting; some heavy lifting too. Am I my brother's (or sister's) keeper? I'm trying, son.

Our hands are the ammo cause the battle's still on

Sound the horn
We come rumbling through the function
Precise laser beam techniques to touch something
When we die hard
They'll build an monument to honor us with
Humungous effect in the world
We could have conquered it
-Inspectah Deck, "Above the Clouds"

Nonverbal clues. Sometimes they're are more meaningful and telling than the words that are emitted from your mouth. There used to be a point in time when trained in the particulars of public speaking, the instructor would specifically cite several exmaples of poor hand management. It could be an excessive use of colloquial gestures, fumbling in pants pockets, inadvertently throwing up the wrong set's signs, and leaning on or hunching over the podium. But let's take a closer look at the hand skills for a moment.

There are ways to get by. Not too long ago, I got complImented for my balanced usage of hand movements to complEment what I say. I say that to say this; times do change and when they do it is unexpected and sometimes you just have to go with the flow and adapt as quickly as possible. Not assimilate; just adapt. So using your hands when speaking is now in. Saying so-and-so is "in the builidng" is not. I won't even front like that was original thought either. It was mentioned in today's Metro. I wasn't completely feeling the article, but that topic stucl with me. I'm all for the effective, efficient, and proper use of slang. But damn, son. If you're at an outdoors concert and you say so-and-so is in the building.....I'mma need for you to get it together, B. Find a new phrase. But I digress...

Back to the hand skills. It's just one of those things that comes and goes. Much like a fad, the ebb and flow of what's acceptable can come and go in the blink of an eye. Just think; y'ou've probably heard some dumb shT said by fashionista to the tune of, "pink is the new yellow" or "a pretty-boy shirt, tie, and sweater is the new button-down." Yeah whuteva muthafuqa.

Just be yourself.
Wear whatever the fuq you want to wear.
Wave your hands however you wanna.
Fuq it. Wave 'em in the air.
Like you just don't care.
Just get your point across.
Or put it in writring.
Do you and you'll be aiight.

Sunshine plays a major part in the daytime

You ever get the feeling that you've been here before. A dizzy friend of mine said she think she was a mean football coach ina past life. Yeah ok. Would it be too odd to think you were a prior clone of someone in the current life though? Because Tony Starks stays with some one-liners that I just eat up. Case in point, he's on this hot new joint called "The Mask" with MF Doom and says, "my money green like my nickname was celery." What?! Yeah, I can get with that. Actually some of my bills are a bit faded, but still the point is duly noted. Yet my pocket veggies are just as pliable (ripe) and liable to wilt (stale) in the blink of an eye. Note to self: I need to play the lotery this week. I don't even need a big come-up; an itty-bitty one would suffice.

Just like those folks in the corporate rat race climing the ladder of success...no matter how much had wok and sweat equity you invest, ther's always going to be someone who's putting just as much or even more work than you. So it ends up being a case of never being able to slack off or risk the chance of being left behind or being cast away as a lazy summa b!tch.

I want to lamp, I want to be in the shade
Plus the spot light
...
I wanna have me a phat yacht
And enough land to go and plant my own sess crops
But for now, it just a big dream
Cause I find myself in the place where I'm last seen
My thoughts must be relaxed
Be able to maintain
Cause times is changed and life is strange
-Ghostface, "Can It Be All So Simple"

Better than tomorrow. Worse than yesterday.

And that, class, is today's answer to the age-old question, "how is your day going."

But hey...at least my whip didn't get stolen like my neighbor and - as Harold points out - I don't work for GM.

And I'll be damned if Honda ain't ring my phone at least a half dozen times this morning. Geesh. Chill out, B. Unless you plan on giving shT away, be easy.

Shiver Me Timbers

Well, blow me down
-Some pirate dude

Today wasn't as bad as I had originally imagined it to be. Ok...well that's a slight lie, but whuteva. I managed to do a decent amount of work today and follow-up on several projects that needed some immediate status checking. I even found time to dabble in some code and perform some search engine optimization by tweaking the META tag settings for another of our clients.

