Soldiers die, CEOs prosper

...Came across some interesting stories about a recent study that delved into the numerical irony of wartime deaths, defense companies, and CEO pay. The study found that 34 defense CEOs have been paid nearly $1 billion since the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.

Before 9/11, the gap between CEOs of publicly traded companies and army privates was already a galling 190 to 1. Today, it is 308 to 1. The average army private makes $25,000 a year. The average defense CEO makes $7.7 million.

and it's not just defense companies. them oil boys are grimey too.

The pay gap between the average oil and gas CEO and the average oil worker is 518 to 1. The general national CEO to worker gap is 411 to 1.

That shT is insane. Makes me think of the prison "industry." The report said, "democracies decay when one segment of society flourishes at another's expense." You ain't never lied.

I'm lethal when I see you, there is no sequel

I live by the day only if I survive the last night, damn right, i ain't trying to fight
photo credit: John Daley

August was a fairly good month for the peace movement. One homicide is one too many, but on the reals....it could have been a lot worse. For sure, there were plenty of non-fatal shootings and stabbings. Hell, there was even a hit-and-run that claimed the life of a young brother I chilled with earlier this summer. He happened to be a classmate of several friends of mine. But the reality of what we had feared a hot summer would look like never materialized this August. And I am thankful for it. Thankful that M hasn't called me in the middle of the night with bad news. Thankful (somewhat) that B hasn't had a need to call me to help intervene with anything. Thankful that the two dudes accused of killing Miss Perry are in custody. Thankful that I have not seen a mother cry this month.

No signs of anger or fear cuz you the one in danger
Never share your plans with a stranger, word is born
-Mobb Deep, "Right Back At You"

But with the noticeable uptick in violence this past weekend, I cannot help but wonder if the same shT will resurface. Were heads just down to take a chill pill for August and extend the peace week we had going for a whole month, or is it a more logical, covert reason? Either way, here's to hoping September through December goes a little better this year than it did last year.

You done switched from Nike to Reebok ha

I gotta give it to Juvenile. Ha was one helluva catchy song. I even catch myself and others occasionally throwing a ha in there as a suffix at the end of some profoundly insightful (or asinine) comment. So anyways, that katrina chick came through to smash about a year ago.

You want to know what we gonna do next ha

It both marvels and miffs me to witness the current state of New Orleans. From the Spike Lee documentary to the news and anecdotal reports of certain situations down there, it is simply shameful. To think that we live in a world where education is a national priority and poverty is not as bad as other places, how can things still be so sloppy? And yes, that was a subtle dose of satire. Deal with it.

You ain't even much get a chance to say a word ha

So anyways, that nike/reebok line caught my ear because I was thinking of the saying that goes something like, "wait until the shoe is on the other foot." But if you are substituting shT for shT, then all you're gonna get is some mo' shT, right? Hence, the inflective ha thrown in there for dramatic flair. A sort of self-aggrandizing way of laughing at yourself while looking in the mirror and how silly you look posing.

You don't think you can be stopped ha

A year went by and them levees ain't guaranteed to be as strong. The city ain't as populated as it used to be. Neighborhoods ain't resurrected like they were supposed to have been. Families ain't back together like they should be. And for all we know, a whole host of other shT ain't happen yet or is happening that is detrimental. Tensions between Black and Brown because of the abundance of illegal immigrants finding work at low wages. Natives with dough being denied the opportunity to purchase land while deep-pocket developers gobble up as much property as they can. Bodies still unidentified in coffins, while identified bodies still awaiting pickup. And don't forget to throw in some finger-pointing and polictis as usual to spice things up a bit.

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing out of something
You handle you biz and don't be crying and suffering
-Juvenile, "Ha"

Some n!ggaz recognize the light but they can't handle the glare

It don't take a whole day to recognize sunshine
-Common, The Light

While laid up in bed recovering from this nasty little cold that I randomly caught this weekend, I happened to go through some old files and came across the materials from the Blackout show we had in March. I performed two original pieces and did one reading. I chose to honor Ted Thomas, a man who I admired as a student and have come to know as a huge force in making Roxbury relevant to the outside world. Just thought I'd share his work so that his name does not go unmentioned in the annals of history as someone who lived their life without having an impact on anyone. Nahmean.

