this is a bubble monster
this was right before the descent…
Listening: Recoiled by Flying Lotus. Get in on this shit. I swear the spirit of Baltimore snuck up into his veins intravenously when he produced this motherfucker right here.
Reading: new theories on the malaysian flight that got sucked into a the bermuda triangle while it was in the middle of stretching and yawning.
Doing: getting dressed and preparing myself for a night of drinking. my pre-gaming was quite effective (hence the title of this mawfucking post). and my friend i’m heading out with is playing a bunch of FUCKING games making me not even wanna head out. i already passed out pre-game style once tonight.
Eating: burnt up ass Checkers fries i bought from my grocer’s freezer. had to put some kind of starch up in my bod-bod.
Drinking: amsterdam. straight from the bottle. from the mouth of the bottle to the mouth of my lips. my lips don’t have a mouth. my lips make up the mouth. so yeah. from the mouth of the bottle. to the mouth of me. that doesn’t sound right….. (to the mouth of the quillium. to the mouth of this man. to the mouth of THIS NIGGA RIGHT HERE. naaaahhh to MY MOUTH RIGHT HERE [FOR REAL]. from the lips of the bottle to the lips of the poet. from the bottle to the head.
i would love to be generous with some brain right now actually.
Wearing: this fucking thermal because i’m cold. and it’s not even cold in here. alcohol.
Feeling: i know he better hurry up and get here. and because i typed the word “hurry” this entire portion of this entry is to be read in Regina King’s Boondock’s voice.
Weather: it’s chilly outside but it’s nice. like — i should keep this thermal on and a light jacket but nothing too heavy.
Wanting: financial freedom. a financial savior. not to remember everything that’s currently depressing me.
Needing: all of the things that i want. it’s balled into a needwant.
Thinking: i can’t wait to fucking take pictures of Rah! tomorrow.
Enjoying: Rah! and typing this in front of boogie. he’own give a fuck.
Flying Lotus Remix - Let it Go (Reefer)
i don’t know what’s more interesting,
a gritty show of masculinity with wigs and dresses
it haunts me.
in the best way.
I’m sitting in a Barnes & Noble. One with a lot of natural lighting and I chose a seat that is being flooded by sunlight. It’s really plush. Might even be sunken in leathery type of plush. And I’m waiting for him. I’m listening to the kids in the children section; they can be heard chasing each other around, I can hear the cappuccino machine whirring and hissing behind the counter.
Then he walks up to me….
I had a dream just now that there was a deeper bass line to Flying Lotus’ “Getting There” and it sent chills to my core.
I had on headphones so the chills were almost like the chills I get from the warm/cool combination I feel when someone is licking in my ear.
And before I knew it I was dozing. On the bus stop. And I’d stopped breathing. In ecstasy. And then the music pulled me. Showed me that this cuntshitass bus hadn’t showed yet.
I hate this whore of a bus.
Putty Boy Strut
"Until the Quiet Comes"
Snippets of the Entire Album.
Come on October….
… death is definitely a part of the video
I agree that it is a lot to mull over and I haven’t even began to touch the surface of the interpretation yet. I can only focus on the 1:57 mark and it’s progression from there. It’s almost like a mourning. A resurrection and a mourning. A resurrection of more than just a being. A community, culture, lifestyle, story. The way it reaches out and touch and impact an entire community. This is what I meant earlier by what I said regarding my soapbox rant, Lupe, and this video.
Hip Hop, authenticity, purposeful lyricism and musicianship…are things that seem to lack in these particular genres. He wears a shirt that says J.Dilla Saved My Life. He has it on as he’s passing shorty some Cheetos. Simple subtleties “that I haven’t quite figured out yet”.
The music impacted “him” and “he”, representing this culture and society of musical genre, is the last of a dying breed. Just like lupe sat on that sofa weeping over ghosts, as are the members of these communities standing against the wall - Frozen. Mourning. But it’s the music. The pulse. The music which resurrects him.
And when he rises up, it’s his flamboyant dancing, outstretched and limber in form, putting his wounds on display, proudly. Almost as if to say, I died for this moment. I lived and I died…or “gave up the ghost” so to speak. But it’s like Flylo’s music or music in general is what keeps this representation alive. Like…. when he moves past the witnesses, are they staring at the fact that he’s dead. Or are they looking away, in shame because they were the cause of it? and he’s manifested into something even more multi-dimensional than before?
This being. This music. This element, culture, lifestyle.
And yes, it is very much a thing of black boys. I can see that. The irony of youth in gangs, killing each other off to be promoted in hierarchy….not so much a survival of the fittest as much as it is mental or metaphorical suicide. bah.
To me, the water is the heaven. I think the more music evolves, the deeper it goes beneath the surface….