great new albums to bump

these guys were put on to me by cousins Corey and Wes separately, but simultaneously. They are in the same feel as Clipse, but a tad more gritty. I dig it. The primarily percussion tracks, the sick flows, and the style of the group is enough for me to purchase this first album, but not enough to necessarily see it materialize into a bomb ass sophomore debut.



this guy here is no secret to those that listen to radio. but alas, for those in NY who survive off of ipods and the new stuff they play in the club/lounges, this may be a new thing. so, arguably, this may just be new to me. nevertheless, his albun, JUST dropped, and is not only worth the sample listen on itunes, but the purchase might have to be given to this cat as well.

and all of this coming from a guy that doesn't even BUY cds.

chris cullen - billy jean

this guy is awesome. the CD version is also good, with a slightly longer (and slightly better) guitar solo towards the end. enjoy.

so what am i to believe?

over the years, i have come to believe and trust in a certain script for my life. and that if i only but had faith in the Creator and writer of that script, then that which was best for me would unfold itself and manifest in my life as the path for me to follow. this concept has worked pretty well for me up to this point. and even now, i know i still have that faith. however, as it was 3 years ago, and as it was 4 years before that, i cannot escape a feeling of anxiety about where my path is going. this is not to be confused with fear; no, fear would be my reluctance to make these dynamic moves and changes in my life. that is not, nor has it ever really been the case, because i am confident in the moves that have to be made. there is no going back once the decision to make them has been made. it can be altered, sure. it can even be changed. but there is no going backwards. there is no reversal of a thought process. it notion has been put into the cosmos and as such, the winds have blown and the tides have turn.

is it not that simple?

is it not enough to simply accept the fact that decisions are direct results of our own thought processes, however large or minuscule? and as such, are our actions not direct results of those decisions? therefore, my initial thought process to follow the aforementioned script placed on my heart by the Creator is thereby a decision, and results in action regardless of how instant or gradual that action may be.


which brings me to my conundrum. i have realized that this is as simple of a idea as it isn't. following one's script, or destiny (as some would put it), takes focus, discipline, order, and patience. all of which is very hard to come by when you're surrounded by excitement regarding everything contrary to them. our society doesn't seem to be built for such facets of mentality. our nation doesn't seem to be equipped with the tools necessary for these elements of life to be cultivated and refined. our hype, as a nation, is often geared towards the appraisal of sex, drugs, violence, money, fashion, and any other superficial or materialistic entity that captures the attention of masses. it must always be bigger, stronger, faster, brighter, newer, sexier, and more profitable than the last.

this is not new, nor does it look like it will ever change. my conundrum is not based on this notion, but rather how i play into it. am i to imagine myself above said hype. am i not to subscribe to the energy of our society and its trends for the sake of my own self-discovery and scripted journey? and if i am to indulge, how much is too much? how far do i go before i'm in too deep? before i abandon my quest for self-actualization and focus primarily on the artificial value of the American priority system?? how long do i subscribe until the hollowness becomes that in which i find relative meaning?


am i to believe that balance can be maintained between finding the meaning of my life and subscribing to the mainstream of our culture? am i to believe that there is no separation of the two, but that they are but opposite sides of the same reality? or am i to choose?

am i to believe that i even have a choice?

narrative voice gym

so, i have found that what my professor told me 5 years ago is true. to be a great writer, you have to do three things on a consistent basis. you must a) write, everyday; b) read, everyday; and c) live, everyday. it's a craft that has to be honed and sharpened. it's something that has to be practiced.

saying all that to say that, i haven't been reading. and i notice my narrative voice only when i've been reading heavy. it's like, once i put the book down, i still hear my voice narrating my day in my head. it makes writing all the easier when i can let the words flow from my brain to my fingertips.

so, i picked some stuff up. this is what i'm into right now.

The Watchmen - a graphic novel actually. Many claim it to be one of the best graphic novels ever written, if not the best. It's kinda like the Incredibles, or Heroes, but much darker and more politically conscious with the setting and timeframe within world events and historical references. so far its good stuff.













i dunno. as of now i'm more into The Watchmen. i've only read the first chapter of The Face. but that first chapter is pretty good. it's about a hollywood star that is being stalked and threatened by some lunatic. but supposedly it gets far more bizarre and crazy as the story continues, so we'll see how it plays out.










Ultimately, the goal here is to work out my narrative voice. to really flex the muscles of brain to the point where conveying thoughts is second nature, and where the quality of those thoughts becomes the main priority. let's get it going.

Eroding Night: The Assassin

"I've gotta break outta this poisoned prisoned mentality,
I baffle me, because I know these bitches is after me,
Yet instead of reclusive, I go for anti-afraid,
And get these motha-fuckas back when I come back from my grave..."

Even now, with this government-issued sniper rifle aimed at his neck, I can recall the first time I heard his lyrics. Ralph, my older cousin, let me borrow his mixtape before he even got mainstream. I had to listen to it on the headphones so my parents couldn't hear. But even then, over time, it would be the only thing they'd hear blasting from my bedroom. I tried to rap like him, fall into his shadow in hopes that he'd catch me one day. I dreamed of opening for one of his shows. Don't get me wrong, I had my own style and all, but it was his passion that I aimed to mimic. He believed every word he said. Every line he spit on the mic came directly from the depths of his soul and particle of his being. My dream of following him was short-lived though, as the government started putting tighter wraps on public expression.