To A Sister I Saw/Or Remnisiscing
by Ted Thomas

I remember you...sister
You were young and we played together
On the banks of the Congo
I still remember how
The cool evening sun shone bright on your dark skin
How good the breeze felt
As you and me walked along secret paths
That led us to secret places
How nature and you and me formed a perfect triangle
And the morning sun that woke us up
Smiled a warm and natural smile

I remember you...sister
Working side by side with me
In the southern cotton fields
Toiling and sweating and dying inside
The Congo had dried up and
The sun was cold
I still remember when you were taken from me
And violated by the beast
Slowly our triangle became a square

I remember you...sister
Looking for a job and finding one
And now the hands that used to kiss the Congo
Was dipped into dish water
The knees that used to kneel in the soft grass
Was no kneeling on a hardwood floor
I still remember you bringing home the money
And me
With no job
Planning the budget

I remember you...sister
Standing by the bus stop
With your dashiki dress on
African beads and natural hair
Watching me walk by you
With a college education
Money in my pocket
And a white girl on my arm

But in my blindness
I have found sight
Because I have decided to remember
And looking into a dark past sometimes produces light

So, I remember you...sister
I saw you again, a few minutes ago
I smiled as you passed by and said
"Hello...sister"
You smiled back and said
"...Hello"
I wanted to stop you and ask
Sister, have you forgotten me?
Do you ever reminisce?
Do you ever think back to the time when?
But I didn’t have to
Because your clear dark eyes have already told me
Brother... I remember you too

we may not have it all together, but together we have it all.

the midget is back. and he's big. but i'm worried. i don't really have any other kids to compare him with. but i saw a seven-year-old on Thursday and they seemed to be the same size. hmmmm. that SC diet'll get it poppin. plus, his speech has improved a whole lot, but methinks my mother's vocab may have gotten jacked. and that's not good. oh well. on to new challenges, adventures, headaches, and smiles. word.

swearing you got pull when the only pull you got is the wool over your eyes

I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.
I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.
I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.
We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.
I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.
I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.
We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.
I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.
I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.
I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.
I am the woman who died when the EMTs stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual. (yes, this actually happened)
I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didnt have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.
I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.
I am the person ashamed to tell my own friends im a lesbian, because they constantly make fun of them.
I am the boy tied to a fence, beaten to a bloody pulp and left to die because two straight men wanted to "teach me a lesson"

Homophobia is all of the above. I'd be interested in knowing if there are any books or research analyzing the history of homophobia in the West Indies. We burn 'nuff chi-chi men, but really though; who's the loser?

Kidnap the wack and break his ankles, remember Misery?

My G is God, what's your G for, geometry?

get outta here with that fake, make-believe shT. so it's like this, right. i am not much of a video game fan. i used to play sporadicaly, but i was much more into sports as a child. but thinking back, video games wre popular even in my childhood, so i'm not clamoring to start some petition to limit their proliferation or blame them for the dumbing down of youth. however, i do prefer playing real sports over fantasy land; you know, where you play a sport using a controller or joystick though you have not touched a real ball or actually shed any sweat in months. all that to say this. these dudes managed to swindle me into their festoon of revelry that is fantasy football. and it's not like i'm against it or anything. i actually played it two years ago, but somehow nobody was really playing or keeping things hype. so naturally, there were some missed opportunities due to lack of experience. so last year, word comes down the pike that the fellas are gonna get it poppin on the fantasy. and of course, i'm like, "yeah aiight." in hindsight, the skepticism was well-justified given past absent-mindedness. so anyways, it turns into a firestorm of controversy and shT-talking. and much to my amazement, these dudes took it it a whole new level from what i saw the previous year. for real, for real on soe other shT with it. so suffice to say, i decided to get down with the get down this season. there was just way too much-shT talking going on amongst all these cyber athletes whose records depended on other people's health more than on their cunning reading and typing abilities.

I work the angles like, off the cushion in the sidepocket
Electrifying like a live socket
-Dilated Peoples f/ A.G., Defari, & Xzibit, "Rework the Angles 12"

Visibility is a Virtue

"1st Annual Peace Walk 4 Anna" (Analicia Perry) will take place Saturday at 3:00 PM. The exact location of the walk's start was not disclosed, just that people would be leaving from Mission Hill. The walk will end at Washington Park in Roxbury around 4pm, where there will be a free cookout. The organizers suggest that all participants wear a white tee shirt. And if you didn't know, these two dudes below are being sought in connection with her July 22nd murder.

