polyphony.

kinda excited.

so.

my brother and i are thinking about some equipment to make music with. not a whole lot, becasue we simply cant afford it. just enough to get the ball rolling. besides, i've been told by reliable sources that it's not really what equipment you have, but what you do with it. pete rock pushed pure unadulterated genius out of a few keyboards, some sp1200s, some turntables and a shitload of good records, in his basement. master p has an incredible professional-quality recording studio in his house. professional.

get my point?

yeah.

bout it bout it vs. straighten it out.

so, with all that being said, here's the equipment we are considering.



that's the Korg Triton Le. a trimmed down, less expensive version of the Triton. it's dope in it's own right tho, especially seeing as how we aren't jaded musicians, but a couple of kids with lots of ideas and little experience. oh, and ESPECIALLY after making some okay sounds with this cat.



that's the yamaha psr-225, and it's basic as sheet.

so like, the triton le samples, sequences, basically, it's a all in one workstation/studio. that has some positives, and some negatives. the negatives aren't so paramount right now, because as i said, we are beginners. i'm not gonna list all the good shit about it, if you want to know, click on the pic. it'll take you to a good review.

(*singin* dayb knows htmlll..dayb knows htmllllllll..)

but yeah. since we'll be sampling heavily from wax, i also want this.



the stanton str8-100.

basics-hi torque/33-45-78rpm. S/PDIF digital output. reverse mode. key adjust where i can change the tempo without changing pitch. it's dope folks. and it looks really good.

those are the main components for now. the triton uses smartmedia, and is SCSI capable, so cd burners and harddrives are eventualities. i'm going to be living with this shit soon.

BEATSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

peace.

sometimes

the internet SUCKS.

dream.

there was
a searing of conscience
my conscious forgets
i am
one fifth of a man-

last night i awoke dreaming

-fantasizing, perhaps

i was bathing in a poem
naked
amongst my own pennings and
unraveled
in my ramblings

a black and white torture

i could only speak in reverse

. . .s i h t e k i l d e d n u o s t i

suddenly my words had new meaning
and the stars gave attention
a cluster of luminous malcontents
outside my window
and
my speech was
casting shadows that danced in circular
about my bath of script

faith was auctioned early in the proceedings
and fear has penetrated,
no prophylactic

the words silently assembled about my throat
celestial bodies absolving themselves
and
i begin to drown in my collection of pronouncements

...there was
a searing of conscience
my conscious forgets
i am
one fifth of a man-

and revealed through a twilight fantasm
to be nothing more
than a loquacious miscreant
skilled in
stealing women's hearts
and sterilizing them

i wrote my obituary that night
only now
i've learned to read it.

today is an absolutely disgusting day. it's been dreary and rainy since i got up.

so like, i'm at the library.

good news. got called today for a *local* interview. that's hot. 3rd and Bainbridge. that's cool as well. i'll probably have to finish the rest of this entry at home, the library closes early today. but i got an interview, so i'm a tad stoked. chea.

::in wonderment::

ok.

so i'm not as religious as i could possibly be. i mean, who is. there's always that extra bit you could be doing... but hey. my cognizance of things in that realm isn't lacking for much. i wonder though, if i should feel bad about wanting to avoid someone because they tend to drown you out with their faith?

take my homie for instance. i love this kid to death, that's no disclaimer either. just a fact. he reeks of a newfound disposition as far as God is concerned, and it's like.. it's ill man. i mean, it seems to me that the strongest faiths are understated; they don't feel the need to prove themselves. i dunno. regardless of what's going on with him, though.. that's still my ace.

*shrug*

just wanted to get that out.

anyways - nothing particularly new on the horizon. lotsa my peeps are heading back to school. *waving bye to you guys* that basically kills contact with em, 'specially since they are of that age where college is waning and it's time to get serious. i'll stay out of their lives, so i'm doing my part in fostering their concentration. 3 points for me.

and to all my homies who read the jawnt like a good book on a rainy saturday night-

What the QueenMother EFF is up?

chea. shouts to all my people.

so like, i want to put on 20 - 30 lbs. by next summer. get@me if i'm wrong for wanting that.

um.

yeah.

that's about it. i'm out.

pace.

i come from a land where
aircraft is monolith's aftermath and
the paths of men
are littered with the skin and tears
of murdered tomorrows;
enveloped in a cold embrace
and politician's promises
are rose petals in jezebel's bed
where death has gift wrapped the
present
with the scent of his moment
and pastors preach non sequitur prayers
to pews
filled with the complacent and confused

so i'm editing this post.


the tits were ok for a day. time to bring it back to reality.

blue.


i'd be content
swathed in a timeless embrace
but my skin longs to ignore your fingers
-commandeering
an assault on my countenance and
i
being a frail
soulless
wanderer on your path...

bah

this is a midnight's fallout and i am
a forgetful soldier
amidst a battlefield of memories
and
there is scorn borne
from the throat
of an everpresent conscience.

