Eyes are crevices, life like a double negative

Philly crimin-al, I rhyme my, dirt Tariq already did
-The Roots, "Step Into The Realm"

We see things in varying shades of whatever tint we're most willing to let our light shine through. For some, that color is green. For some, it is red. For me, that color is Black. Black like the night sky that love to gaze at and feel secure in its aura as I randomly go out and about between midnight and dusk. Black like the skin I'm in, pigmented with poise and passion and pride. Black like the vinyl that symbolizes my collective life's experiences.

I grew my record collection today. Step by step; crate by crate. It's time will come. And when it does. These wack b!tches betta beware.

On Tuesday, I did some networking and realized how un-smart i am. In a room full of brainiacs and social change leaders, it actually was also a quasi-feel-good moment knowing I wasn't the most techie cat in the building. But it definitely may have led to some good contact and connections for several reasons.

The Roots joint came to me as I was reading about the recent sentencing of Steady B and Cool C. It made me think back to last Sunday's eipsode of the Boondocks in which - although I was not feelign the first half of it, I thoroughly enjoyed the rest - MLK got real ignant on the ignant n!ggas that had ruined everything. I can't help but how much of a waste of potential has gone down the drain. And it's not even a matter of did he keep it real, but the logistical irony is what annoys the fuq out of me. Son (Cool C) gets sentenced to be executed on the same dat BIG was murderded. But in addition to that, as essentially the forefathers of Philly hip-hop along with DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince (fuq that will shT), it's a sad state of affairs when the creme of the crop from Philly are also known for their fair share of run-ins with the law. You'd have thought Beanie Siegel and Cassidy were jurors as much as they be in court rooms. "Life in the Ghetto" is more than just hustling (too much hidden meaning there - google 'em) for hip-hop to continue to get characterized by a bunch of bullshT entertainers (not the artists) who can rap a few lines, but do nothing for my pulse. Speaking of flatlining, Cam was sucking his own sausage again and is getting at Jay, but after all the Lambo profiling, civil rights invoking, barney rapping that I could take, I'll have to continue to ignore you, duke. So anyways, back to the MLK episode of the Boondocks. I wish I could find the script. Definitely something I would like to print and frame. And lastly, all this started (well not really, but really though) because I got tired of hearing about Pimp C (who got real creative when thinking of a name because Cool C was back in the 80s - another issue in itself) get out of prison. I won't waste too much time, but let's suffice it to say, son had a fam waiting on him, yet let's just say he was up in the Bentley showroom and jwelery sto fo sho. Hmmm. Now there's a thought. I should create an entirely new blog dedicated to letting bum a$$ rappers hold my nuts. For now, we'll let my man A-Plus hold you down.