Cause systematically they gettin greedier and greedier

Project Hip-Hop had its end of the summer event this evening and the youth did their thing. There was a mini conference of sorts where various groups of them faciliated discussion on a range of important local issues. The topics include violence in hip-hop (breaking down juelz), media stereotypes (of black women), knowledge (the hip hop element), cipher (freestyling), and street memorials (what shoudl be done about them). It was great to see some of the same cats who earlier this summer were still a bit rough around the edges really stand out as young leaders. It was a beautiful thing. Parents and others came through to engage in the dialogue which proved to be a productive way to cap this summer's programming and head into the school year with a strong crew who seem eager to make their mark across the city.

In one of the sessions, it was brought up that a lot of the true responsibility for the violence belongs in the laps of the OGs not doing enough to steer young cats in the right direction. Just like how former banger end sup on Oprah only after they seen seom seriously ill stuff go down or almost lost their own lives, many older folks tend to follow the age-old adage that cats have to experience and learn from their mistakes. But the only problem with that is that some of the mistake are costly; life-costing. Some serious building must be done. Hopefully, some of the Black Man plans we got in the works will help a little bit to redeem the integrity that befits brothers out there doing their thing. We can only hope.

...no matter what we say our religion is
whether it's Islam, Christianity
Juddaism, Buddha-ism, Old School-ism or New School-ism
If we're not schooling the youth WITH wisdom
then the sins of the father will visit the children
And that's not keepin it real...
that's keepin it -- WRONG
-Gangstarr, Robbin Hood Theory

the arrogance of power

with his uncanny raspiness, harry belafonte continues to marvel.

the latest spike lee joint is a documentary on hurricane katrina and in subtle fashion, a beautiful story is woven together via interviews, video footage, and still images that capture the human spirit inherent amid the chaos, misery, destruction, and perseverance that embodied that American tragedy.

but those words - the arrogance of power - are still ringing loudly in my ears.

and i ain't even see the second half of the movie yet.

yet, those three words... i can't even piece together a coherent post to really explore the emotions that were evoked when i heard him say it.

but damn, son.

just think of the context. historically. currently. globally. racially. economically.

mind blowing. kinda like one of those essays where the last paragraph kinda just sums up everything and it would have been fine if all else had been stripped out. sometimes the bare bones are more then enough to suffice.

i cannot even really give a review of it because that one quick clip just kinda summed up everything for me. although i will say that homegirl had me rolling when she was talking about being atthe airport and said, "i didn't even know who i was, and i wasn't gonna know who she was after I finished kicking her a$$." that was classic. but re-focusing....

this Phoenix article ends on an ill note: Even as 9/11 reminds us of what threatens us from without, Katrina reminds us of what undermines us from within.

by the way, where's Arsenio Hall when you need him? Things that really make you go hmmmm.

when we perform, it's just coffee shop chicks and white dudes

The anticipation arose as time froze
I stared off the stage with my eyes closed and dove
into the deep cosmos

he patiently gazed at the frayed hair follicles that cicumvented the curves of his face and dotted his jaw's landscape.

as he paced to and fro with an impatient bop he held the crinkled sheet of paper in his wavering hand.

neatly folded to a fourth of its original size, he occasionally froze in his place with abrupt jolts to his body that made it seem as though the air temperature had dropped 70 degrees in a split second.

and in that instant, those same eyes that shielded the world from within, darted across the words calmly scrawled on the page. devoid of divinity...cocked and aimed and sprayed...at a moment's notice.

hollow words without true meaning when taken individually. but the picture they painted collectively was a concise story that wove many strands into one singular theme.

and with that, his pursed lips continued their slow and hushed reiteration of those very same words.

in the bathroom. on the sidewalk. in the truck. on storrw drive. in harvard square. at the atm. in the basement corner spot next to the speaker and behind the bassist. between bites of sweet potatoe fries and appluase for the slam and featured poets.

until it was his turn to take the stage.

and he reluctantly rose with determined hesitation as the emcee announced, "next up on the open mic...POPS"

...and then he froze up on stage and fuqed up his first time trying to perform without reading from a piece of paper. oh well. back to doing some more back pocket poetry. this memorization shT is for the birds.

