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.

The Triumvirate is complete

It's been a long time coming, but finally, I can die a happy man. I am now the proud owner of 3 of the greatest pairs of sneakers ever made. Presenting (l to r) the Nike Flightposite 1 in gold, the Nike Penny Foamposite, and the Air Jordan V in black and metallic grey. I'll give u one last look at the soles (consider it a metaphor of some sort).

oh, so icy. maybe now, i can finally save my dough.

It's a sickness. I know.

You don't have to know me for long before you realize that I have a severe addiction to shoes. I'm a "sneakerhead." I can tell you more about tennis shoes than you could tell me about your life. That said, being on salary has not helped my obsession. Indeed, coming back to the East Coast, in the sleeper city of Philly, it's been a little too easy to find the shoes I want when I want them. Once (at the second hand store I shop at), I found the shoes pictured here, a pair of Nike Air Trainer 3's Limited Edition Viotechs (I know, it's sneaker-speak) for $26. $26!! That may mean nothing to you, but these shoes have appreciated to around $250-$350 on ebay, and I found a nice-but-used pair for $26.

Add to all this that Nike decided to release two of my all-time favorite shoes ever within one week's time; so ya boi now has a much smaller bank account to match the ever-decreasing amount of space in his closet.

Regrets? not really. I'm happy with pretty much every purchase I made. Even though you outsiders prolly think I'm crazy. And I am. I realize this. But I love it.

So without further ado, I present to you, 2 out of 3 of my grails, shoes I have longed for since childhood and now can finally bask in the joy of knowing that I own. The third will be purchased by Friday, God-willing.

If you're a sneakerhead and you don't own a pair of Jordans, then you're not a real sneakerhead. If it wasn't for #23, the sneaker game wouldn't even exist. We'd be trading Pokemon cards or something.

As for Air Jordans, we all have our favorites, the XI's are by far the most popular, but for me there was always one pair that I loved and desired: The black and silver V's. With their simple elegance, icy soles and reflective tongue, they were beyond words. If the XI's were the Lamborghini's of Jordans, the V's were the Bentley: stately, refined, and beautiful. Look at how icy those soles are!

I just purchased these retro's this past saturday. One of the happiest purchases ever in my life.

If you're from the Washington, DC metropolitan area, then you know that Chocolate City is the home of the Foam and Flightposites. The first pairs of Nikes fetching for $150-$200, these shoes were part of DC's uniform. By far, the most beautiful out of the entire series is the Flightposite 1. A clear evolution from the previous Foamposite shoes, the Flightposite 1 captured in a beautiful silhouette the form of the foot, not to mention that the original two colorways, gold (pictured here) and eggplant, were equally stunning.

No doubt, it's a polarizing design, but either you abhor it or you abso-friggin-lutely love it, and I love it. I happened upon these on ebay at a very decent price (not $26 though, :-p) and have yet to put them on.

Finally, the 3rd shoe in the triumvirate of grails has yet to be purchased because it has yet to be released. The Penny Foamposites, have the icy soles of the Air Jordan V and the foamposite upper of the Flightposite 1, with no swoosh. These are the only shoes where I can remember the exact time I first saw them on someone. It was Miami, Florida, summer of 1997. I was over at somebody's house and saw a bunch of boys running through the street. One of them had those shoes on. He was gone as quick as I saw him, but the image of those shoes have been emblazoned in my mind ever since. They will complete the triumvirate. That is, unless I get the eggplant Flightposite 1's too. :-p

And oh, did you notice the selvage? hehe... so fly.

You should think about it; take a second... *ding!*

"The Great Artist may in fact be the socially useful narcissist"

"Most people think Narcissism is just being stuck-up and self-centered, but in the extreme it means there is no one else in the person's world with them--intense loneliness."

So, to my fellow Artists, do u have what it takes to be Great?

I think I'm in love

http://www.apple.com/iphone/ipod/

looks like i'll be switching to cingular. (never liked t-mobile anyway)

Blame Jeffrey

so i'm not as much of... how do i say... an "open book" as the young Taylor, but i must admit that reading his stuff, listening to Lupe, Clipse, and others, and the fact that i live by myself (translation: too much time spent thinking) have all amalgamated to end what had been a pretty extended writer's bloc. it's not like i had been tryna write that much, but i was more or less uninspired and unable to produce anything worth looking at for at least a year.

Well, the levees have broken and with them have come all the internal conflicts that breed the stuff I don't call prose. will u understand it? maybe. maybe not. could i make it more understandable and less guarded? yeah, probably. but i'd rather confuse u and leave u conflicted. is that a good thing? prolly not. iunno.