...this is an impatient moon i'll sleep by

and i shall share wistful prayers with the closed doors of my lips
a beseeching of grace
and perhaps the balm of summer night
will hum my melody

i write simply the transcript of a skipped heartbeat
two measures missed
for the sake of a monochrome dream

my clock strikes blue;
so i've affixed your kiss to my pride
and swallowed them whole
and here
i'll
stand

so.

this lady i used to dig alot gives me a call at about 9:30... i'm completely thrown because i had no idea about her even remembering me.
i mean, it's not like she just came out the blue, we had discussed the phone call prior, but i really didn't expect her to follow through.

i must say though, i'm thoroughly unenthralled with my relationship situations. i doubt anything will pan out with her, because i tried to make it jump off before and it didn't... and i don't know how interested i am in doing the dance again with anyone.

blech.

i'm going to bed.

it's so hot.

the midday heat is absolutely the worst.

...i wrote something yesterday, just a simple freestyle. i followed someone else's lead and laid down some thoughts. this is what i came up with.

all i got left
is this semblance of sanity
and a susan b. anthony-
i'm losin my family
losin my soul
losin my religion
it's days where i stalk the cement lookin for brethren in pigeons
i'm on a mission
wickin' pain out through papermates and pads
scared of tomorrow cause i see myself actin more like my dad
so i write
and i write and i right
and somehow i still feel wrong
hunger pains is hard to swallow when the stomach lining aint strong
it's been too long i need an intermission from all this bullshit i'm dealin with
been swingin on the world since sixteen i wonder if they feelin it
if they feelin me
my conscience is drillin me
"motherfucker react, shit ain't sweet"
3 in the mornin tryina convince my rhymes to stay on beat
cuz if this rap shit don't move shit then i'm shit outta luck
if i could wipe the water off my hands i'd have the world in my clutch
i swear
ayo the world needs to hear
i'm but a voice in the crowds
but it seems like, like if its on point? time stops when i read my shit aloud
and if i spit it, shit it
only gets better
i inject rhythm in to bad bones
craft poems to reverse the weather-

frak said he was a soldier.

and i feel that, i feel it to the innermost-
but it's like we warrin' for peace, though and that ain't how it's supposed
to be
blessed with the curse of rhythmic verse. but i wasn't handed no mics,
i don't rhyme because i wanna! this shit's been installed in my life
and so i live it, i have no choice it's part of the bigger plan
so now me and my reflection fighting in mirrors to see who's the bigger man

and damn...

i have pockets overloaded with passion,
and if channel these scripts i'll be the world's antibiotic
but i struggle to dress My wounds, slow to action- cateracts upon the optics
just gotta
dress my feet with "no one can stop this"
take a bite of "it was written",
dippin b&w compostions in my blood sweat and tears, affixing them to my fists and

well, that's just the status quo

'till mountains move at my behest
i'll be putting words to page, kid - finding relief from all this stress.

and you know what?

within those lines is the most honest output i've allowed in a long time. it starts becoming a literary work with all its' wonderful embellishments by the last 7 lines or so, but that first paragraphical body is truth. even down to the susan b. anthony dollar i have.

i don't want much. i mean, millions of other kids my age have it. take my boy for instance...

this cat gets put on by his dad something serious. duke gets a paid for apartment in university-city, gets his tuition paid for community, gets like a $300 allowance every two weeks, not to mention if he runs out, his dad would hook him up... his dad is covering all this for him. granted his dad makes a good buck, but still... my friend finds some way to piss his dad off enough to take it all away. dude had the ULTIMATE freedom, but i saw him in action and he did Dumb shit all the time. he would go to school high, he would get drunk in his apt, leave the 40 bottles around and then his mom would come through and see it, he would spend ALL of his money on women, (and then come to me and ask for a 10spot or tell me how to deal with women) and he would come this >< close to failing out of school. he didn't work. he didn't have to. his dad refused it, because he wanted his son to concentrate totally on school.

wtf?

i don't want that. for real, last thing i want is my dad TOTALLY and absolutely supporting me, but that situation right there is type lovely and he screws it up. so his dad kicked him out.

all i want is an ok, stable job, and the ability to see to my responsibilities like a man. i can't seem to get it. my boy wasn't prepared to handle complete freedom, i am, but i can't get a hold of just a taste of it.

blah.

and then there's women.

well, one woman in particular. i swear, i dead shit in her name, mad possibilities, for the thought of maybe being able to wake up to her one morning... but last night some shit happened and i now feel like i'm getting played. she calls, we talk, yadda yadda... she's like "yeah, i was at this poetry spot and there was this guy tryna talk to me, but me and this other guy was exchanging looks and he was all in the way of us"

am i wrong for not appreciating that?