Hip-Hop, you the love of my life
-The Roots and Common, "Act Too"

we all got a little bit of nerd in us

some people are just bonafide nerds and that is just fine. ain't nothing wrong with it.

but some folks are just straight up geeks.

there are sneaker nerds, sci-fi nerds, poetry nerds, handbag nerds, basketball nerds, chinese food nerds, ipod nerds, movie nerds, and car nerds.

my personal vices?
hip-hop, technology, basketball, and chicken.

but i'll be damned if all the nerds didn't converge at movie theaters across the country this weekend to see SoaP.

that shT was comedy. nerds in all their glory. the movie was whatever. It'll make a profit on the strength of the sheer hilarity of the concept. As a matter of fact, if it had a different name, it wouldn't have been as bad, but then it wouldn't have generated as much hype. alas, the trade-offs of brand identity.

you got any nerd in you?

the artist must elect to fight for freedom or slavery

The Foundation Movement had asked if I could write a review of their latest album and I agreed some time ago, but never got to bang it out full throttle amidst this busy summer. But after finally cranking out something ready to read, I cam across the following. And I know going into this post that I'm on that slippery spchrist slope of BS blogging, but my man Davey D had this on his site and I found it very interesting. Definitely something to let marinate for a bit, but thought-provoking nonetheless. The balance it srikes with the previous post is stark like a mutha.

Music With A Meaning

Wise men speak because they have something to say.
Fools because they have to say something.

It should come as no surprise that one of the hardest-working crews in the Boston hip-hop scene dropped a greatest hits album capable of leaving listeners speechless. The Foundation Movement is literally that; two emcees and a DJ with a worldwide fanbase, a firm understanding of local realities, and global sensibilities. Their music is a mixture of passion, purpose, justice, and empowerment. Their scope goes beyond Boston's borders and the confines of New England blizzards.

Eroc, Optimus, and DJ El are three young men who rhyme and make music with a determined frenzy in their lyrics and a pulsing beat in their boom-bap their is singularly unique. Over the last three years, they have amassed a budding grassroots following and street movement on the strength of their EP, The Foundation, and the street mixtape, UnReleased Classics. Yet, it is with the arrival of Greatest Hits, their debut full-length album, that we get to hear their full range of talent and taste the collection of varied cultural influences that have colored their life's perspectives.

Amazing Grace, How Sweet The Sound
Through The Storm, You Never Let Me Down
Because of My Faith, I Walk On Solid Ground
I Once Was Lost, But Now I'm Found

Far from a hodgepodge of irrelevant words that rhyme and beats that bang, Greatest Hits is a storybook album that pushes the envelope of what hip-hop music is, is not, and can be. It is organic. It is not watered-down. It is street. It is not dumbed-down. It is real. It is not formulaic. It is conscious. It is not wack.

With eighteen tracks, Greatest Hits is sure to leave listeners' appetites fully whetted with a variety of beats, instrumentals, and spoken word pieces that paint the world with many brushes, but result in a world-class musical mural that is beautiful, progressive, and dope. There are several tracks that stand out, included among them are Movement, which features legendary Boston veteran Edo G as he teams with The Foundation to drop gems. This Is Life is a soulful song with reknowned poetess/songtress Iyeoka Okoawo, while in A Prayer For Mami, we bear witness to Eroc dedicating a spoken word poem to his mother with heartfelt conviction. Other notable tracks that are sure to end up on your MP3 player's playlist are Truth (Amazing Grace), Not Like All The Others, and Durak (Whare You At?). Each has its own sound distinct from the others, yet with the same Foundation Movement stamp that brings it all together.

The Foundation Movement has toured and traveled the world, yet when they get in the studio, the results are exceptionally hard-hitting and thoroughly fly. For those who have yet to witness them perform live, playing this album loud in your vehicle or living room is the closest thing you can get to experiencing. And it does its job. Greatest Hits also features a host of talented producers and artists who collaborated on the project; Lee Wilson, Dead Prez, Kelley Nicole, Soulfege, Shana Turner, Lady Enchantress, Bambuu, Omen510, Upryz, Nelly ProTools, Neomatrix, DJ Liphted, Francis Phan, and Filthy Funk. Their contributions helped to cement this album in the annals of good music with a message that made its mark without sacrificing its integrity. And that, my friend, is what hip-hop is all about.

When The Rainbow Is Enough

I ended up attending a real good, free show last night at Roxbury Community College. A friend's daughter was in a 4-week theater camp, The Summer Arts Institute, for young girls and they staged their end-of-the-summer performance to a rousing applause. It featured both monologues, dance interludes, duet acting, and scripted readings. The young ladies were actresses, narrators, dancers, set designers, stage directors, and lighting experts. The show featured selections from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Ntozake Shange's For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide, and Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird among other original and student-produced works. Unfortunately, somebody got sick and didn't wuite make it to the restroom before vomiting on the steps. Oh well. We all take an L every now and then.

