If you lack the will to step up then please chill

When I bug out you bound to get snuffed out for fronting
Busy deceiving, achieving nothing

If only I could keep re-using the so much on my mind that I can't recline refrain, life would that much easier. It's been a tough week, fam. Even amidst good cheer and decent daily happenings, I sometimes find myself end up looking back on the past week like what the hell was that about.

It kind of sneaked up on me and kept a low profile until ready to strike. And then - BLAOHW! I caught a cold one on the chin.

On one hand, I got a lot accomplished and conversely, I didn't really do a damn thing this week. Who knows. What I do know is that innate contradictions of mankind have always puzzled me. Naturally, I have my own myriad array of paradoxes and peculiar habits that make me, me. Plus, I have some likes, loves, and lusts, that are definitely in complete contrast to some of my beliefs, values, morals, and sensibilities.

Yet, I like my vices. I bet we all do to some extent. But sometimes, buttons get pushed beyond acceptable terrain.

So recline like a passenger seat Son, relax
As I take you to the max, homeboy you faking jax

Take, for instance, the album cover for Termanology latest mix CD. Yes, you are an ill lyricist. A vivid story-teller. A multisyllabic wordsmith who can concoct some very clever rhyme schemes to match all kinds of beats. Yet, I cannot keep ignoring the gun rap and giving it a pass. I once attended a banquet at the Four Season downtown where Al Sharpton said something akin to the tune of "you can't keep saying you are reflecting reality if that is not your everyday ritual. And if so, also talk about the crust i your eyes and the steps you take to brush your teeth."

Ok, so maybe I embellished the quote a bit but you should get the gist of what I am saying. Stop fronting. And I mean this many ways. There are plenty of a$$hole criminals doing bad, busting their shT, and generally up to no good on a daily basis. Yet, even they have a quote-unquote regular life, where they buy food, play video games, and take a shT just like you and I.

And then there are those who do not tote their (insert gun analog here) on the daily, yet still find it to be a display of their cunning wit when they make-up a new word and accompanying metaphor for shooting someone.

So let's go back to mister packing the mac. With two recent shootings in my city that literally occurred across the street from schools, I see it as unconscionable for this album cover to not only show him toting some steel, but to be hovering over a sprawled out body while he stands in the middle of the street in front of a School Crossing marker. I do think it is a great cover design, yet you be the judge. I usually get annoyed when I read a journalist's misinformed diatribe against my music. They usually miss the point. But there are times when not only do they do get it right, but the hip-hop community also has to flush its own toilet and check itself from within. This is my small part.



You never succeed or progress
Searching for peace through material objects
You go to extremes in the process
Accuse others, when it's you showing your true colors
Busy selling your dreams, but all your cream
Contributes to your lack of self-esteem
-INI & Pete Rock, "Fakin Jax"

Vote For Carlos

Pretty self-explanatory. Son is about to step into a new world tonight and here are my best wishes on a fun-filled journey of discover, distress, surprises, stress, reflection, adversity, and introspection.

All the Ts have been crossed and Is dotted. Well, as many as possible. The temporary website is up and running. Now, we just move forward with a little anxiety, a little prayer, a little apprehension, and a lot of love for the people who need reppin'.

It all officially pops off tonight with a fundraiser / friendraiser event at All Nite Cafe (DJ Saki's juice bar) in Grove Hall.

It's about time I made myself useful instead of resting on my laurels letting life pass my by. Big Bird is back. Word.

January 17, 2003 Thoughts

On the shoulders of yesterday
I stand tall
I tried to play ball
But figured I'd go to college
On a Scholarship for knowledge
The aim was to clock some dollars
While the brothers that bothered our balance
Followed the steady trail of jail and no bail
Did the system fail?
Or did we just flunk the fuq out?

The glimmers of hope provoke those without dollars to dream

Soul on ice death threats given by clowns
I guess living is prison when you live around clowns
I'm hexed cursed worse
I been blessed first
-Nas, "Book Rhymes"

Nasir Jones said it best; "I wish I took more time to write in my book of rhymes." But, in the meantime, peep these 76 smart technology solutions and suggestions.
And then grab some popcorn and watch this throwback video. HMC mentioned the Coulter homegirl the other day and I happened to come across this upon checking out more about her. Straight gut-wrenching comedy. Everybody hates Chris, right?