But the day can be summed up as this. The big boy toy has come to its fork in the road. [pause for the audible sigh] While enroute to the New England Institute of Art to recruit some new project managers, I had the good (sarcasm, b!tches) [mis]fortune of reciving a call from Ron over at the auto shop I visited last week. And naturally, seeing how November wasn't ended on a sour of enough note as it is, he proceeds to break it down to me in quick en-glez that the batmobile is hurting...bad. So, I could say OK and fork over the $2500-$2800 (yes...he have a fuqing range) that it would cost to repair the dilapidated head gaskets or I could do something else. Something else should not be in my vocabulary....

So I somehow manage to finish work, play some ball, and waddle my a$$ over the the Honda dealership. Why? Because I'm bugging, yo. I really, really love the Disco, but I'll be damned if I enjoy throwing money into a black hole pot of money that provides no gurantee that something else won't happen to break or rust or wear-out or give way or leak on me next week. So I hit my man PAM earlier in the day to gie him a heads-up but I'll be damned if son don't have me waiting for a while. So after eating his lunch (fyi: the jerk chicken strips from Wing It in Allston are that next shT), we crunch some numbers and now I'm sitting here thinking long and hard about this shT.

Do I forsake the uniqueness of my beloved whip, sell my soul for a 401k, and cop an Accord like every 4th driver? Or do I put up a good fight and find a way to give the green light for the Disco's resuscitation? The clock is ticking. They'll start charging me more if I don't hurry up and call AAA to get them to tow it from their lot. This shT is really sucking right now. Fuq it...lemme go visit Nissan first. I got Maxima on mind. Camry too. Oddly enough, I feel like it's possible for me to get played either way. [insert gasface here]

Met her back 89. Now she 22. Acting like she 40.

I think the whole world's goin insane
I fill my mind up with liquor, and drink away the pain
-Mobb Deep & Q-Tip, "Drink Away The Pain (Situations)"

So basically, I BS'd the entire fuqingturkey day holiday break, but oh well...fuq it. I still enjoyed myself. However, my seemingly mundance toothache has taken on a whole new spehere of influence that I'm sure will make this week interesting to say the least. So here's a random asesortment of random shT that I've read on the web over the last few days that either entertained, enlightened, or amused me in way or another....because....like I said....I've been mostly sitting on my a$$ these last few days. While everyone else has been snacking on leftovers the last few days, I've hit up the west indian spot for some stewed chicken, the pizza spot for a slice, the kitchen cabinet and fridge for some oatmeal, and the gym for some r&r. But I did get to spend a lot of quality time with a certain lady, which was definitely the highlight of my holiday. So maybe it's a case of sweet-tooth that I caught. But then, how do I explain the nerve-splitting headaches I caught on various inopportune moments while driving, eating, and playing ball this weekend. Now, that shT hurt. Back to the show...

• Overheard in New York: The Voice of The City: a sometimes funy site of random snippets of life's awkward, funny, and ironic moments. but this shT had me laughing harder than a mutha...
• 18 Tricks to Teach Your Body
• Simple Memorizing Techniques
• 7 Ways to Speed Up and Optimize Windows XP
• GraffitiGen - dynamic graffiti generator
• Mash Up: hip-hop & golf. a dope article on how hip-hop can be used to attract more youth to the sport. it draws a parallel to what we can do with project hip-hop and makes the connection and a serious case for the benefits for all-inclusive education. definitely a discussion starter for our next board meeting.
  
• Audible Mainframe - AM is a hip-hop collective that includes my man DJ JayCeeOh. Their Flash-based site is sick beyond belief.
• a laugh: benzino is such a clown that it ain't even funny. but it is interesting to read some of his odd answers in this interview. plus, what exactky did chubby chubb get? please clue me in. zino may have some serious street cred, but he's still a d!ckhead nonetheless. but it just goes to show you, even hip-hop's morons still get more press that the cats that rep the realness.
  
• Baby Hip-Hop: what a great xmas gift idea
• and lastly....my peoples over at UndergroundHipHop.com. I hit up the store (near Symphony Hall and the Prudential) this evening to cop some extra audio nutrition for the soul. Definitely the place to hit up when in need of that real hip-hop.
  