if we can make it to the corner bodega we can make it anywhere

a long, arduous week comes to a close. the entrepreneurship program was an outstanding success! there are several thank you cards and letters that I will need to get out this coming week to all of the peoples who helped out in some way. definitely a good look for what we're trying to do to change the game. the most intriguing part of all of this was that the students group consisted of a majority of Black males. in actuality, there were only two females. usually, with all the engineering and technology stuff I do, there are very few young ladies. but this time, it actually was very pleasing to see so many of my younger brothers in attendance. it a wonder that some kid who are truly young seem the most mature, while some of the older ones you can tell are already adrift in their thoughts. we had some really great business ideas, several of which may result in some real work being done very soon. all in all, a good time was had by all and i think/hope they enjoyed themselves. i left them with some heartfelt partings words to let them know that although they still didn't know me all that well, I had their backs. I definitely know hearing stuff like that goes a long way in a young Black man's development. As long as they belive in their own visions and make the most of the energy, resources, and heart, they can start dreaming and make them a reality. (but on a side note, those muthafuqas wore me the hell out!)

Escape through rhythms in search of peace and wisdom

Somedays I take the L to gel with the real world
Got on at 87th, stopped by this little girl
She recited raps, I forgot where they was from
In 'em, she was saying how she made brothers cum
I start thinking, how many souls hip-hop has affected
How many dead folks this art resurrected
How many nations this culture connected
Who am I to judge one's perspective?

So I was sitting up in Uphams House of Pizza tonight building with some peoples brainstorming some alternative youth engagement initiatives. I was more of the outsider looking in because they were the ones with all the years of knowledge and experience. But it's definitely been a learning process recently.

So anyways, there were these two girls sitting up front. Both of them had young children in strollers. I noticed them when they came in but didn't really pay to much attention. They had orderde food and were waiting for their order while they talked & chirped to each other and to whoever was on the other end of the cell phone as the kids just kinda chilled out.

But I swear it was like slow motion when two more young sisters walked in and joined them, both pushing their own blue stroller. And in an instant, I said WTF to myself in a muffled wiff of both bewilderment and disbelief. This can't be life. It was as though I were watching a competition amongst them. I gave a look to the crew and someone else remarked that it was an eerie scene as though they were all guys and the strollers were their tricked-out whips. All four of them, eating pizza at the sub shop, chirping mad loud on their cells, while the kids all were sitting in the strollers with outstretched arms hoping they'd get lifted up.

Now I don't bring this up to bash the young ladies, but I am confident that none of them was more than 20 years of age. Do you. I recently earned a newfound respect for the art of not bashing or talking about anyone with malice. A brother who I think is a local hero dropped that gem on me a few weeks ago and it's been marinating in my mind ever since. But on the reals, it's bigger than youth violence. It's bigger than hip-hop. The problems thata ll communities face, not just the Black, Latino, West Indian, and Cape Verdeans one is a very real deal matter that is a mixture of all of the former melting pot that is the land of the free and home of the brave. But too many of those with the most potential are seemingly reluctant or afraid to attain their freedom - mentally, physically, and spiritually. So like I told this week's students; Start Dreaming.

Touch you in the mind like virgins on all fours

Flavor to the very last morsel
I don't force [it], shT comes natural
-Akrobatik

I had the extreme pleasure the last two nights of being thoroughly entertained and immersed in a sea of good music and it was so intoxicating that the feeling has me eerily fiending for more in a hazy daze in the middle of the night. The Roots came to town to do a show Monday night featuring Talib Kweli as a guest. Man....words cannot convey how good that show truly was. Kweli straight smashed shT. And he brought local hero Akrobatik on stage to an huge response and he killed it. The legendary Roots Crew lived up to their name as they always do. But this time was on some next shT. I remember one outdoor they did, but I don't recall being this open afterwards. It literally has left me almost speechless.

Yes, almost. Gotta wake up early again in the morning to hold it down for the shorties under my watch this week. They are learning all about entrepreneurship and what it take to take their interest from idea to concept to plan to business. With two days under our belt, now we get to do some field trips and have them hear from other folks. Some of them are further along than others, but they are a good group and have been fairly attentive and focused so far. But I'm noticing they have really taken quite a liking to the GarageBand software app. So I'm thinking I may have to take that signal and try and incorporate that into some kind of program during the school year.