I'll take prison for $200, Alex

Madea is mad funny. The line from Madea's Family Reunion when the judge offered the option of either being a prison mother of a foster mother came to me when I started to think about my family. I thought back upon all of the good times over many decades that we have shared. From family reunions, weddings, baby showers, and graduations to funerals, baptisms, random trips, and anniversaries; we get it poppin.

She don't know about us.
We Baptist.
We tear this place up.
-Joe

And not only is there just the immediate family, but because we did not let petty issues get in the way, I am proud to say I am in touch and close with relatives many generations and iterations removed. At one point, there was even a large contingent of foster children who were a part of the family as well. And several of them are still around and down. And thus I am led to reflect on the experiences and conversations of my youth as I stared upwards at those bold teens with some much on their hearts and minds, yet meandering through the system.

I think about whatever became of Eric, whom I naturally took a liking to because we shared the same name and he was dark-skinned like me (ahem) with a flattop to match. I remember he had a younger sister who went to my school and I always wondered how and why he was with our family and not his.

I think about Antwain and how he used to cut up the rug with his dancing skills. I remember his stay as a good one, but I also recall hearing rumors of his growth into a man and the alternative route he chose. I wonder if he is still on Nino Brown status or if the game changed him.

I wonder about the many boys who just were not trying to hear my grandfather's mouth and ran away shortly after arriving to Edisto Island. I remember looking out the porch one dreary day when one of them simply bolted through the back door and thumbed-it back to Chucktown.

I think back to the mid-eighties and how Marvin and Jeff used to be the illest DJs in town. How we used to live arcoss the street from the community center and would simply start a human caravan hauling milk crates of records across Highway 174 to setup for whatever wedding reception was taking place that weekend. I been told you, homie. I am hip-hop. (wink)

I think about Nathan and how he was an aspiring boxer. And how we once told me about my walk and how to distinguish myself.

I think about Hurricane Hugo and how everyone piled up in the big blue van and met us in Summerville at the high-school-turned-shelter.

I think about Greg and Stacy and the larger-than-life roles they took on as they came to symbolize the promise of the system. And how the Jap nickname took on its own lifeform. And then the car accident that nearly took Greg's life the same night the Harlem Globetrotters came to town.

I think about how those experiences helped to mold a small portion of how I am and what I represent. Of why I feel I can at least partially empathize with both sides of the fence; those stuck in the foster care system with no hope for a brighter tomorrow. For them, I scan through the mental images of my pre-teens and all of the things to which I had been exposed by at-rick youth before the term became the cool thing to say. For the families with not much to offer on the surface, yet still willing to take in youth with troubled pasts (as opposed to troubled youth - word arrangement does matter) and allow them to become a part of their families just because.

Love is many things.
It's varied.
One thing it is not and can never be is unsure.
-Maya Angelou

Take that bass out your voice you talk to me in treble

This grassrooted curriculum, got me sprung like twisted ankles
Experience is missable, so I approach it from all angles

chaos. a word with mixed meanings and hidden undertones. it can be many things. it could by one. it could be none. chaos begets chaos.

Chaos is as state of. an aura of. a feeling of. a lack of. a sense of.

Confusion
anarcHy
bedlAm
vOlatility
diSorder

it is a physical, mental, emotional, physiological, psychological, and spiritual roller coaster of unpredictability and uncertainty.

The cadence off and on like the motion of Tai Chi

for example, in march of 2007, we have examples of ....

teens making toddlers smoke trees...

6th graders having sex in class...

fathers making their sons stab their mothers...

and the rich getting richer...and 14 of the world's 946 billionaires are right here in the Bay State.

If you don't know by now, let me acquaint you with my steez

guetamala can flip the script and make it easier to fire corrupt cops, yet we are still stuck on stupid...

right here in our own backyard (New Bedford, MA), US immigration rules have reared their ugly side and it is grotesquely hideous, cold, and nauseating. i just cannot fathom how money can be justifiably spent to fly people to Texas without being able to contact their families, etc. It is simply unconscionable to me to raid factories when it is clear that all the anti-immigrant sentiment is mostly directed at the latin americans who are here illegally, but not the Europeans, namely Irish, who are here in large numbers as well. Do Cuba and Haiti sound familiar?