i dunno, maybe you had to be there. i don't keep track of the hours, but jeez, after you hit a certain milestone, you be come cognizant of it all - the time and resource i've invested in this lady is piling up. i'm not trying to smash- i just want some exclusivity. and i'm not getting it. i'm exclusively hers, whether she admits it or not, whether i do or not... the fact that we roll so tight has made it difficult for me to allow anybody else into my life...

i've already written off one WONDERFUL person in her behalf. maybe there was some miscommunication somewhere along the lines so that i'm thinking we are building something but she's thinking we are just really good friends.

but whatever yo. i'm not pushing the issue anymore. i've stated my case; now i'm pulling back. cuz it's not just this, but certain things we've talked about, and she's popped off with some off the wall shit.

she called back later that night, and was getting all cozy in my ear... it was hard as hell but i gave the cold shoulder to her... she fell asleep on me, so i hung up.

man, fuck that.

i guess it's just a combination of things that's making me so dramatically reactive, but hell- that's what i'm going through. deal widdit.

it's back to singleness, jawn- and we can be friends, if that's what you want.

ok, fuck it i tried


::warning. this is a rant::

i tried to get through my threeparter about my favorite mcs before i threw down this entry, but it just didn't make any sense to wait until whenever to speak on this.

as you all know, i went to new york city on wednesday to see these fucks for an interview. ok, like, fuckin' manhattan and shit. i'm up at 4.30am throwing on the good shoes and shit, adorning my skin with the smellgoods (nah, not cologne, i don't really fuck with that shit) and getting crescent fresh for these motherfuckers. i'm out but 10 minutes to six, and off to the R7 train headed for trenton new jersey. so i ride this shit all the way up, hop on new jersey transit and i'm on my way to new york city.

yeah, we pull in to penn station @ 34th and 8th around 8:18am.

so i get off, head for the a train going downtown, board that, get off at fulton broadway nassau, and transfer to the 4 train, which lets me off in the financial district, right near my destination. sounds relatively easy?

hmm...





yeah. it's complicated.

but whatever, i made it in time, shot upstairs to the 16th floor prepared to sell a hooker some pussy(c)manny fresh(which btw, i think he was biting off some dope lines jayz dropped on blueprint, it's not hard to come up with those jawns, but the concept is what's so dope, and manny bit it, i'm sure of that; i only used it cuz it was pretty funny)...

get there, fill out some papers and take these tests made to weed out morons and shit, and go in for a quick interview.

wait, quick?

you ask me to come 150 fuckin' miles for a quickie?

BullFuckin'Shit, maybe?!

so yeah, "we'll call you before next tuesday yaddayaddamotherfuckinyadda"...

and i'm released.
yeah. i got called up to get screened. BLECH!!! *nulling and voiding shit i was telling folks for the moment* wtf. i mean, it's not ALL bad, i still could very well have a dope job by next week, but there are feelings i get after interviews, when i know what the basic 411 is- good or bad. this one just left a nasty taste in my mouth. uckh.

i'm past hating this shit. i LOATHE looking for work, 'specially now that we are suffering the post-apocalypse syndrome, where everybody is afraid to move... i mean, this has seriously been the worst summer of my life. you know why? Unfulfilled potential. i mean, time runs out man, and i've been absolutely motionless for god knows how long... i know it doesn't all revolve around having a job, but jeez k. rhyst it helps. i may have made things sound less promising than they actually are, it was a pretty routine interview actually, but i want concrete shit when i travel hundreds of miles at your request, motherfucker.

i'll keep updating the journal as to what goes down with that.

on the upside though, i am recieving lots of responses locally from my resume... least it won't cost me close to a hundred bucks to get screened when they are in the 215.

but gotfuckinDamn i wanted to throw some shit up in my dad's face, man. i know, i'm spieful/evil maybe... i love my dad, but he's been in my ass since not too long after my birthday... i'm just ready to really move the fuck along.

*SIGH*

so i went to brooklyn after the i-view and messed around in flatbush until i went home. twas nice.

sketch lyrics so visual, they rent my rhyme books in your nearest home video.



that line is from mos def's black on both sides album, the song title- speed law.


mos is one of my favorite mcs for a plethora of reasons. he crafts incredibly intelligent verses, has a very distinct yet smooth delivery, can tell a story in song a and then just drop a dope battle verse in song b... sometimes his socio-political messages are a bit abrasive, but a few listens and you'll know the words, and even want to sing along. he basically does what he wants with a larger scope of the english language than most other mcs, and he's fuckin' good at it.

another reason why i like him alot: holie crap, dude's got style.


style out the Ass.

cause, i mean, that's me an' shit. you know? i got style. i can't always capitalize on my stylistic endeavors, i mean, i got expensive taste- but the way he pulls it off is very inspiring. i dunno, he can dress. what.