Man who catch fly with chopstick accomplish anything

Ever catch one?
Not yet?
-Mr. Miyagi

It's time to pour a li'l likka (ahem...juice) out for Mr Miyagi, real name Pat Morita, who passed away recently. I can recall being very into the Karate Kid movie when I was younger so although his death is not as sentimental as someone who is close to me, it still is a remnant of my childhood. Plus, he served as one of the old wise sages in life that dropped jewels with damn near every other breath of air.

Man walk on road.
Walk left side, safe.
Walk right side, safe.
Walk down middle, sooner or later, get squished

Sometimes, I wonder if I'll ever be able to truly accomplish the goals in life that i lay out for myself. ShT, I find it difficult enough just trying to outline all of those goals in the first place, much less putting together a plan of action to tackle it all. Like Daniel, I don't consider myself no tough-guy, so I don't usually try to give off such an aura. I'll admit there will be the occasion when I have to put a li'l more thump in my move than may seemingly be necsessary, but it's probably due to my prior preparation and awareness that there's a d!ckhead-in-waiting along my journey.

A fly swatter would be easier to tumble life's road block, but then how would clean up the mess? I see commone sense and hindsight as life's chopsticks. You can pick apart certain situations using logic to get out of jams and conjure up a stream of consciousness that far surpasses any old bullshT a naysayer could throw at you. Plus, what doesn't break you will only make you stronger, right? So why not go for the gusto, fight for what you believe in, give it your all, and go all out. Basically, show and prove...for yourself...because other people's opinion of you are none of your business. Nahmean?

First learn stand.
Then learn fly.

So, rest in peace to Pat Morita, a 73-year-old man who survived Japanese internment camps and became a movie star, yet still stayed true to himself, repped his peoples, and kept it real. In the grand scheme of things, what more can you ask for?

Imperfect World

I'm been sitting on my a$$ for a few hours now, so I need to go take a shower and show my man Al some birthday love. But, my fuqing jaw really, really hurts right now. So much in fact that I took some Tylenol last night and it held me down lovely, but yet I feel like a pitbull just took a shT on my scalp and then stomped it out, because my shT is bumpin, B. So anyways, I had some really good food yesterday in Dorchester and only made it to one other group gathering for the day.

La hija retarda left her celly at the crib so she didn't call me back until several hours later after I was trying to find out where she was so she could come chill. Sounds like she had fun regardless though. Plus, I wanted her to meet my friend to see how the two of them got along, but alas, the chick was M-I-A, so next time. I really like it when I'm involved with someone with whom I can match wits. The chill sessions are so enjoyable. I've been smiling a lot lately...well not really...but kinda.

I got to check off one of the items on my to-do list from October. It seems Freedie J's Cleaners didn't throw away my three pants after all. And sad to say, but "Brotha Blue" is still under-the-weather. My man at the first shop said it would be a bit beyond their scope so I hazard-lighted it down Hyde Park Ave to Gerardo's to leave it for the weekend. I'm gonna have to pay for at least one hour of diagnosis, but I really, really....really, really hope it's not the head gaskets. If so, that shT would not be fly, son.

Nike done made me smile: We all know (well at least I do) how ill and unfortunately - short - the track, "Be" from Common's latest album was, so of course any video for it had to represent. Well, let' sjust say your boy Paul Hunter done did the damn thing, dunny. The summary states that the clip is meant to trace Jordan's BK roots to to the Chi, but the hell with all of that. The video matches the song's soulfulness pound-for-pound with some great cinematography of real people livign real life. And on top of that, it features Jumpman rep Carmelo Anthony, Q Richardson, and T.O. And yes, you too shall grin when you see T.O. pump his fists in the air. This shT is beyond dope. But of course, the only gripe I could come up with is that how ill it would be if MJ actually repped more than he did in his prime how different things would be. I'm still not a fan of dress codes, so fuq em though, but really though...ain't it odd how when people have the greatest leverage and influence to make an impact they're less apt to rep. Just plain fuqing pitiful.

