Remember "Tip Drill"?

Pause.

Discuss.

Intuition is there even when my vision's impaired

Raul Midon. I would recommend listening first, then coming back to watch and listen.

P.S. Dood's blind. Don't know if he's counting 1's or 50's.

Damn right, I kiss my daddy

Does Baby know ur "single and ready to mingle" Wayne?

I read somewhere that "Weezy F. Baby" stands for "Weezy [effs] Baby." Sorry for the expletives ppl. I try to keep it PG-13, but there's only so much u can edit with these potty-mouth rappers (pause).

David Kenneth's True DC Stories

As a new contributor to You Hype? Sike Nah... I feel the need to hit u with one of the classics:

"So I'm downtown in DC last night, at this little spot called Eyebar. I didnt really expect too much taking a few things into consideration...

Its Tuesday.
Its a bar called Eyebar, which happens to be on I Street.
What are the chances of a bar, catchily named after its street, popping on a Tuesday.

But then again what were the chances of a plane hitting the Pentagon? Clearly anything goes in the nation's capitol. Regardless, after getting bounced from the VIP section by Miami Heat star Eddie Jones and his 4 goons, I could tell this wasn't a normal tuesday night happy hour. Upon hitting the second floor I saw more Heat players in one reserved section, and Roc-A-Fella artist/ Jim Jones' latest wedgie threat, Tru Life w/ entourage in the other.

First note. NBA listings couldnt be farther from the truth. (6'6" Jones was my height and 6'8" Dorell Wright was as tall as Chris)
Second note. If they look lame on the court, chances are their real-life persona isnt too far off. (Case in point, Antoine Walker)
Third note. Rappers are flesh & blood people, just like us, with equally thin skin and insecurites (Enter Tru Life...)

The cold-hard facts about Jay-Z's latest protege.
Tru Life's VIP was packed with 6 niggas as compared to Walker and Wright's 6 groupies
The entire entourage, including Life, were Roc-A-Wear'd out but made sure to keep their chains tucked
When the DJ played his new single which nobody seems to know, the floor cleared, as he snatched the mic and proceeded to spit his own adlibs

and the true highlight of the evening...

As the DJ teased the crowd with the opening sample from Jim Jones' "Ballin", one of Tru Life's entourage got a bit caught up and prematurely through up the Fadeaway... only to have it yanked down by the visibly bitter rapper. After which, the DJ assured him, "dont worry Tru, we got you" and played Jay-Z's "Brooklyn" freestyle to the same beat, much to his delight.

The moral of the story... professional athletes lie about their height and rappers are emotional."

Summer Soft

Today's the unofficial last day of my summer break. It really hurts on the inside. Like really. Oh well, put a heel on a gym shoe and get grown, Mr. Garr. I'll get over it.

Knocked Up deleted scene - Kuni Gone Wild

There isn't a word in the english language to describe how hilarious this is. If you haven't seen "Knocked Up" yet, ur lame.

Shalom.

Under my um-ber-ella... ella... ella...

decided to blow the dust off an old poem. read it. read into it. but don't read too much into it. and oh, it's long. ha.

Broken: a poem in parts

I. Clouds

my fist can’t break
through the paper bag of
my thoughts, tree rings leading
only to themselves. (what do my words make) since
this straw hat keeps the light
out of my eyes the heat
empties out of my head in ribbons that

tie knots in the air
there is work to be done

things to hold onto
blesséd gossamer threads
to stick to something, anything
strong enough to carry the weight
of my thin filament.


II. Do you love me

The question marks
my anxiety, establishes
the border between
that which is and cannot be
said without compromise
and fear held without conquest;
but oh, so lonely, with nothing
to say.


III. Rosebush

How peacefully do these waters fester
Held at bay by the strength of men
The hand of man immortalized in concrete slabs
And the city beneath that most mighty palm
Sifting nonchalance within itself
Unaware of the danger in a trickle.

And you, a buttress breeched, must hold back the ocean’s tide
In the face of the moon, must dam yourself unto yourself,
A broken spirit flooded into the chaos of equilibrium.


IV. Mourning Lovesickness

At first, I told myself
that it was my heart
sunken into my belly
that shook my stomach
every morning, dragging
me down to my knees
before this porcelain altar
to spill my guts.

I am lovesick,
me said, searching
the water for heart-chunks
among the morn’s vomit,
so sick of love
that I came head-bent
before a toilet as if in
daily ritual prayer
over some gestating sacrifice.

As the anger waned,
the pang in my belly grew,
each morning’s release making room
for divine intervention,
the sanctity found only in sin;

My knees buckled
to better carry the weight
I couldn’t stand.


V. Broken

Everything seemed to come
down in pieces. Even the rain
fell like glass: as if her soul had fallen
like a brick through some window
in heaven. She, with no umbrella
left, to wade sole-deep in a sea of piece
and fragment, shard and crumb.

Rain spilled from heaven’s floor like mop water,
in thick, heavy strings—yarn
that poked persistently at her dogged body
as though she were a needle. Drops reaching into her
stomach like a bullet. A slug, this bellied burden, whose growth bore
down and into her with each dribble of fallen cloud,
each fleeting dash of rain. She could not escape:
there were icy puddles in the pockets of her raincoat
that drowned her clenched, knotted hands.

Still, the clouds extinguished themselves above her,
bleeding drop by drop, resolute in their confusion
to empty as well as fill. Maybe standing
in the midst of it all,
she understood.

She, drenched and jeweled, beaded with rain,
baptizing the strange fruit of sorrow. Rainwater broke her
cheeks and crawled through the tracks of her
years.

Her eyes were dry,
now.

The writing on the wall

Leda, After the Swan
by Carl Phillips

Perhaps,
in the exaggerated grace
of his weight
settling,

the wings
raised, held in
strike-or-embrace
position,

I recognized
something more
than swan, I can't say.

There was just
this barely defined
shoulder, whose feathers
came away in my hands,

and the bit of world
left beyond it, coming down

to the heat-crippled field,

ravens the precise color of
sorrow in good light, neither
black nor blue, like fallen
stitches upon it,

and the hour forever,
it seemed, half-stepping
its way elsewhere--

then
everything, I
remember, began
happening more quickly.

Pause.

It's 3.5 minutes, but all u need to see is the first 30 seconds, pay specific attention at 22-25 seconds.

That is all.

Just bob your head like you get it

Click the album cover to download. Rap ambassador for the capital, fresh off the international tour with Mark Ronson (who just released his album Version state-side.) Long-awaited, but well worth it. I love hip hop.

The Burning Bush

Find it.

Bring down my blood pressure

What happens when u lock Kanye, Swizz Beats, and Drag-On (yes, Drag-On. That's not a typo) in a trailer with a video camera. (Can I get "No Homo" for $800, Alex?)

Same old song

"Rap has gradually degenerated from an art form into a ring tone. It's a hip catchphrase or a musical riff with a short shelf life. It has a novelty element that captures the listener's imagination, but it's not a song. It won't build a career. That's why we're seeing this backlash."

read the article.

bad hip hop raises my blood pressure. seriously.

P.S. I got 4 hours of Funkmaster Flex blacking out on the 4th with gutta 90's hip hop. Beautiful. Also, Flex played The Mad Rapper a couple weeks ago and publicly rebuffed the "stop snitchin'" movement as well as the state of hip hop. You know it's a problem when Flex is pissed.

Flex is You hype! Sike nah...'s first Hero of the Week.