I got $5 on it that Bush will not be making any surprise visits anywhere while he his in South America, namely Venezuela. Him and Chavez will be dapping up anytime soon. But, man, you gotta love the protesters. Ain't nothing like a fighting spirit to get you fired up.

Yeah, we your rhyme sayers
who lead you like a beacon of light, out of the chaos
Cutting down overzealous players who stare
when the winners of the game walk in well prepared
climbing the stairways
to heaven while you scared of the people living under-
-ground heard the sound of the clap
made you wonder
If it was a gun, the crowd, or some thunder
All of that was out my window when I was younger
-Talib Kweli & Bahamadia, "Chaos"

When you get that notion, put your backfield in motion

The first thing I thought of when I saw this Nike add was that Da Butt joint by E.U. from back in the day. Spike Lee directed the video and many a wedding reception in my youth was spent laughing and dancing hysterically to that song.

[Insert Name Here] got a bugg ole butt! Oh Yeah!



But Nike has been on a real come-up lately. For starters, they have the whole custom kick game on lock-down. And now they are taking the urban edge theme and putting it into overdrive. The most recent commercial, 2nd Coming, which is an introduction to the latest installment of the Air Force line features a dope, slow beat conjured up by Just Blaze with Juelz Santana wobbling over the riffs. It is a seriously ill joint; I can picture a slow b-boy-bop down the block in some unlaced Tims. Plus, peep this behind-the-scenes snippet of the recording process and how hyped the composer gets towards the end to perfect the sound. And, of course, nowadays no one is safe from a mash-up. The Kobe ones did it for me. They won't be too hard to find.

light a cigar in the corridor of the crib

Some things are forever, some things are not
It's the things we remember that gave the world shock

some things just cannot stray from memory. like sweet potatoes and red rice. chicken and waffles for breakfast. crab cracks and kool-aid. chicken wings and duck sauce.

some things are better off left repressed so you can move forward instead of backwards.
like lima beans and pork chops. liver and onions. sunny delight and syrup sandwiches. and white rice...daily.

i am inclined to lament the fact that i have not had a regularly-scheduled home cooked meal in over a decade. but instead, i got me some new shiny pots and pans. so i think i'm gonna rock out with my cock out and reminisce over the dishes i used to be able to prepare and try to do some time traveling like that old show, Quantum Leap.

I used to make a mean macaroni and cheese. and not that kraft ish. son was on some straight ronzoni and eggs and etc tip. i think i still got it. we'll see though. i find myself casually trying to eat a little more healthier each passing week, yet splurging on some extremely unhealthy artery-clogging deliciousness by week's end. i am so glad i still play ball as much as i do (which ain't even that often). i'd be one fat bastard if i wasn't speed-walking up and down the court every week.

but back to food...

i've been dibbling and dabbling a little bit here and there. some baked chicken here. some tuna fish there. some broccoli rice here. some chiken noodle soup there. ain't no one to cook for anyway, so whatever. but i think i'll just add it to the experimentation list. that's the list of shT i would like to do, but probably won't do. you know, like climb a mountain, go bunjee jumping; shT like that. unless i really feel like it. which is more a matter of which way the wind is blowing than any other sort of lottery determined selection process aside from pulling something out of thin air.

i'm a dreamer
nostalgic is the state of mind
-Nas, "Can't Forget About You"

one fiyah. mo fiyah.

a mad old chant, but still mad fun. good times, fam. mad good times. i'm looking forward to seeing some of my extended family in a few weeks. looking forward to catching up of life's changes, up, and downs. breaking bread with folks who i once used to go half on a combination plate on and we'd split the eggroll. building with folks on an intellectual level sans the meat-market approach to networking that some people prefer to take. laying low for a few days in a sea of progressive black people making moves while staying grounded in reality. Ain't nothing like some good ole NSBE Luv.