"...Fuck a W-2, I gotta pay for this food,
I gotta pay for this heat, and gotta pay when its due,
I gotta a baby and a lady that depend on me too,
I don't depend on them fools, I only get what I'm due..."

My dad told me that artists used to express themselves all the time in his day. Not only expressing themselves for themselves though, but for the people. They took messages for the masses and broadcast them over the airwaves...even performing them live to the masses themselves. People didn't used to have to sneak around to listen to them, or meet privately to enjoy the sounds. According to my dad, there were countless musicians that vied for just the chance to be heard, to make their mark on history. But now, after the ban, there's only Eroding Night, or rather, what's left of them, their lead rapper, Righteous.

"...And I swear by every hair of my son's firstborn,
I'll never fall off, because God put me on,
kicked the knowledge to me straight and told me 'Righteous, Hold Strong'
Cuz there is someone out there listening that needs to feel this song
And to that one, I hope you get it,
To the two, I hope you share it,
To the three, I pray you feel it, Because on my life I bear it,
To the people that believe it and the mighty that can see it,
Come together as a people, and together we'll defeat it..."

So my options became limited. But I became tough as I grew older and found that I had a talent for fighting. Then I discovered that it was less of a talent, and more of a lack of consideration for human suffering. I quickly fell into the cracks of the Alleyways, becoming one of the most efficient killers money could buy. Not to brag. At first, it was petty, women going after their cheating husbands, corporate jerkoffs getting rid of some asswipe standing in the way of their money. Then I would start getting jobs from from random middle-men sending me cross-country and overseas. They jobs started becoming more tedious, and difficult due to heightened levels of security. All in all though, I never thought it'd bring me here.

With my finger resting on the trigger of this light, superbly crafted rifle, I watch Righteous through the scope of the gun. The underground concerts were gaining ground, and everyone in the streets knew about them. I keel telling myself that it's partly his fault, but, I know that that's not true. And even if I put the gun down now, they'll only find someone else. Someone that will kill this man with much less poise and candor. With no dignity. With no respect for who this man is. My phone rings.

"Hello. Yeah. Here. 1 minute. Less. Lighting problems. Fine."

I should have killed him 15 minutes ago. But I figured I'd let him finish the set.

"...and when my light's out, remember me,
don't cry, remember me,
but still, more than me, keep the message in your memory,
these streets are yours, have been, and will forever be,
keep love in your heart, and your mind..."

"...on the peace." I whisper. Cutting him short in just enough poetic fashion for it to be memorable. The venue is not large, so the crowd hears the shot. But it takes everyone a little under ten seconds to realize what is happening. I've taken the ten seconds to drop the rifle and walk away. No prints. One bullet. Casing in my pocket.

I join the others running outside for safety. Some are crying. Others are furious. I am both. I am paid. I am the tool of destruction and the calamity in the midst of peace. I am a product of my environment and the by-product of my society. This will change everything. This will be what was always necessary. This is what I've told myself to survive.

brain tattoo

i was daydreaming.

i was...on a bed, with a woman. i was laying down half-asleep. she was awake, sitting up in the bed. i was naked, but covered by the white bedsheets. she was loosely holding them over her bare breast. she leaned over a bit to inspect a tattoo on my back. and then she let her finger glide over another tattoo on my arm. she climbed closer to my body and removed the cover. she brought her head close to my my shoulder-blade as she attempted to read what i had inked across my neck. softly, but not in a whisper, she said, "what does this one mean?" i wasn't sure whether or not she was speaking to herself, or if she knew i was awake, though, i suppose it doesn't really matter. i didn't answer. and as she continued to examine my bare body, and analyze my inked flesh, my daydream started to end. the scene of us on that bed, in the covers, started to move further from my minds eye. myself still laying there, her still going over the images that intrigued her so.

coming out of the daydream however, i realized that i had tattoos. i had no art etched into my torso, no quotes or figures inked into back, stomach, or chest. i have nothing so much as a piercing, or a crazy birthmark. so, what is there to pick apart? when lying there in bed, and she leans over to learn me in my sleep, or to analyze what is significant in my life, or to grasp what it is i give a damn about...what is there? what do i have to show her?

so...i tatted my brain. and if she wants to learn me in the middle of the night, she's gonna have to pick that. because in truth, that's all i have. no one will be able to tell what i'm about, or where i'm from, or what i would die for, or what it is i live for, without picking apart my brain. analyze what is etched there. inspect the ink in the middle of my cerebellum. evaluate my thoughts as they are portrayed through my actions.

is all i'm saying.

adam smith was wrong

this is an awesome scene for those that remember it. and as basic as we think it might be, or as common of a notion as one might believe it to be, the fact is that many men play by the "adam smith" concept - every man for himself. this simply does not work, as demonstrated in the video below. teamwork i necessary and sacrifices must be made. thoughts?