And lastly, I un-DS'ed my Bobbito Air Force 1's today. ("un-DS": to wear for the first time.) Them thangs are beautiful. Perfect shoe for the summer.

Well whuddaya know

I have much more music than I actually listen to. Randomly, looking for another song, found this on my computer.
Project Pat - "I Choose You" http://www.zshare.net/audio/2575534b556e24/

sound familiar, don't it?

Spell iPhone, Mexican.

I found this picture of 5 grass cutters (with 7 iPhones) hilarious. Is this why they swam across the Rio Grande? Two drop 4-5 stacks on phones? Yes I'm racist. Yes I'm hating.


And while I'm hating, how bout something a lil more justified?

Here's the mayor of Philadelphia, John Street, waiting in line for an iPhone on Friday. He was 3rd in line and got there at 3:30am. Yes, 3:30 in the morning. Watching this, you wouldn't think that Philadelphia is the deadliest major city in the U.S. Or maybe you would. With leadership like this, no wonder the city's crumbling.

Needless to say, not too many ppl were happy when they discovered this. Watch this video of a tax-paying, city government employee, rip Mayor Street a new one.

http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/?rn=952695&cl=3202261&src=news

Oh the irony

http://www.sendspace.com/file/mnr08b

Download the album. Make sure u have winrar so u can open the file. (If u don't have winrar, google it and download it. It's free.) Be patient. Sendspace is kinda slow.

So about the album. All I have to say is it's a white boy (obviously) whose album is entitled "S.O.S.: Save Our Soul" (Captain Obvious strikes again). Hence the title. It's 11 tracks, 10 of which are covers of soul classics. If you read this blog as much as I do, then you should see where I'm taking this. (If u don't then holler at "The Curse of Ham" post from March 19.) White boy. Sings soul. Kills it. Like "send chills up ur spine and catch the holy ghost" kills it.

Just so u know what I mean when I say he kills it, Mr. Broussard did a cover of Donny Hathaway's "I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know". If you know me, then you know that my all-time favorite artist is Donny Hathaway. Yes, I like Donny more than Jay-Z. (That means a lot. No homo.) Since I'm such a Donny Hathaway fan, I am a VERY harsh critic of any person who feels like they should desecrate a studio by doing a cover of any of his songs. I've yet to hear ONE individual cover a Donny Hathaway song and it sound OK, much less good or even great. Iunno what it is, nobody but Donny can get there.

So I'm listening to Marc Broussard kill track after track on this CD. It gets to track 5, "I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know". I'm a nervous skeptic. I'm like, nobody's ever kilt a Donny song except Donny. But I'm also like, this dude just kilt the first 4 tracks. And finally I'm like, he's white! So I'm feeling quite ambivalent.

Let's just say that before about 20 minutes ago, I had never heard another singer other than Donny Hathaway do a Donny Hathaway song justice. Now there's only one other person, and he's white. I feel some type of way about all this.

Moral of the story: Download the CD. Enjoy it. It's great music. Too bad he wasn't black.

But to restore some vestige of hope, here's a new one from Teedra Moses. If you don't know who she is, see if u can find the best R&B album of the decade Complex Simplicity somewhere. It's the best CD you never heard of.

Anyway, her next album's been due for quite some time. This is sposed to be the first single. It samples a familiar soul record. (I always try to keep a theme with these posts)

"Love's Gonna Be" - Teedra Moses
http://www.sendspace.com/file/5og2h4
http://rapidshare.com/files/39773795/lovesgonnabe.mp3

2 links. Same song. In case one's down, try the other. If neither work, then u better hope u have VIP access to my music. Otherwise, it's limewire for youuuuuuuuu.

Cuz it's black music month

...and also the month of my bday, and the beginning of summer, I'm gonna bless yall.

Now, those who know me know that I am the self-proclaimed King of the Playlist. I can do magic with an 80 minute blank cd. Since I've been in the real world (and moved my music to the external hard drive) I lost all my former playlists and haven't had much time to make new ones. But don't cry for me argentina, the truth is I never left you. This summer is all about destroy and rebuild.

The following fits on an 80 minute cd, for those without mp3 players.
I call it "Real Niggas Light Candles"

"These Streets" - Paolo Nutini
http://www.zshare.net/audio/2476217505ab31/
"Fame" - Citizen Cope
http://www.zshare.net/audio/2476239270b3a9/
"'Round Midnight" - Thelonious Monk
http://www.zshare.net/download/2476293b60ddc4/
"Peachtree Blues" - Janelle Monae
http://www.zshare.net/audio/24763126e78bd6/
"Giving Up" - Donny Hathaway
http://www.zshare.net/audio/24763656156487/
"Sideways" - Citizen Cope
http://www.zshare.net/audio/2476258c46704c/
"Mr. Curiosity" - Jason Mraz
http://www.zshare.net/audio/2476389d9158e6/
"Open Your Eyes" - Bobby Caldwell
http://www.zshare.net/audio/24764050a5b775/
"Where Did My Baby Go" - John Legend
http://www.zshare.net/audio/247643169bcf84/
"If It's Magic" - Stevie Wonder
http://www.zshare.net/audio/2476453c26e661/
"I Got It Bad & That Ain't Good" - Nina Simone
http://www.zshare.net/audio/2476469e1d249a/
"Love Is You" - Chrisette Michele
http://www.zshare.net/audio/247650525e4e19/
"Ne me quitte pas" - Nina Simone
http://www.zshare.net/audio/2476488d3faf39/
"Chariot" (stripped)- Gavin DeGraw
http://www.zshare.net/audio/24765223536f57/
"To Be Young, Gifted & Black" - Donny Hathaway
http://www.zshare.net/audio/24765579b708d2/

(FYI: The Citizen Cope songs have different names than what the actual songs are. )

For a proper, full-bodied, listening experience, one must play the following in order. Nothing is coincidental. So when the sun goes down, open the windows, let the summer breeze wrap round ur legs, light a candle, take a seat, prop ur feet on a coffee table, and close ur eyes...

Call Me... too grown for kidz bop.

Is Kanye kissin on Cassie?

P.S. "International Player's Anthem" still holds the title for video of the year. This didn't even come close.

I Choose You

Video of the Year. Leave it to Andre Benjamin.

It's not just me.

So Wale has appeared on a few remix tracks by british/new york DJ/Producer Mark Ronson. If you were smart, you downloaded Version when I posted a link a month or so ago. Just found a new Wale joint with him rapping over "Outversion" (which happens to be one of my favorite tracks off the aforementioned album).

http://www.sendspace.com/file/xrxd2t

I could be a professional "tastemaker," except I'm too much of a music snob.

P.S. I'm bout to take a nap, but i'll prolly add another post, seeing as it's May 31 and June, also known as "The Final Month of School," begins tomorrow. stay tuned...

Oy

Vey.


Yes. This was worth a post.

P.S.
Daft Punk - "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger"
Edwin Birdsong - "Cola Bottle Baby"
Thom Yorke - "The Eraser"

If you have Kanye's Can't Tell Me Nothing Mixtape, you'll understand.

But yeah, back to the point. Oy. Vey.

It's ME snitches!!!

http://rapidshare.com/files/33563841/Chrisette_Michelle-I_Am-_Advance_-2007-RAGEMP3.rar

For those who read this regularly, there are a number of artists for whom I feel the need to champion at every possible moment. Chrisette Michelle is one of these artists. Her debut album is due soon I guess, but this is the album sampler. 5 solid (and pretty wholesome) R&B tracks. Girl's got a full jazzy-r&b voice a la Jill Scott. I'm sure there will be plenty comparisons between the two.

