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.