Percy got something to say: This dude in Michigan had a lot on his mind and upon stumbling upon it, I can get with some of this. Now imagine if T.O. or Ron-Ron or even Nick Cannon (gag) let some shT like this fly out of their mouths....shT that makes you go hmmm.

My Low End Theory

. Happy Turkey Day, b!tches.

It's late...well technically it's early in the morning, but really it's just very late at night. But anyways, i got home around 4am or so only to look out the window 2 seconds ago and see that appears to have started snowing immediately after i walked in the crib. What The FuQ?! So my first thank you will be for getting home safely on fumes because the gas station that I thought was open was not. On top of that, I'm whipping around the Mazda because the big boy toy is sick. And as much as I enjoy the added oomph when I put the pedal to the medal, it is always troubling when I park and my elbow is damn near touching the sidewalk. Plus, since it's been noted that I have big, ashy a$$ hands, you'd think I should be able to steer that low-riding summama b!tch a bit better, but alas...I never really was a sedan guy anyways. But that new Maxima and the hybrid Accord are dope as fuq, dontcha think?

I'm also thankful that I not sychronized homothugging it like Mr. Jackson in the above picture. His corball meter keeps growing by the day. While in the tri-state area over the weekend, I had the chance to hear several interview snippets of him running his jibs about this and that. Now, you would think that some folks would leave well enough alone and simply shut the fuq up after a while. Keep digging that ditch, n!gga. I'm sure more than a couple of BLACK MEN are waiting in the shadows ready to clap your a$$ just on the strength of the redemption. I bet a coupla n!ggas got their scopes on lock as well. But I digress, I don't do well thinking about violent shT.

I've got a few more thanks, but seeing that picture put the icing on the cake for me. I'm just glad I keeps it real.

I'm thankful for my family and friends.
Honored to be schooled in the ways of the world by those whose shoulders it is a privilege to rest upon.

Thankful for the gift of life and sense.
Content with the strides I've made thus far in trying to lead a life of quasi-righteousness.

Thankful for the ability to think criticaly and walk to the drum of my own beat.
Hopeful for the promise of a new tomorrow and the bloom of a new day.

Thankful for arising to yet another morning...ahem...late morning/midday/noon
Grateful for the opportunity to share my hopes, dreams, talents, gifts, vision, and insight with the world.

Thankful for the midget who wistfully (sans the occasional grunting & whining) has inspired me to far greater heights than I ever previously imagined
Appreciative to those who have shared their hopes and dreams with me and let me peer into the windows of their worlds

Thankful for the chance to intake this air and impact the world in some eventually meaningful way
Blessed to keep it moving day by day

Thankful to you for read my words, thoughts, nonverbal emotions, and uncommitted rantings on life, music, love, hate, parenting and all that spans the clouded space that comprises my life. Word.

Showing me her tan line and her tattoo

Singing Sade's Sweetest Taboo...
Burning candles
All my other plans got cancelled
-Mos Def

A divergent post from the jump about relationships, both friendly, harmless, plutonic, man-to-man, passive, misplaced, misdirected, missing, and intimate. But now I think I need to like my graphic designers and write it down on paper first and get back to you. Lemme go handle that. I need to flesh this idea out more fully. Sorry for the cocktease.

Either you slinging rocks or you got a wicked jumpshot

Sometimes, the options are limited. You may have a selet few choices that pose serious causal effects on you life. Sometimes, it's the tit-for-tat of life that either empowers us or brings our spirits down.

I'm in a funk right now. But it's not that bad (or smelly). Just a minor mental detour that has me distracted from the everyday struggle. So I'll just strive for balance and let the struggle continue. Plus, I keep night court hours, so I know it's my fault that the little person is a night owl, but you would think if i wear his a$ out that he'd go to sleep and stay asleep. You are retarded if out haven't yet figured out which path he opts for. But anyways, I can hang so it's whatever. However, as much as i try to not comment too much on 50 cent, to try and avoid giving him any more play, i can't help but draws parallels between his new movie and certain DVD from out of my hometown. I might have to re-edit this and paste the article here later if it's unaccessible.

So basically the moral of my story is woe is me. I try not to complain or b!tch about shT too often, but sometimes u just need to vent every now and then. Inhale...