And while I'm on the subject, how bout a new track from Jill?

http://www.sendspace.com/file/3vgg34 ->It's a banger.



Name some artists you know I always talk about: Ms. Winehouse, Wale, Janelle Monae. hmm.. What about Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" with a verse from Wale thrown on for good measure? Here ya go, "Rehab" remix featuring Wale.

http://www.zshare.net/audio/2007533bf5cf30/

And here's one with just Wale. "Rediscover Me." It's kinda old, but what's old to me is always new to you.

http://www.sendspace.com/file/ezbnbz



And if you thought I was gonna bring up Ms. Monae without putting you onto something, u'd... prolly be justified, but i'm not gonna be grimy like that. The bootleggers over at Purple Ribbon are keepin the cap on tight for her first album, Metropolis. It's gonna be quite an ambitious album (or rather "Suite" of albums). Either way holler at her MySpace page and listen to the first single off the new album, "Violet Stars Happy Hunting." The girl's quirky in a "cool-at-first-but-weird-and-unsettling-after-a-while" way. Me gusta!

http://www.myspace.com/janellemonae


In other news, Common's got a few tracks making their way around the "internets," and Kanye's looking to do big things with Graduation. Just heard a nice lil Talib track today. Nope, no links, you greedy leeches. Be happy with what I gave you.

Ok ok, how bout a snippet of what's rumored to be Kanye's first single off Graduation?
http://www.zshare.net/audio/204110512f8b38/

There. Happy now?

Call me... the musical acrobat.

This is a Public Service Announcement

STOP WEARING WALLET CHAINS

Save the first installment, updates to Greazy's Gear Guide are few and far between. But as the summer approaches, and I think of things that annoy me when I'm in the streets of Philly, I feel the need to educate my brothers and sisters.

Black people, if you thought wallet chains were lame in high school, then they still are. They belong with one group of people: hard-core rockers. A wallet chain is not suddenly hiphop jus cuz DipSet and Lil Wayne started rocking them. Let's be serious here folks. What is your wallet chain even connected to? I've yet to see one person connect his or her wallet chain to an actual wallet, which is what the durn chain is meant for anyway. I don't care how much you paid for it or how many skulls are on it. I don't care that you think it matches your extra slim fit skull and crossbones thermal undershirt that you've decided to wear with your mathcing skull and crossbones belt with rubies in the eyes of the skulls. Take it all off (no homo). You look ridiculous. In a couple years you're gonna look at that picture of you with 4 wallet chains and think "Why in the name of all that's holy did I dress like that?"

So for those of you who were thinking about going to that stand that sells wallet chains and belts that light up, I hope this will dissuade you. Some trends were never meant to be followed. If I see you wearing a wallet chain, I'm gonna think you're lame. And that will be because you are.

Now ladies, when, where, how, why did weave and wigs become such a fashion staple for black women? I mean what ever happened to taking care of your real ("My hair is real!" "Shush. It doesn't grow out ur cot durn scalp, woman") hair. I mean really, it's the friggin status quo to go to the hair dresser bald and come out with a head full of hair cut from Chun Li, a Chinese immigrant girl who makes her way through the world fighting in streets among the likes of metrosexual Spaniards and Mike Tyson wannabes. Whatever happend to a perm? A press and curl? Do hair dressers even know how to do that anymore or is it like the 8-track player? "Come in, sit down, and lemme stick this suction cup on ur head so I can needle-and-thread 9 inches of jet-black stringy hair that makes even ur baby hairs look nappy. And yeah, I'ma style it and give you bangs too." Bangs? Weave bangs? I mean, you didn't even have enough healthy hair to pull off bangs? Yes, I know, we've never seen how much hair Beyonce really has, but it's Beyonce, and as long as Jay's happy, she can get as much million dollar weave as she wants. Last time I checked, none of you were her. (Correct me if I'm wrong tho.)

Despite what most would assume, I would much rather see a woman who took care of the hair growing out her scalp--short or long--than a woman who's funding communism by spending her child support checks on Chinese hair or, worse yet, wigs, instead of buying some formula for her baby. No, it doesn't have to be bone straight. It just has to be healthy. Nothing worse than a woman with a fresh 'do and a spoiled everything else. Where are your priorities?

Now that I've got that off my chest, on to some things for the summer. Fellas, a few must-haves:

White shoes. This should be a no-brainer. It's bout to be friggin summer. What are you doing not wearing white? Preferably more than one pair: a low top sneaker and a high top one, as well as a loafer. Pass on the lace-up hard bottoms though.

Chancletas: Yes, I know you wallet-chain wearers are cringing about the thought of what your hero Cam'ron "Get a shot of my [kiddie] pool in the back" Giles would say about you wearing sandals or flip-flops but let's be real, when the heat really kicks in, we all need to let our toes breathe. Let Cam wear his Timbs to the beach. Besides, what's less gangsta, sandals or facials?


Don't forget to exfoliate Jimmy!

That's it. As far as me, I'm doing the same I've always done. More sneakers u think are ugly today but will be asking me about in a couple months, tee shirts you don't understand, thrift store dress shirts, fresh fitteds, and japanese selvage denim.

P.S. ya boy's bday is coming up. I'm thinking about a week-long celebration here in Philly. Start a grease fire in the city, "ya dig?" [said like Weezy]. That reminds me, I gotta wax philosophical about The Carter 3 soon. Another post. Another day.

Call Me... "the trapeze artist"

Has it really been a month?

So yeah, I haven't posted anything on here in a long time. In fact, it's my first post for the month of May. And those youtube posts really don't count for much, seeing as I didn't really say anything. Either way, I hope the month long reprieve afforded all you procrastinators a chance to get caught up on schoolwork and the like. I know I didn't get any work for UPenn done, but I'm hoping you people are smart enough to not look at me as a model of exemplary scholarship.

So it's May. The end of May at that. What's happened? Well, near the beginning of the month I had an itch to spend money (it's prolly more accurately characterized as "psoriasis" and not an "itch"). I had been seriously contemplating upgrading my computer and getting a laptop, but we all know I can't afford to drop a stack like that. So as I walked around the UPenn Tech shop, I came across some backup hard drives. So I copped 250 gigabytes of fresh hard drive and rushed home.

The result: Roberto Miguel de Dell is no longer on life support like he's been for the past 4 years. I emptied my hard drive of all my music and loaded it all onto my new hard drive. Plus, I finally upgraded and downloaded iTunes. So for those VIPs who still have access to My Music folder, you've prolly noticed that it's scant. Now you know why. And no, I'm prolly not sharing my new hard drive for you vultures. :-) But I will let the new joints marinate in My Music folder before I delete them for good from Roberto Miguel.

Now that I have 250gb to fill, I've taken the time I useta spend blogging and finding all the random music I always wanted to have but couldn't. Complete Stevie Wonder discography? Pretty much got it. Random rock albums? Got them joints too. Old school hip hop albums? Slowly but surely building the library. So yeah, me and my first love have been romancing heavy.

So then there's Tilden. Hmm... can I tell you that I love my job? Like really. I'm not being sarcastic here folks. My school is still a hellhole in the heart of Southwest Philly. The kids are still not the brightest crayons in the box. The administration is as disjointed and catty as ever. But I love it all. My kids make me laugh every single day. No matter what happens between me and a student (or me and a group of students), I always win. (This is very important. Teachers must always win in order to maintain authority and loyalty. Watch animal planet and you'll understand.) I don't have to actually carry around my "consequence chart" like I used to. My kids listen and they work. It's kinda great.