*note*: above is an example of me thinking too much. i digress.

so anyways, i've been writing more over the past 3 or 4 months and blame it on JV Taylor that i decided to put some up here. what can i say, i need an outlet. but i will not give dashiki-and-incense-laden introductions like the aforementioned individual has been known to do. all things are open to criticism (good and bad) and questions and interpretations (but if ur off, i'll let u know).

This one is a lot rougher than the first 2, but i'm bored. wrote it mid-november.

Tilden Dreams

I wonder—with the future before me,
at a desk here, walking there, never silent—
what happened to my dreams?

Wrapped in cellophane or spoiled
(because everything has a “sell by” date,
a shelf life)? There were always many
lofty, as they dreams must be, like an attic
in an old house, or this building where
I stand in front of dreamers who have no idea
they’re sleeping.

It makes sense
that the top floor is off limits. We’re one beneath it.
Besides, it’s filled with feathers
and perhaps the remains of a pigeon or two.
But I will remind myself and my dreams:
even birds have limits, wings can be burdensome,
and that star I wish upon may be filled
with souls that wish upon my own planet from a distance.

So I wonder—with the future before me,
at a desk here, walking there, never silent—
what happened to my dreams?

Like long lines in the cold, breath collecting
before my face to warm the tip of my nose
for a jackpot or an elusive ticket to a candy factory,
were some of them lost
before I had ever discovered them?

With so many black plastic bags tangled in tree branches, I can tell
they never take the time to notice packaging,
and the bags crackle in the wind like blown speakers, like static
from TV. Looking down from my window, I mistake them
for a flock of crows, as I’m sure
they would mistake a crow for a plastic bag in a tree.
It makes sense.

The desks are empty, I cannot hear them anywhere
but in my head. Still, I know that they are speaking
of the past, as the future always does, in spite of itself.

I wonder how long it will take
to sweep up feathers and excrement: the future
is as impatient as a dream.

Call it the "winter itch"

The first day

Some stood like axes on the wall,
Others more like guillotines
I have so much to learn
I stood, the only clean blade in a cutlery
until responsibility forced me to draw blood.
This is not new to you, is it? You expected more.
By day’s end, soaked in red,

I questioned myself.

I am not a soldier,
was never a fighter,
how did I end
up in the midst of a war?

This eighty year old brick building
is a fortress that only contains
the confusion of the street corners;
lives that carry the names of the fallen like their ink-
stained backpacks: those are forgotten too,
left at home.

Aware of their place, they are huddled, looking
like freshly washed swine in a mosque,
and I am a bayonet named Moira.

Lest I forget...

In my rant about music of 2006, I forgot to highlight the fact that DC is (finally) putting out some authentic home-grown talent worth listening to. There is of course Mr "Put Me in the Pocket" Tabi Bonney, but the real breakout is Wale. Dude is a monster. He's signed to Studio 43, the upstart label founded by former Rocafella VP (and DC native) Kenny Burns, and deserves real attention. Download his mixtape (for free!) here http://www.studio43group.com/mp3/hate_is_new_love.zip

and if ur into it, holler at his myspace page, http://myspace.com/wale202. Tabi Bonney's got one too, but i'm too lazy to put a link up. Google him and you'll find it.

The future is here

Happy New Year ppl. Unlike most ppl, this is the final day of my short Winter Break. It felt much longer though and, aside from the fact I didn't get any work done, I have no complaints. Reflecting on the year that was, I thought about a lot. 2006 was definitely a watershed in many ways. I won't add to that; a man's gotta keep some things to himself, right?

So, I have no witty transition, but one of the many things in my head about this past year was "Is hip-hop really dead?" I mean, Nas's (great) album said so, and we all know that we should listen to Nas. And aside from the pure art of it, Rap isn't even selling like it used to. I read somewhere that there was only one multi-platinum rap album this year. ("Ugh!" as Pusha T would say).

And then there's the "future" of rap, Jim Jones (no comment) and DipSet, Lil Wayne, who seems to have fallen victim to his own talent such that he believes he can be mentioned in the same breath as Jay or Nas (maybe i'll expound on this in another post), and is there anyone else worth mentioning?

Well, prolly so. While I'm not sure it was better than Lord Willin', Clipse came hard on Hell Hath No Fury. Too bad it won't get the commercial attention it deserves, which is strange considering they're the ones who blew the doors open on commercialized cocaine rap with grimy rhymes that didn't compromise themselves for commercial success. I'm a firm believer that Lord Willin' is not just a classic but durn near a masterpiece. (Is either The Carter or The Carter 2 better than Lord Willin'? I don't think so, Weezy. And can we come up with more creative album titles, dood? Ur getting lazy like Hov, but you still don't have two-thirds the swagger.) With the exception of "Nightmares," I don't think the beats on HHNF live up to the rhymes.