I've bs'd on my holiday plans so i'm probably gonna just float around town, work is piling up to my earloads with no sign of letting up, i have yet to put together anything of significance for my girl kat's youth program in Cambridge, my truck is fuqed up and in need of engine work, there is a boatload of clothes that i have yet to take to get dry cleaned, there are 3 pants that i have yet to pick up from the dry cleaners, dry cleaning seems to have gotten dumb expensive in the last 2.5 years, i don't feel like i'm pulling my weight much at work, my old job is turning out to look not-so-bad as i thought, i'm feeling guilty for regretting the heavy pay cut i took to take the current job, and even more guilty for not helping my friend much with her move, i haven't had too hot of a track record at sticking to something this year, there are a lot of unchecked boxes on my multiple to-do lists, i have no clue what to do for the holidays, my net worth is looking alright but i'm still BS'g on a couple of uncovered financial bases, i'm not playing ball as often as i used to, i weigh 40 pounds more than i used to weigh, i still don't lift weights that much, and there are stil some old friends with whom i still haven't connected.

But i'm alive and well, right?
Breathing fresh air, living how i wanna live.
Doing what i wanna do.
Writing what i wanna write.
Working where, how, and when i wanna work.
Being how i wanna be.

The options are endless if you put your mind to it.

NSBE Luv

Just taking a brerak right now because the puppies are killing me, yo. I fell like Isaac Hayes in Jim Brown when his joints were bulging near the end of the movie. Heard some good things today while at the NSBE Fall Regional Conference here in Stamford, CT this weekend. Only remmbered a few of them enough to write down though.

One quotable came from a rather boring IBM rep who did happen to have some good food for thought. He spoke as part of the Graduating Seniors Reception the NSBE professionals hold in honor of the shorties making it out into the real world over the course of the next few months. His lines went something to the effect of being both bold and wise in your decision making habits.

Dare to take risks
Dare to learn
Dare to innovate

Pretty simplistic, but meaningful nontheless. I'm gonna have to pull a straight jack move on money. The other quotable came at this evening's awards banquet in the form of our keynote speaker, my man SGM. His speech was dopeness squared. But the snippet that stuck most with me from his speech was his breakdown of what he deemed is life's three states/modes of living:

• survival
• success
• significance

In essence, they comprise an idea cycle to define life's meaning. Thus, without leaving this wolrd in better shape than when you find it, how truly significant (or successful for that matter) were you with the live you lived?

I've gotta send a big shout-out to my man DW from Cali and SJB from Kansas City for coming through at the last-minute and helping me out by serving as judges for the Undergraduate Studies in Technical Research poser presentation competition. We saw some truly innovative, creative, and eye-opening research projects that shine a bright light of the future of black scientists striving to do their thang. The winners truly deserved their honors, and I hope they can translate their regional success into a national title as well.

All in all, it's been a good conference so far. Due to the action-packed and well-received workshops, the leadership panel that I was to appear on in the afternoon just so happened to get canceled. But it's all good. The judging wore me out enough. And my collegiate chapter made me so damn proud because they contine to rep to the fullest and carray that torch for the Huntington Ave fam. Regionally, they took home both the Chapter of the Month (Sept) and the Chapter of the Semester awards. And on top of that, their chant (MJ's Beat It) was the ish and they racked up with New England Zone awards. But apparently, the new breed seems to be a bit mellow overall, but of course it's only because us mid-twenty-year-olds are truly getting up there in age. Although change is uncomfortable, it is also unavooidable. But it was cool to see the new faces and reconnect with my peoples from across the northeast on some real shT. Plus, now that I'm no longer as in the mix as I would normally be at this conference, I got a chance to meet some new peoples, establish some good connections for random other enterprising and networking purposes, and continued in the tradition of fostering that NSBE luv. And that's what it's all about.

Atttitude reflects leadership, captain!

-words spoken by Big Ju aka Wood Harris in Remember the Titans. Speaking of Wood, he and his big bro Steve really turned that mutha out in Common's video for the track, "Testify." That's some serious fiyah on the strength, son. haha. i crack me up.