My sneaker collection has exploded. It now takes up 2 closets. It's quite disgusting. And with the summer coming, things can only get worse. Plus, New Balance is now going all out on fresh colorways, so I guess my other love affair is gonna continue as well.

Was this as boring as I think it was? Prolly so. Kinda hard to pack an entire month into one post. Oh well, it's not like you need to know everything anyway. Touch your nose... you're being nosy.

I believe you

I see u Corinne... Cover of JT's "Sexyback"

Gobble gobble gobble

British Band covers Amerie's "One Thing"

"It's a secret society; all we ask is trust"

good luck kids.

Shop talk

Is it just me, or does a fresh line make you the most confident man this side of the River Jordan?

Why is getting your hair washed (by a female--never a dude) so relaxing?

Little Lily

"Littlest Things" Lily Allen

One of my favorite songs on the album. Youtube is a monster.

and for those interested, it samples some theme song from a french show or something called "Emmanuelle" by Pierre Bachelet. google that jawn.

Inner memories mar my mind...

http://www.vh1.com/vspot/player.jhtml?name=music&id=1556642&purl=/artists/az/winehouse_amy/artist.jhtml&launchedFrom=/artists/az/winehouse_amy/artist.jhtmlSo

I've been waiting patiently for the Live MTV/vh1 Amy Winehouse performance since I saw photos from the performance a few weeks ago on mtv.com. Today, they finally put the actual videos online. 4 songs: "You Know I'm No Good," "Rehab," "Back to Black," and "Love is a Losing Game." Her only accompaniment is an acoustic guitar.

The result: chill-inducing, gut-wrenching soul. Amy's been getting a lotta press lately. Usually when such a thing happens, you reach a point where you're just like "Enough already. She's good, but she's not that good." But the thing with Amy is, she really is that good. And not just in a musical sense, but in an artistic sense.

Believe the hype. All of it. Watching this performance made me love her and pity her simultaneously. Just listening to it put Koiner "in the land of the lost," but it was watching it that really twists ur guts and chills u to the core. She sounded like something between a cello and a trumpet, the strength, the delicacy, the beauty. But watching her, you knew that these weren't just songs. It wasn't a singalong. She was revealing herself to us, and it seemed as if she wasn't sure that we had earned such a privilege. She sat on her barstool as though she were naked and forced to be there. Watching it made me feel like I was, in some way, violating her. She never smiled, not even a grin to accent some of the witty lines that make her album so enjoyable. Her eyes stayed down, she never looked into the camera. At times, it seemed as though she weren't even there mentally. It seemed as though she was looking back into her past, sadly reminiscing of the heartache that produced an album so drenched in lonely torment.

I think much of this had to do with her simple accompaniment. There is an added level of comfort and security when you share the stage with a band and backup singers. (Indeed, it allows many of our less talented stars to camoflauge their lack of talent as well.) It can also infuse a performer with confidence. However, with minimal accoutrement, the covers are pulled back. Someone could be a very emotive singer in a choir, but suddenly become a shy mouse as a soloist. The crab no longer has his shell or his claw, it's pure meat. (I'm a cancer; i had to get that in.) And what I saw today in Amy, was that behind the wit and deprecating humor was pure sorrow. A sorrow like fire, refining her to the point of producing a true masterpiece in Back to Black, but also destroying her, consuming her like her well-publicized bouts with alcoholism and depression. Watching her sing "I just need a friend," during her performance of "Rehab," you're left thinking that it wasn't meant tongue-in-cheek. She really needs a friend. Her disillusionment at that point is almost tearfully palpable. You see--no, you feel--why and how a shot glass became a dependable anchor to a person plagued by dissapointment.

*Cue Ms. Angelou*

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the win
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.

Call Me... marred by memories of the "Littlest Things"

Sharing is caring

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=W9ND2BE4
^click and get. It's a zip file.

Now you too can act like a hipster at the next cool-guy shindig. First Mark Ronson, now Lily Allen? That's two free albums from ppl you've never heard of. I must be gettin soft.

Call Me... The Giver.

P.S. Don't tell the RIAA.

"They 'Youtubed' us? SHOOT THE VIDEO!"

Between Lily Allen, Amy Winehouse, and his own album, Mark Ronson rules my media player right now. Here's the video for "Stop Me." Apparently, the song is burning up the UK charts (for good reason).



And here's the original version of the song by The Smiths.




Happy Easter folks. I'm headed home for the weekend. Sweet potato pie is waiting for meeeeeeeeee!!!

Call Me... no wait, stop me :-)

One more reason why I only watch HBO

"It's a miracle our government hasn't outlawed fat white women."

If you have HBO OnDemand, try and watch the whole episode.

Now I don't necessarily agree with his stance on drugs, (Maher is a pothead), but you gotta admit that ole head brings up some very good points.

Call Me... before I post again

Iran knows something we don't

http://www.rapidsafe.net/rc-QTY4MmN3UTM/Mark_Ronson-Version-_Promo_-2007-SAW.rar

^click this link to download the album

Mark Ronson is the man behind the boards on Amy Winehouse's Back to Black. His sister (Samantha Ronson) was signed to Rocafella back in the day but nothing really ever came of it (surprise). Either way, you ppl know I don't like sharing, but it's no real point in hoarding all this. Version is an album of covers, retooled by Ronson. Because u care, here are my personal faves: "Oh My God" Lily Allen, "Stop Me" Daniel Merriweather, "Valerie" Amy Winehouse, and "Outversion." "Stop Me" is definitely one-song playlist worthy. (And I'm sure this doesn't need mentioning, but all these folks are melanin-deficient. Merriweather is from the Land Down Under.)

And while I'm on the subject, holler at Lily Allen's album Alright Still. She's not another Amy Winehouse, and I feel bad for putting yall onto her after Amy cuz Amy's such a hard act to follow, but she's worth your attention too. Lily's pure pop tho. She also has a remix to her song "Smile" produced by Mark Ronson and featuring Wale, the best thing coming outta DC since the Republican Congressional majority.

The second wave of the British invasion is in full swing. Hope u folks have ur white flags ready. They'll need some place to run to after Iran gets done punking them.

P.S. U need to download winrar to open the file in the link. It's a .rar file which is like a .zip file. Don't say I never did nuthin for ya...

Call Me... but I prolly won't pick up.

Supply and Demand

So a lotta nothing's been happening of recent. I've informally been removed from the grad program at UPenn and placed into the Teacher's Certificate program. It's okay, don't shed any tears over it cuz I won't. I'm dissappointed in myself, but really it's for the better, and it'll save me quite a bit of dinero next year. Plus, I have an automatic hook-up (and a possible discount) should I decide to finish the Master's program at UPenn in the future. What it amounts to (pun intended) is about $10,000 less and class one weekend a month next year. (No Thursday classes!) I'm happy to say there are no hard feelings between me and the director of my grad program, the mother of DJ Drama.

On Friday, I had the privilege of meeting Dr. James Spady at the UPenn bookstore. If u don't know who he is, google him. I'm not wasting time to explain. Anyway, he teaches at UPenn and was speaking about a book he and two other ppl just published on Hip Hop. I went to meet him and one of the other authors, H. Samy Alim, but Alim was stuck in Cali and couldn't make it to UPenn. Oh well, I still got an autographed book. (Yes, I'm a nerd. Stop hating.)

Now, Spring is officially here, and with summer around the corner, all the retailers are breaking out the goods for the sunshine. Luckily, instead of going broke, I might make a few bones. Why you ask?