And then there was St. Elsewhere, the Cinderella album of the year. It was a breath of fresh air from market-driven collaborations and cookie-cutter hip-hop (yes, hip-hop). Cee-lo has always been one of rap's most poetic voices Dangermouse went bonkers, like "tripping balls" as white ppl say, on those beats. It was a masterpiece and a classic. Too bad the media hype frenzy ate them along with their album. "Smiley Faces" shoulda been #1 twice as long as "Crazy." That's not a slight to "Crazy" which--forgive me--was crazy, but rather a nod to how vicious "Smiley Faces" was. But alas, the world is a strange place.

Then there were other albums, Kingdom Come and Hip Hop is Dead along with Idlewild, from heavyweights. The Outkast album was a dissapointment, and even I'll admit that Jigga is rusty. (He's still better than Weezy. "Minority Report," "Lost Ones," "Prelude," "Beach Chair"--i hate the beat, but peep the lyrics--Big Homey did make a mature album. Just that some of it is lazy. Dude's not pushing himself.) But can I give a shoutout to two standouts from both albums...two names: Janelle Monae and Chrisette Michele. All I can say about Janelle Monae is that she's a monster. I remember the first time I heard John Legend's Knitting Factory CD sophomore year. This girl had me feeling as excited as that when I heard some of her stuff this summer (and i was siced when I found the Knitting Factory CD). So allow me to become her hypeman for 2007. And I doubt Chrisette needs a hypeman, she's signed to DefJam. But all i can say is that her hook on Nas's "Can't Forget" was mean and vicious.

And Nas? I may be one of the only ppl who thought his last double album was actually good, but either way, this one is not debateable. He really got it right with this one. It's consistent and the flow--the rhyme patterns and meter--is crazy on some of his tracks.

But still, with all this talk about hip-hop dying, I had to say that there was a beacon of light, the Hip-Hop Resucitator, if you will. Born Wasalu, my choice for hands-down Album of the Year was Food and Liquor. I don't care what you think, if you don't agree with me on this one, you're just wrong. This isn't opinion, it's fact. Food and Liquor deserved 5 mics. Was it a perfect album? Heck nah, but it was a masterpiece. It was the album that bridged the ghetto and the Black middle class. It was critical of itself, its culture, and dominant culture all at once. There were stories, (my goodness, were there stories!), rapper braggadocio, and real lyricism. It was "real" hip-hop. But not in the way that old heads speak of the olden days of A Tribe Called Quest, P.E., Rakim, et al. No, it was real Hip-Hop for a changed people, a changed hip-hop. For the growing number of black professionals as well as those high school dropouts. For the suburban kids who pout when they don't get their PS3's and the kids at Tilden whose parents spend welfare checks on 8-balls (real rap, not making this up). But all in all, it was intelligent, which, in the end, was its downfall. The program directors, A&R's, and music execs still don't know (or want to know) how to market music that you actually have to listen to. Music that makes you think has no real place in our culture anymore, or at least you would think that with all this durn snapping and leaning. I mean really, the only commercially successful rapper in this era of hip hop who could make you think was Kanye, and he (has) had to be a gorrilla (as well as an arrogant butthole) to get there. And really when you think about it, I doubt he'da gotten where he is without being his own #1 fan.

But it's not about Kanye, it's about the Fiasco. I have to admit, I slept on Food and Liquor at first. Although the retail version was much better than the first version that leaked on the internet (thank God whoever leaked it and forced him to go back in the studio. And thank you Lupe for not being lazy and going back into the studio), I just didn't give it the attention it deserved. But as I would play it while I was doing something in my apartment, I found myself stopping here and pausing there, going back to the computer and rewinding a verse like "did he say what I thought he said?"

Yes, he did.

Verse of the year, from "Daydreamin'":
Now c'mon everybody, let's make cocaine cool
We need a few more half-naked women up in the pool
And hold this Mack-10 that's all covered in jewels
And can u please put your titties closer to the 22's?
And where's the champagne? We need champagne!
Now look as hard as you can with this blunt in your hand
And now, hold up your chains, slow motion through the flames,
Now cue the smoke machines and the simulated rain
But not too loud cuz the baby's sleepin
I wonder if it knows what the world is keepin
Up both sleeves while he lay there dreamin
Me and my robot tiptoe round creepin
I had to turn my back on what got you paid
I couldn't see, had the hood on me like Abu Ghraib
But I'd like to thank the street that drove me crazy
And all the televisions out there that raised me
I was...

Like i said, on this one, if you don't agree, you're just wrong. 8-)