So anyways, I'm sitting here thinking of shT to do to keep myself occuppied while the short guy decides to go toe-to-toe yet again. I tell ya...this kid is of another planet. So this time, we do out thing, run around town after I scoop him up after work. We head back to the crib and he gets his grub on, but since it's Thursday, we dash right back out to the gym. I'll give him this much; he was damn well-behaved today. Much better than I expected. he only threw his ball on the court once the entire time we were playing ball. But lawd oh lawd, little did I know he was secretly hiding the real ironman shT for later. Now I figure, we did the award tour with muhammad my man thing and played with his soccer ball at the fieldhouse. So please tell why this dude still didn't want to call it a night at 10:30. Better yet, why did I proceed to put him to sleep, do some laundry, eat my dinner, and hop online, only to hear him downstairs talking to whatever imaginary friend was in town for the pre-holiday and click-clacking away on something or another. So what was the click-claking for, you ask? Let's just say that when I decide to venture back down there at damn near 12:30am, money runs back to the bed and appeared to summersault his a$$ up there. But maybe my eyes were just messing with me, right? So apparently, something is just a little too fuqing fishy though. So, I notice some items are not where they should be, nor where I last left them. Let's just say the my ab roller seems to have been used as a 'dunkin donut' with a certain bathroom fixture. So it's safe to say that he didn't see much light after that episode.

So to make a long, rambling as story meaningful, I read three recent blogs by people I actually know that - although they don't exeactly have parallel themes - have similar undertones. This one ponders the phenomenon of anonymous blogging where you only know bloggers by their URL and the words they write and share for the world to see. Then, speaking of the world to see, this one talks about how the world sees fat people based upon a recent tv show that did some sorta hidden camera makeover to make a skinny chick look fat and detail the differences in how she was treated. Then to tie it all together, this one talked about interest, passion, and motivation and how finding your passion can be both stressful and empowering, which is kinda related to what my man TonyS said back in October. But then it's kinda like the Reverse card in Uno because ChezNiki mentioned similar stuff in an earlier post about her career goals and I have had several similar such conversation with a couple of good friends on the very same notion of how you can do what you need to do right now as long as you always hold onto the dream of doing what you want to do. Like my man Kweli said, sometimes we do things just to get by. But if getting by end up being the end of the road, then did you ever progress? So it's funny how some ill shT can have you all stressed out and serious and studious and senile all at once. But then again, seeing shT like this makes you hopeful that you'll still be able to find your passion and be able to flip sht with it. So I'll end with this, just like a good leader should leave a legacy of having nurtured future leaders, finding your passion to me aslo entails helping others to explore, identify, and cultivate theirs. It's only fair, right? Attitude does indeed reflect leadership. Nahmean?

Since when did the Roxy get all ethnic?

First, I catch wind of Smif-N-Wessun and Buckshot performing tonight. I'm still trying to put my mind around how they did that and how in the world I'm gonna be able to make it. And now, I hear that the Breed Love Odyssey tour will be swingin through town three weeks later on December 1st. Lemme find out they done went and got new management with some hip genes in their DNA. I can get with this [2].

You'd think my name was Bebe

I feel sorry for trouble if it runs into them kids.
-Ron Harris

Yes, my friend, it feels just like it looks. Like a bunch of lightning bolts running through the skull simultaneously. It's going on nearly four hours that I've been trying to get this half pint muthufuqa to go to sleep. And while I am graciously trying my best and doing everything in my power to maintain my discipline and composure and not throw his punk a$$ up against a wall, the situation is gradually deteriorating.

The crazy part is that I already had him on the verge of sleep twice tonight, but somehow, like Mimi/Mariah, this dude just keeps bouncing back. Maybe this really is the twilight zone because I swear I saw dust balls skipping along the street like this was Dodge City. So basically, I left his a$$ downstairs right now and he is currently banging away on the bedroom door. But it's not like it's locked or anything. He keeps opening and closing the door (read: slamming that mutha) and hollering his lungs out(more like growling now. it's his cresecendo). Oh well...you would think the hollering your lungs out part would get him tired and eventually wear him down. No, no...not Super Toddler. And to think, we had an early morning and he still is trying to go toe-to-toe with king night owl himself. The nerve of this mutha...pissing me off to the highest level of pissivity.