Because of these limited Nike Air Force One's. I know. You're looking at them and ur like "OK, enough about shoes already. It's just leather and rubber, Jonathan. And these aren't even that special looking." Yes, I'll admit, these really aren't that special. (They have some nice details tho). The real story behind the shoes is this: they are limited to Nike's top-of-the-line "Tier 0" retail accounts. Translation: you can't get em at the mall, only at cool-guy shops. Tier 0 accounts are located only in NYC, Cali, and--as of a few weeks ago--Philadelphia. The one and only store in Philly with a Tier Zero account is supposed to get them in sometime this week and when they do, Mr. Garr will buy at least four pair.

Why? Because I can expect to get at least 150% return on my investment by selling them to ppl all over the country who are making messes in their pants every time they see them. I used to be one of those ppl, sitting in his dorm room in the god-forsaken midwest, looking at shoes only available on the coasts and stabbing my hands with spoons because I knew I'd have to sell a woman's ovaries to get the cash to buy them from a reseller. My oh my, how the tables have turned. Except the game isn't easy as it was 3 years ago. Reselling sneakers is much harder to do profitably (I'll save u the explanations why) and profits from reselling have gone down substantially. Still, there's money to be made when the right shoe drops at the right time, and at the right places (and by "right places" I mean as few places as possible). It's pure economics. You don't need a degree from Olin or Wharton for that one.

Call Me..."Ur Pusha"

Cuz I said so

Go see The Host. It's billed as a monster movie, and it does have a monster in it, but it's much more of an exercise in parody of the genre and political satire. The result: you'll find yourself laughing awkwardly instead of jumping or screaming, so don't expect to go for a good scare cuz it's more hilarious than frightening. It's a little long, but throughout the 2 hours or so I was in the theatre, it was filled with snickering and giggling movie-goers. So if ur bored one night and need to do something, find where it's showing in ur hood and get to going.

In other news, my t-shirt game is vicious right now. Not as vicious as my shoe game (which, at present, has eclipsed "bird flu-sick" and is now approaching "ebola pandemic-sick"), but it's nice. The summer's gonna be lovely.

Call me... broke for spring break

She's Back! (Praise White Jesus)

"Bird Flu"

M.I.A. is back and I couldn't be more siced. Do not sleep. I repeat: DO NOT SLEEP! This chick is one of the most vicious artists out. (Holler at me if u want her first album "Arular." It was hands down one of the best albums of 2005.)

"I'm a hard gal so I need a man for romance/Streets are makin em hard so they're selfish little roamers/Jumpin' girl to girl, make us meat like burgers/ When I get fat, I'm gon' pop me out some leaders"

"Bird Flu" indeed. sick.

Call Me... big on the underground (what's the point of knockin me down?)

Apocalypse Now

Today during PD I learned that Tilden Middle School is the school of Satan. Here's why:

• Next year Tilden will have 6 teachers for each grade (6th, 7th, and 8th). in other words, 6,6,6.
• There will be 6 expressive arts teachers and 6 Special Ed Teachers
• Tilden is located on the corner of 66th and Elmwood
• "Tilden Middle School" has 6 letters in each word. again, 6,6,6.

Far too many sixes. But at least now I can assign some type of rhyme or reason for the degree of chaos. And oh, somebody was shooting on the corner of 66th and Elmwood at about 8:15 this morning with hundreds of kids outside too. I guess somebody didn't get the "Tell them we are rising" memo. :-\

Wit never goes out of style

The caption on the "New York Robbery" tee reads "All you need is a dollar and a delusion." Both tees came out January/February, but I was bored and felt like these were hype-worthy. You'll have to go to ebay to cop the "Cousins" joint. (if u come across a large, holler).

The premise for the "Cousins" tee:

think Nas.

The premise for the "NY Robbery" Tee (taken from the designer's website):

We dont usually go too far out of our way to explain tshirt meanings but we felt like this was an important one to discuss. What we were trying to get at are the supposed benefits that state lottery systems claim to provide to society, and the actual ills they perpetuate. Without going into too much detail - state lottery systems were first instituted in 1964 (New Hampshire was the first) as a means of raising money for education. They were viewed as a better alternative to increasing taxes across the board, since participation in lotteries is voluntary. Since then, it's become startlingly clear through numerous studies that not only do lotteries fail to provide any measurable benefits to school systems, they also target the very demographics that the educational reforms are supposed to benefit the most: low-income families.

First, lets talk about the lack of benefits. In a study from Money Magazine, it's been found that states without lotteries actually spend a greater percentage of their budget on education. Further, since 1990, spending devoted to education has actually decreased in lottery states, while increasing in non-lottery states during the same period (Source). Some have suggested that lottery proceeds that are earmarked for education programs may actually just be replacing the original state-budgeted education money that has been funneled off into other mysterious programs - thus, the money is technically going towards schools but the actual dollars spent on education are not increasing.

Secondly, lotteries have been proven time and time again to target low-income families, thus negating any positive societal benefits they claim to bring. Vishal Gehrig of the University of Maryland states: "A study of lottery play among income classes in Maryland found that adults in the under $10,000 income group spent nearly three times more than those earning $50,000 or more. (In fact, twenty percent of players account for sixty-five percent of the total amounts wagered, and ten percent of players account for half.)" (Source). He's not the only one that has found this - countless other studies continually prove that because of large marketing budgets and false claims of jackpots and odds, state lottery systems target and get money from the people who need it the most, thereby cultivating gambling addictions among the poorest segment of the population.

I know this stuff is weightier than what we usually write about.. but given our "new royalty" campaign which focuses on hard work and diligence, we thought it was important to discuss the lottery and its false "get rich quick" appearances, as well as its negative effect on the poor and disenfranchised population that it claims to
benefit.

Call Me... [sicker/smarter/flyer] than ur average

The Curse of Ham

Rap sales plummeted 21% in 2006. In a slow year for music overall, no Rap album sold enough to make the Top 10 list for the year. This was a first in a very, very long time.

"the game's [effed] up. nigga's beats is banging, nigga ur hooks did it. ur lyrics didn't, ya gangsta look did it. so i would write it, if yall could get it. being intricate, will get u wood, critic. on the internet, they like 'u should spit it.' i'm like 'u should buy it'--nigga that's good business."

Sorry Hov, I can't go with u on this one. During a routine bit of procrastination, I watched a 4-part video online: "Confessions of a BET Producer." Without going into an analysis of everything said, I'll just say that black music has successfully been pimped again. They did it to every other secular form of black music, and now we have sold ourselves back into bondage.

"I dumbed down for my audience and doubled my dollars. They criticize me for it, but they all yell 'Holla!'"

Thus is the double edged sword. Jay is currently an executive. The big wig. The swinging "appendage" at the world's most storied Hip-Hop label. What has he done to reestablish integrity into the music? Nothing more than a sub-par "comeback" album. There's something to be said about the oppressed who find their ways through an oppressive system only to become themselves reincarnations of those same oppressors. For all the disgust I have for Jim Jones, there was some truth in his indictment of Jay for selling out to the "Doug Morrises" and "Jimmy Iovines" of big business (and don't be fooled, that's really what it is).

Yes, stupidity sells, but it doesn't get u the Lifetime Achievement Award at the Grammy's (though it may earn you an Oscar). Nas's "Can't Forget About You" is an infinitely better song than Jeezy's "Go Getta" for a number of reasons: better production, better hook, and umm... better lyrics. But the few times I turn on the TV, I keep on seeing that child molester and Jeezy dancing with a room full of women. There was a time when it was hot, but that was 10 years ago. Booty in videos peaked around the time "Dolly" and "No Panties On the Dance Floor" were BET Uncut hits.