ask yourself the same question

I am not: a full-time a$$hole, a pushover, a pawn
I hurt: people's feelings when I temporarily become an a$$hole
I think: 24/7, constantly, consistently, of crazy shT
I hate: the absence of common sense, lazy/complacent muthafuqas, wack shT
I cry: when no one is around, involuntarily
I care: about my family and future
I feel alone: sometimes in a crowd
I listen: to those i trust, with a critical ear
I hide: my feelings, my fears
I drive: the blue NSBE Disco truck
I sing: in the truck
I dance: when the music isn't wack
I write: for myself, when inspired
I breathe: deeply to live
I miss: having no responsibilities, summers on Edisto Island
I say: what i want, what i mean
I feel: afraid i won't end up making an impact in the world so i hustle to make that a reality by keeping busy
I succeed: at being resourceful
I fail: at sticking to the script
I dream: big for myself and those i care about
I sleep: a few hours a week
I wonder: where my life's journey will take me, what my obituary will say
I want: the world
I worry: i won't be happy
I give: my all
I fight: for freedom, justice, equity
I wait: too long to share what i hold dearest
I stay: calm, hustling
I am: somebody

And I can get stupid just by droppin science
-Craig G & Marly Marl

i know you wanna enter, but i can't let you in

my mindstate's the madness
i'm gone with the wind


so much on my mind that I just can't recline...it's been a busy August. Got some calls and shout-outs on the bday and spent some chill time with some real chill peoples. the whole hip hop week stuff has wrapped up for the most part.

the hip hop reconstruction conference was a good look. mad youth came through. thought it was definitely chaotic, i felt everything fell into place as best it could given the logistics and other assorted details.

the concert...man....the concert was a blast. all the local acts did their thing, although i'm mad letia larok didn't perform misunderstood. and my man DL had to be flexible and rock without sound, just a mic and lyricall helping him out with some beat-boxing. he was heated afterwards, but i let him know that his set was one of the highlights. cl smooth did his thing although he came off abit too arrogant, but it's whatever. and rakim, although he showed up mad late, rocked the crowd like greatest rapper of all time should.

but maybe i am too much of an opptimist, because there's all kinds of disgruntled folks talking about this and that. it's whatever. in the end, it's about more than the music. more than egos. there's a much, much larger meaning. plus, i can think back to the very instant when we got the phone call in upstate ney york (rome to be exact) informing us that Trouble T-Roy had passed away. if you know anything about me, then you know what runs in my veins. well let's just say, it's like we all had lost a brother. Heavy D was like family thrice removed, but we used to dance, have parties, and do the damn thing like music was our 9-to-5. anyways, someone mentioned that the classic track TROY was one of their top five songs of all time and I'll be damned if I didn't want to say the exact same thing. Like I've said before, there's something about hip-hop that moves me, inspires me to do certain things, go in certain directions. That song held so much meaning to me through the years. So to see CL perform it live was like an honor. I can finally die happy now.

but not too fast. that true, true happiness is still somewhat elusive. i find myself still avoiding certain phone calls and emails simply because I know what I like. So I'll just try and max out these next few weeks before the midget returns and enjoy myself as much as I can. maybe love will come and find me. cuz i ain't looking. i'm all set, son. maybe take in a few concerts, plays, games, etc. maybe even an out-of-state field trip or two. lemme holla at priceline.

it started as a pasttime to make time pass

i got asked a few times if i felt older or wiser. no, just another day went by. hip hop week is upon us. that's not even the real name of it, but it's what i'm calling it. critical breakdown came back in full force tuesday night with some serious heat; literally. the AC broke down earlier in the afternoon, so one big fan had to hold us all down. but it was all good. everyone came out for a good cause and the various artists all held it down on the stage. the best performances hands down were by Project Move and The Foundation. Those two groups are really repping it and speaking truth to power.

like yo, that could be me. like yo, that could be me. like yo, that could be me.

i played softball for the first time in a good 10 years. man did i suck. i popped out on the 1st pitch. that followed with a walk, a strikeout, and a single. so yes, i did get one hit and even rounded the ases for a run. in centerfield, that story is a little bleaker. i let two hits fly by me. i misjudged on and ran too far up only to have it sail overhead by inches. and the 2nd was short, but my underhanded charge came up short. oh well. it felt good to finally get back out there. i was balling at wahington park until 10:30pm monday night and had no idea i'd end up in the outfield two days later. so i'm liking that variety. so anyways, back to hip-hop. the conference and concert are fast approaching. plus, it's hot as a mutha out there. here's to good wishes that all goes well.

you would think

that techies would know how to create a PowerPoint presentation that does not look lik it was thrown together by a 7th grader. scratch that. the 7th grader's might actually look better. if you have 3 paragraphs worth of bullet points on one slide, something is wrong, homie.