Actually, I had originally planned to wear him out quickly and put him to bed by 9pm so I could get some work done since it's obvious not enough time in the day to attend to everything I need to hande with my job. But of course, bam-bam said this is Burger King today, b!tch. He's gonna have it his way regardless of what I say...or shout. And since I'm a bit weary myself, I think I'm gonna have to wave that white flag and call it a night. I think this will have to be filed under "stolen moments to recall when it's prom time." The nerve of this mutha...

You ever dance with the devil under the pale moonlight?

Here's the cause of this shT, more statistics, deeper than the laws of physics
-Nature, "Deperados"

Don't think for a second that I'm repping Batman, sunshine. Shout out to everyone who remebers The Firm album. This a quick plea for help from any local nerds willing to volunteer 3 hours of their life to a worthy cause. It's not like any local nerds actually will read this in the next 36 hours, but oh well...fuq it, right? So basically, our NSBE chapter is taking our NSBE Jr. chapter down to the conference this weekend. The shorties won the Try-Math-A-Lon qualifying match in October and thus have a shot at comepting regionally. They've been studyting and getting tutored the past few weeks on Tuesday and Thursday after school at UMass-Boston and the midget and I swung by on Tuesday to lend a helping hand. For the most part, the team as a whole is on top of their math game, but man oh man, physics is the devil incarnate. That shT had me going batty for a good 30 minutes. I'll admit, I was never the illest physics student in the first place, but damn yo, I swear I was one of Dr. Boorman's best students back in 95-96. So what happened? Son, either my brain cells fried, that shT got way harder, or I must have mistakenly thought I did better than I actually did. At least I was able to breeze through the math practice test. A couple of ratio problems, some percentages, some exponent multiplication, some long division; it's all good. I got you. As a matter of fact, I even got to play teacher for a bit, with chalk dust caked up in between by thumb and index finger as I demo'd several sample probelms on the board. Felt good. Definitely will file that one under 'need to revisit.'

But when you start talking about wattage and joules and force and work and effieciency output and kilojoules; ring the alarm, please. Your boy needs some assistance. I was that deer in the headlights. The phrase 'the blind leading the blind' can be so poignant at times that it ain't even funny. So if you're reading this and think you can lend a helping hand this Thursday, holla at the kid. They'll be there for an extra hour, from 5:30-8:30pm trying to get all the last-minute cramming as possible in preperation for the next day's voyage. Hoepfully, we can come back on Sunday with big cheesy grins and something to show for all of their hard work. They're good kids and are putting their best foot forward. That's all that reall matters anyway, right? Word.

Let me explain how I maintain thresholds to pain
I walk across the sun barefott looking for shade
-Canibus

Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive

Sean Price was on to something. On Tuesday, I had to wake up at what seemed to be the dawn of a new millenium because it was soo damn early int he morning. But anyways, I managed to slalom out of bed at 7-something in the morning and casually made my way to the Orange line and then downtown to the Suffolk County Courthouse at Pemberton Square. Let me tell you, this place is so tucked away that it isn't funny. It's actually not hard to find, but it's quite the elusive structure nonetheless.

So anyways, I get there by 9 to wait in the large jury pool staging area and cross my fingers hoping for a short visit. Yeah right. We end up sitting there for a little while until my panel gets called up to one of the 20 courts in session. We hear about the case that is going to trial and have to answer questions about any conflicts we may have. Now that I think about it, there were a few people who did seem to be just raising their hands for just about everything, inclusing this one older brother who clearly did not want to be anybody's juror. So anyways, they start impaneling cats individually and inch ever so close down the list to my name as people get excused left and right. So the first 14 jurors get situated and then guess what. Yup, two get removed by counsel. Back down the list. Ok, so we're at 14 again. Not so fast buddy. Back down the list again. Ok so they are finally all happy and squared away and the rest of us are grinning from ear to ear thinking we've made it and can see the light at the end of the tunnel. But of course, our delight was quickly shTTed on when told to report back to the jury pool room. I counted at least a half dozen nonverbal 'fuq yous' in a span of two seconds. Now at this point, I'm already way beyond hurting because naturally, my dumba$ decided to forgo sensibility and stayed up until 4am the night before. So I'm a bit blunted-eyed to start with, not to mention the slight headache that had my head thumping for the previous 24 hours.