My love for rap has not wavered, but my frustration with it has come to a point where I must bid it adieu by and large. I can't watch BET or MTV without throwing up in my mouth at how stupid we look. There was a time when I used to sit and read lyrics for songs. There was a time when a hot line could give me chills. It doesn't happen anymore.

Who's to blame? We are. We sold our music (and therefore our souls--music has always been the core of our ethnic identity) to white suburbia. Jay was right, we "brought the suburbs to the hood" and they cleaned us out of everything worth anything. They took the fun out our music. And no, I don't mean the leaning and rocking. There was a time--there has always been a time--where black music was fun, not too serious, but still said something. All I can think about is Justin Timberlake's latest album. Futuresex/Lovesound was a fun album, but it wasn't frothy like D4L or even Jim Jones. It broke ground without taking itself too seriously. It was music. Good music. It was art. Remember when Hip Hop was art? Today it's more "paint by numbers." Insert cocaine reference here. Insert sex reference here. Insert money reference here. Insert alcohol reference here. Promote new clothing line here. I mean cot durn!

And since I fiend for good music even more so than I fiend for exclusive Nikes, the past 5 years have sent me more and more to white artists for what black artists used to be renowned. You know, above, I said "they" took the fun out our music. I'm unfairly passing the buck. "We" took the fun out our music. We allowed for it to become okay to pass off laziness as mediocrity and labelled mediocrity genius. When white America bought into us, we bought into their conception of us, as an ignorant monolith of gun-toting, drug-slinging, whore-mongering buffoons.

And why not? I mean, it was profitable. We saw Jay and Diddy make money and thought that we were making money too. Problem was, we weren't. They were. But still, we followed like sheep. We burned our throwbacks. We bought shirts with collars. We started calling ourselves "grown and sexy." We didn't have a pot to piss in nor a window to throw it out of.

Meanwhile, we forgot what it was like to be vulnerable. Our music became the moat and brick walls for an empty city. We dug deeper ditches, filled it with more unsavory creatures, gilded our gates, blinged out the bricks, tricked out the drawbridge, and for what? A city with nothing in it. (Was that a lil too abstract for u?) Basically, we created an image of invincibility. The super-thug. The super-thug got his coke straight off the boat from the Columbians. The super-thug took 41 shots and sodomy-by-plunger and lived to record a platinum-plus album about it. The super-thug always won.

I mean dang, even R&B couldn't escape it. I think Robin Thicke's "Lost Without You" is the first song in a VERY long time to get play and be popular that showcased a man's emotional vulnerability unapologetically. (And he's white. Point proven.) The Child Molester keeps thuggin even tho he got ran off stage in Madison Square Garden. Outside of Thicke, the biggest R&B hit that exhibited a bit of emotional vulnerability was prolly T-Pain's ode to the STD-laden working women in "I'm In Love With a Stripper."

I know what you're thinking. My point exactly.

So I'm sure ur like, "dang, jonathan. where is all this coming from?" Well, it's coming from the fact that I've been listening to Amy Winehouse for the past 2 weeks non-stop and my frustration with the fact that 1) Back to Black is, as ?uestlove stated, the album Lauryn Hill wanted to make, and 2) that nobody black makes good music worth listening to anymore. I got a lotta ethnic pride and it really irks me to hear a white british girl do soul (Aretha/Ella Fitzgerald soul, not elevator-soul like Corinne) better than anybody else in the game right now. It bothers me when I'm looking up lyrics to Citizen Cope, The Fray, Jamie Cullum, and all these other white folks cuz they're actually saying something and nobody black says anything worth repeating outside of meaningless, catchy phrases (BALLIN, and all other DipSet ad libs apply).

Now that's not to say I hate white ppl. Some of my closest friends are white :-). And it's not to say I don't like the fact that they are making good music by peicing together remnants of the black musical heritage with HipHop sensibilities. I love it and I respect it. I just wish black people would do it (and respect it). Part of the problem is that if anyone outside of Prince would have made Futuresex/Lovesound, no DJ would've ever played it. Negroes woulda passed on it like it was the bird flu. The same with Amy Winehouse. I mean really, if Lupe was white, he wouldn'ta went platinum, he woulda went friggin diamond. We as a people have become so enamored of the image created for us (by us) that it's like we're standing "in the mirror pointing at [our] reflection, killing [ourselves]" unconsciously.

I still have hope for hip hop though. The game is lacking in bonafide talent, but those who have it, have it. Wayne is a monster. He needs to go through some stuff and use that raw ability to get some points across or at least tell us a good story like Biggie. He has the potential. Lupe's Food and Liquor was, in my eyes, the best Rap album of 2006. He scares me though. I could see him falling off like Nas did after It Was Written. The Clipse and Ghostface are the only ppl I feel that are worthy to do cocaine rap. If you ain't them, leave it alone. (That includes u, Weezy.) If it wasn't for The Clipse's Lord Willin' cocaine rap wouldn't even exist in its present level of mainstream popularity. I hope Jeezy pays royalties to Pusha and Malice. I think Andre 3000 is the best in the game right now as far as breadth goes. He's one of the very few rappers that makes me rewind a song to catch a line. Jay gets an Honorable Mention cuz he's Jay. I mean Kingdom Come was lazy, but there's something to be said for a lazy album being better lyrically than 90% of everything else. And I think he's in the process of rediscovering himself. I expect him to be the first real Republican rapper. I'm not joking. He's slowly but surely moving in that direction. Unless the Democrats cryogenically infuse themselves with a sturdy backbone, I see the Jiggaman playing the coon at a Republican National Convention within the next 10 years.

And as far as up and coming, I'd be remissed if I didn't shine the spotlight on Wale. All I've listened to for the past two weeks has been Wale and Amy Winehouse. I put all their music in the media player and just shuffle that jawn.

Now, in case u missed it, what I spent the last umpteen hours lamenting was the shallow state of black music and its narrow scope of artistry and message. Really, I don't mind the leaning and rocking. I even don't mind the cocaine rap. I'm not a HipHop Fascist. I just think black music has narrowed itself to the point that is become a black hole, a house fallen in on itself as the walls came closer together. Cocaine rap, when done right (and by "right," I mean by The Clipse and Ghostface--not Rich Boy), is hot. It speaks not only to an experience, to a voice often silenced and villainized, but gives that voice flesh, bones, and spirit through its multiplicity. (I'm not pulling ur chain. Lord Willin' and Hell Hath No Fury are unabashedly drug-ridden, but equally conscious and intelligent.) It humanizes the drug dealer without allowing him to become a caricature. Think "Nightmares." Good party music makes u wanna dance without making u look ridiculous on Kidz Bop. Consumerism has always been a part of HipHop. I won't bash it. Shoot, Wale's lyrics are steeped in consumerism. But there was a time when it was okay to say "I Need Love."

The fact of the matter is, contrary to what Jay-Z says, "being intricate" will not get u "wood." I have a feeling that, if Wayne doesn't get lazy on us, The Carter 3 will be his best selling album ever. Why? Because people want to hear what he has to say. And even more than that, they want to hear how he's gonna say it. There's a reason rap sales plummeted, and it's not cuz of the internet. It's cuz nobody pays for the "image." If we like the beat, we'll download a ringtone, no need to buy a crappy album. We've always wanted to hear what ppl have to say. Why else do u think DipSet is so popular? They always have something to say.

Field of Dreams is famous for the line "If you build it, they will come." The inverse is also true. Niggas leave if u don't take care of ish. So while the House of HipHop has decayed into dilapidation, I and an alarming number of others of the African-American persuasion have jumped ship and bought the Amy Winehouse album, paid to go to a Robin Thicke concert, and brought "SexyBack" while staving off a "Maneater" or two.

Ask them. If you spit it, we will buy it. Cuz that's good business.

Call Me... sleep deprived in the morning.

Amy, Amy, Amy

Me and the Fader must have some kinda Jedi mind sync goin on right now.

...Prolly know me from the raps

My dude is gonna blow up. From The Fader party in nyc

Mommy wow! I'm a big boy now...

So most ppl who know me also know that i've dreaded growing up since around the time I turned 20. The notion of being "mature" and having "responsibilities" and bills (i can't put that in quotes, them jawns are no joke!) has been something I thought I could avoid like bird flu. But alas, though I enjoyed the nest and never really desired to fly, time has necessitated that I take the big step and become a completely independent being.

So today I opened my 403 (b) retirement account. I'm gonna be saving a considerable amount over the next year and investing in some good funds. It's really weird to talk about a retirement plan when u've only been in the work force for barely 6 months. Still, if "Jim Jones has equity," then so should I, or at least take the steps to get there some day. Plus, I need to find a way to stop spending every piece of loose change I can find on limited edition Nikes. If Nikes were illegal drugs, The East Coast would be Hamsterdam (not a typo... get up on The Wire) and I'd be some strung-out junkie in an abandoned building somewhere (I mean, I played one in BA... lol). So I'm taking the dough I would normally squelch on the Red Nike Supreme Blazers I've been searching for for the past 2 months and putting it away for the next, say.... 40 or so years. Then I can buy Nike Air Orthopedics (limited edition ones of course).

On top of that, I found my health care card in my wallet today. Something about looking at the co-pay on the card and opening up my retirement account made it click that I am an actual adult. It was bittersweet. I felt a sense of accomplishment on one hand and a sense of dread on the other. This isn't monopoly money. It's my REAL money. And i HATE spending it. I know ur thinking, "Then why all the gear?" The gear justifies itself to my sick mind cuz i get to look at it everyday. I have it right in my face. Plus, I take care of it so I keep it forever. But a doctor's visit? I don't leave there with much more than my health. I mean, can I get a free t-shirt at least? A gift certificate to a restaurant? Just my health? That's it?

*sigh* I'm a writer, but I wouldn't mind taking a bite outta somebody else's paycheck.

Call me... if ur interested in donating.

Visual theatre

Do urself a favor and go see "300". Don't expect much in the lines of plot. The storyline is (loosely) based on history so read a Social Studies book if you want that. But if u want a lot of real cool (said like a white computer nerd) visuals, this is the one to see. And it has some witty dialogue between the crazy battle scenes.

Now while I thought the movie was great--I think i'm gonna try and see it again, but at an IMAX--i have one complaint. Why were the bad guys (i.e. the Persians) all ppl of color? But not just ppl of color, they were outright BLACK, like blue-black, "my-name-has-18-letters-and-2-vowels" black. While i understand that the color contrast helped to accentuate the visual effects, I just have a problem with 1) the historical inaccuracy and 2) the representation of blacks. I mean dang, if the movie was about Egypt, they woulda cast all the puerto ricans they could find before they would get someone as black as the "Persians" in "300". That said, I did thoroughly enjoy the movie.

Amy Winehouse. Heard of her? If u haven't, u need to. Thanks to the beauty that is Vh1 Soul, I heard her video playing while I was doing something else around the apartment. I immediately started downloading anything I could find by her. She's a British "jazz" singer. I say "jazz" in quotes cuz she's like a female Jamie Cullum. She's a jazz singer, but that's too small a box to put her in. She's really a soul singer. Yes, a white british soul singer... kinda like that other one, uh, Joss Stone? I never really like that chick. This one, I like tho. And, increasingly, it seems that "soul" has been exorcised from black music and put into these strange white bodies, often from foreign, melanin-deficient lands. I mean, I knew the apocalypse was coming when I first heard Christina Aguilera belt out an Aretha Franklin song in the 90s, but I never thought I'd get to a point where names like Justin Timberlake, Jamie Cullum, Citizen Cope (shoutout to young Taylor, Jr), Maroon 5, and now Amy Winehouse would have more bonafide soul than their black contemporaries. The hiphop gangsta has killed black soul. Sensitive thugs, go get some hugs and bring me back my soul.

but since i'm not holding my breath, I'll put on some Amy Winehouse and wait.

Call me... please.

Two posts in one day? That bored, huh?

Considering I haven't specifically written about what takes up the vast majority of my life, (i.e. teaching), I figured I'd drop something so as to ground the blog in its roots (does anyone else find that funny like me?)

Well, progress has been made in Room 401. A LOT of progress. Mr. Garr no longer screams and yells. He still wacks kids, but he does it with a 2.5 ft pole that he twirls around in class and the halls like a billy club ("kappa style" as one teacher said). So I guess u can say I embody the saying "Speak softly and carry a big stick." I've learned a lot of the nuances of managing a classroom of kids. I am much more laid back with my kids. Seriously, I spend most the day sitting in my barstool at the front of the classroom and give responsibilties to students. "James, get that off my desk and pass it out." "Mabintu, take attendance for me." "Rugei, erase the board for me." "Derrick pass out the Math books." I've realized that as a teacher, I don't have to do every single thing in the classroom. In fact, things go a lot smoother when u start delegating those responsibilities to students. Grading papers, writing on the board, reading a problem--I forgot that kids love to do that.

And the funny thing is, my class is much more like a family now than it was 4 months ago. A (very) dysfunctional one, yes, but a family nonetheless. I am (finally) the ultimate authority in the classroom, evidenced by my ability to wack one of them without anyone threatening to tell their parents or calling the police. They know that I only wack em when they deserve it and that's only when they've refused to listen to repeated warnings. It's the unspoken consequence on my consequence chart (lol). And most times, I don't even have to hit them. I just grip it tightly like I'm about to wack them (which I am usually about to do if they don't stop) and they straighten up. "Aight Mr. Garr! Dang!" as their eyes get huge and they run back to their seats.

It was a long, arduous road to get to this point, and honestly, I've yet to "arrive". It's just that my class has improved immensely from the constant chaos of September, October, and November. I've reached a comfort zone (maybe too comfortable since I sometimes don't show up to school until 8:30. School starts at 8:15). And on top of all that, my kids are learning. Really, they are. Granted, I haven't touched a science book since December, but my kids are airtight in Math and know a good bit about Ancient Egypt (they can't pronounce "hieroglyphics" tho).

This past week has been especially chill. Next week we take the PSSA's. These are the state-wide tests that test students in Math and Reading as mandated by No Child Left Behind. Tilden has some of the lowest scores in Philadelphia and has failed to meet annual goals for YEARS. They even failed to meet the lower goals that are set for schools that fail to meet the regular statewide goals. It's that bad.

But since next week is PSSA time, I took this week as an opportunity to test the buhjesus out of my kids. I had a few mock PSSA tests in a crate so I made copies of them jokers and passed em out to the class. Aside from the fact that it prepares them for the format and work needed for the real PSSA's, it also guarantees 2+ hours of complete silence from my kids (another piece of evidence that we've made progress in Room 401). So I can chill, visit other teachers, stare out the window and marinate. It's been great. And after they finish, we go over the test. If they start talking, I stop, sit down, and wait for them to shut up. I look at the clock like I'm keeping time of how long they talk (even tho i don't) cuz they know whatever time they take from me I take from them by making them stay after school. Eventually they shut up after yelling at each other to stop talking and I continue. This was seriously my week. Very chill.