Everything after that is bleary. If I had gotten robbed, I definitely would be of no use to a sketch artist. I can faintly recall about four specific moments where I literally felt my head bouncing back up. If you're not sure what I mean by bouncing, then you obviously were very serious and studious student. I, on the other hand, have been sleeping in class since the mid-ninties. Front row, window seat, last pew; it don't matter, B. When it's time to doze, I'm a goner. So basically, I remember hearing a collective shout of celebration and a bunch of bustling and I quickly realized it was time to roll out at about 1pm. Back to working world I go. But seriously, I understand the necessity of fair and impartial random people, but something's gotta give. I don't think I would have made a ery good juror. I was hurting like a mutha. Maybe we should rewrite the law books to make it a voluntary process. Just think; voter turnout would increase and mistrials woud decrease. Now wouldn't that be lovely?

Who's Gonna Take The Weight?

Seeing the Self Destruction video took me back to a place in time I would love to return, but alas, it ain't happening. Plus, life is li'l more comfortable right about now. But I'll be damned if it wasn't some real glory days shT though. And yes, this is yet another short a$$ post. Sue me. I miss Stetsasonic.

Who Pissed In Your Teapot?

It's been a very trying week on the jobfront. Things are hectic, heating up, and hammering away at my health and humanity. Yes, once I got started with all that alliteration, I damn sure wasn;t going to let it end abruptly. So anyways, let's just say that I am thankful for a lot of things. I am thankful that I learned a poem in two languages; English and Spanish. It's the one that goes a li'l like this:

God, give me the serenity to accept things which cannot be changed;
Give me courage to change things which must be changed;
And the wisdom to distinguish one from the other.

Conversely, you may recgnize it in this form:

God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I Cannot change…
Courage to change the things I can
And Wisdom to know the difference…

Either way, it has allowed me to remain cam and relatively at ease when faced with one of my et peeves, which is an event in itself because I don't possess many of those. But let's just say that some muthafuqas would seriously be six feet under if I had my mother's temper. And I do, I just stifle it well. And as much as I really do not desire to coke a b!tch, hey...shT happens, right?

What's that aroma in the air?

Trees.
So what's that mean, son?
Son, that means it's hunting season
-"Headz Ain't Ready"

OK, class. Let's aim a collective red dot at our favorite fake-ass-gangsta of the hour. Ready. Aim. Ok...well I won't mimic the sound, but you get my drift. I'm trying to stay non-violent with this one. But yet again, my man Harold Clemens commented on the bullshT with such concise eloquence ("long live the Lox, muhfucka!") that you just have to read his insight. And azuleta chimed in on the issue as well with a great observation: "Everybody has been through some sh*t in their lives. Who cares? Tell me where you're going in spite of all of that." It don't get no realer than that, son.

"Headz Aint Ready for what my clique got in store
cause what we got in store keeps us prepared for the war"

How could I move the crowd

First of all, ain't no mistakes allowed
Here's the instructions, put it together
It's simple ain't it, but quite clever
-Rakim, "Move The Crowd"

I'm in a serious state of deep thought right now. I am entertaining an offer to speak to a group of at-risk 14-to 19-year-old youth and lead a workshop/discussion on the stop snitching issue. A friend of mine, who works at a youth center as a counselor in the evenings, mentioned how weary she is of seeing the shorties rolling in and out wearing the shirts.

So now, I need to think of a game plan to logically offer a position and counter-argument as an ice-breaker to break bread. And I've got til Thursday to think of some ill shT. A debate comes to mind. But so does a panel. Or I could have a crew in tow in order to have 1-on-1 session with the kids. Hmmmm. If I come weak, it will be oh so wack. If I come correct, then well...it'll go a long way towards establishing some credibility and relevancy with the young duns. If you're reading this, I may be picking your brain in the next 48 hours for ideas. So start thinking, B.