And tomorrow, we have the PSSA Pep Rally. Yes, a pep rally for standardized tests. There are 3 different shows, one for each grade. (It'd be chaos to try and have the whole school at once). But since I'm performing in the pep rally, I have to go to all 3, which means my class gets to go to all 3. (Which means ya boy teaches nothing tomorrow and just chills in the auditorium with his kids all day). I hung this fact over my kids' heads all week, letting them know that if they acted up all week, then I would do what I gotta do at the pep rally and march my class up 4 stories of steps to the classroom and work them like a group of recaptured runaway slaves. Since they know I'm crazy enough to do such a thing, they took it to heart and kept themselves in line (for the most part).

I still haven't told them what I'm doing at the pep rally. I didn't even let them know I was performing. I think most of them think that I'm just in charge of some part of it. It'll be funny to see how they react tomorrow.

But what will be funnier is seeing whether or not I'll be able to even talk tomorrow. Somewhere between Tuesday and Wednesday, my whole body started rebelling against itself. My glands are extra swollen, it hurts like heck to swallow (two terrible things for a singer), my body feels super weak, and i have a serious headache. (Pre-med's? Med School students? Ideas?) I usually don't get sick, and I've done pretty well to keep from getting sick from my kids. I take a multi-vitamin everyday, and load up on Vitamin C but something snuck through my immune system and got me good. Let's hope that whatever it is waits to deliver the final blow AFTER tomorrow. Either that or just leave tonight.

Yeah, that'd be great.

Now that i've filled the void in school posts for the past 4 months, I can go back to music, gear, and random quotes and poems till May/June.... sike nah. (you hype!)

The Art of War

So for those who don't know, my lifelong dream has been to bridge my passions for music (especially hip hop) and English Lit and Language (along with my deep interest in social politics) and become a "Hip Hop Scholar." The notion was once a novel one but is now just atypical as there is a small but respected league of 20- and 30-somethings with big name BAs and PhDs who do just that.

That said, I was listening to the new Timbo track featuring Nelly Furtado and J.T. (the one where Timbo goes at Scott Storch and Timberlake goes at Prince) and wondered: wouldn't it be vicious if someone were to approach hip hop beef from a scholarly perspective? From the roots of old school hip hop beef and battling through 30-something years to MySpace, YouTube, and Street DVD disses. Don't frown, it's a microcosm of so much going on in popular culture, black culture and American culture. I mean really, Justin Timberlake just dissed Prince. Who'da thunk that sentence would ever exist? Definitely not me (for many reasons).

And its amazing how political hip hop has become within the last decade. I mean dang, a rapper can't say anything about another person without it being disected. And on the other end, everybody else is goin for dolo to try to reach the throne and proclaim themselves the illest. That, along with a new group of verbs, "youtubed" "myspaced" and "DVD'd" (thanks to Jim Jones aka Young Capo aka One-Eyed Willy aka LL Cool J cuz the "Ladies Love Cool James" aka Tru Life, Who are youuuuuuu?"... Jimmy has contributed immeasurably to the English Language:-/) begs to be analyzed by someone. And by "someone," I mean "me".

Oh and just in case you didn't understand those 3 vocab words, how bout some meaningful sentences (always the teacher):

1. I'm sure when 50 cent saw that Killa Cam had youtubed their phone convo for millions to see on the internet, he was ready to go at Killa.

2. I can't believe they myspaced Tru Life when they hacked into his myspace page and changed all his friends and pics.

3. I heard that Bleek had DVD'd Jim Jones by talking trash about Jimmy and the whole DipSet on a recent street DVD.

I only posted this cuz i'm about to make some spaghetti and didn't wanna forget it. Don't steal my idea. And let's hope i get over whatever sickness my body is currently trying to contract.

It's been a long time...

Its been over 3 weeks since my last post. not like u ppl are fiending for me to update this or anything, but i felt like i should drop a lil sumthin. The past 3 weeks have been the most uneventfully eventful (or is that eventfully uneventful?) weeks since I've been in philly. Took a quick road trip to dc to holler at the ole heads giles and obinna. shoutout to Jim Jones for making that weekend fantastical. I'm hiding from UPenn since I am probably the worst grad student ever. And school is winding down as my kids are preparing for the big statewide tests next week. This is what we prep the kids for all year and what they usually fail with outstanding levels of success.

Speaking of which, I'll be giving my first public performance since i've come to philly on friday. Where? No, it's not a talent show or some hip, neo-soul, doobie wrapped hipster open mic night. It's at Tilden's PSSA pep rally. Yes, we have a pep rally for our federal/state-mandated standardized tests (i never had a pep rally for Iowa tests or SOLs...lol) and yes I'm singing. No I did not volunteer, nor was I asked. I was not even around when the decision was made. In fact, I was in the air on my way to St. Louis to see Black Anthology when the Staff and Administration of my dear place of employment whored me for the pep rally. I really don't mind tho. Really, I don't.

It's funny tho for a few reasons. One reason: teaching has destroyed my voice. Something about speaking loudly aka yelling for 7 hours a day 5 days a week has an uncanny ability of damaging one's vocal chords. Another reason: I'm singing "The Greatest Love of All". Yes, the song that begins with "I believe the children are the future," made famous by the free-basing (we know it was crack), "is that Brandy's brother?" singer, Whitney Houston. (that went over some of yall's heads). And another reason: I'm nervous. For some reason, performing for an auditorium of hoodrat pubescents is a bit more nerve-wracking than talent shows or open mics or [insert past performance here]. No real room for error here. I'd rather do the Apollo with no fingers and a banjo. (That, class, is what we call "hyperbole")

Other than that, I've been stewing on a lot lately. Thinking. (I know, don't hurt urself, Jonathan... too late.) The saying goes that Life (with a capital L) and payback are both female dogs (hmm... are they sisters? mother and daughter? jus girlfriends that hang out on the weekends... ok, i took that one too far). So it's like i'm being dragged by two horribly vindictive canines (again. slight hyperbole. with a dash of melodrama.) But, as my nigga shakespeare said, philosophy is the sweet milk of adversity and i'm sittin on all this until the proper time. Good thing I'm not lactose intolerant.

i hope this is all as vague as i wanted it to be, so as to not compromise my own cancerian need for personal security while satiating my narcisistic desires to keep the blog afloat. (if u can't tell, my sense of humor is, as always, still in tact) :-p


-Call me...? No, don't call me. I'll call u.

Dehan we'alki

"From the moment I met you, all those years ago, not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you. And now that I'm with you again... I'm in agony. The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you--I can't breath. I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating... hoping that kiss will not become a scar. You are in my very soul, tormenting me... What can I do?--I will do anything you ask."

-Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars, Episode II

Blame the Jews

I thought that would be a very inflammatory title. It is not completely random and is meant to be taken tongue-in-cheek. Maybe if ur smart u'll understand why by post's end.

So, I realize that I haven't talked about school in a long while on this thing. Prolly because I try to lock those thoughts away for as long as possible. That said, I felt the need to communicate to the 4 people who read the blog some details from my life, which is 95% school.

Thursday, I threw ("tossed" is prolly a better word) a bagel at a student and it hit him in the eye. Now i'm in a lotta trouble.

Welcome to Tilden. The End.