more importantly, though, and probably the most attractive thing about him is that he has his hand in a lot of shit, not just simply rapping. yeah, i wrote about this before in the old diary, but i'm saying it again cuz this is pt. 2 of a 3 part series about my favorite mcs.

but yeah.

as far as music is concerned, he has a rock band out, not sure how good they are, but i trust that improvements on whatever their sound is are probably inevitabe. he sings. he plays the keys/bass guitar/drums. then on top of that, he acts. relatively good, too. he was in a play,Topdog/Underdog (which i missed, and was thoro'ly pissed about). i just think that is really dope, and it's inspired me to avoid pigeonholing myself to one aspect of my dreams. even if i'm dope as 2 fucks, who says i can't be dope outside of mcing?

so yeah.

mighty mos is the fuckin' man.

i'm a sky scraper by nature.


that's black thought up there, and that's his line too. true heads will remember that line from lyricist lounge vol.1 stretch and bobbito freestyle, the very last track on disc 1. that's my motherfucking man, yo. not personally of course, the closest we've ever been to one another is passing each other on walnut st. but dude can rhyme man. it's funny, i remember getting hella discouraged when i read a story on him back in 1999 in the over/underground issue of the source. i think it was the october issue. he was talking about how "niggas can't even freestyle about some non rap shit, they couldn't spit a freestyle about the shit in this room" effectively saying that cats who lack freestyle game aren't true emcees.

i was like FUCK!

so of course, ever since 1999, i've been honing up on the freespits.

but whatever. i'm talking about him tonight because dude really gives his all at a performance, he's the epitome of what i wanna do when i take the mike. i remember the show at the trocadero in philly, he came on the stage in th e fucking dark and just blew everybody in the area away with this sick ass verse. i was like, "thought's the fucking man." period.

later on in the show he would go on to sing. i was blown. he's a real workhorse cat, like, he doesn't get respect off of a particularly dope line he dropped, or because he is on the radio and moving massive amount of units, it's basically off of the fierceness with which he spits, and the quality of his stage show. he works for his, probably more than ANYone else in this whole rap thing.

believe me, any accolades he recieves? he deserves.

i mean-


that is just the fucking sickness.

and that beard be healthy as SHIT!

lol...

peace.

hola, from the city that loves you back.

what's good, futhermuckers?

must say, i rambled on and on to cats about the possibility of me moving to brooklyn... i probably shouldn't. i'm scared that i'll talk about it to no end, and then i'll end up not going and looking like a fool for catching crows and making meals out of them.

blech!

the hope is on, though. if i work hard enough, it can be done. but i have to decide, i mean, am i really going to devote the required energy to move up there? and i mean, what for? it's not like just because i move up there i'm going to automatically get a record deal. it's a city, just like philly is.

am i trying to be a corny ass new york city transplant, so i can claim it?

man, fuck that. i'm from philadelphia. i love this city. much more than i love new york.

just look at how gorgeous it is. i'll never give up that birth right, kids. this city has sculpted me, and i owe everything i do to existing here. i mean, there are subdivisions of my debt, but just being here and growing up here and falling in love with my hometown is responsible for alot.

and look.



it's just fucking majestic.

here's ellwood elementary.



i didn't actually attend this school, but when my older sister went, i remember coming in to pick her up with my dad, and getting milk and cookies, and particpating in their naptimes. musta been like 1984 i guess.

my old highschool. martin luther king hs. yeah, i attended that shit. blah. philly heads know why i blah, but blah ANYway. but seriously, that school really had alot to do with what i am today. the people i met, the things i saw, the person i became. haines and stenton ave, kids, believe it.

check. the high school i should have graduated from. this is the high falutin' rooty tootin' high school for engineering and science, located at 17th and Norris sts, in the heart of ghetto ass north philly. i liked the school, but i wasn't ready to get off my ass and work, so i got kicked out after my sophomore year. blah, once more. blah.

this is my college, community college of philadelphia.

*sigh*
can't seem to finish that shit. 2year college, i started in 1999.

*sigh*

moving on...

south street. pearl. place where i've racked up many an art supply for my graf endeavors.

ehh.. am i slothing up your computer yet? shit, i didn't even touch west philly, google was actually showing signs of weakness when it came to finding shots of 52nd st. but you get my drift. i know the town like i know my name. it's part of me. and bedford stuyvesant, brooklyn; manhattan, chicago, l.a., they could never change that.

if you were a 21fiver you would understand too.

things could be looking up.

like, waaay the hell up. why?

well, i'll start at tuesday, aug. 6th. i decide to register with monster.com and see how they worked, since bullshit ass careerbuilder dot com was fronting on getting me some results.

so me being as desperate as i am to get shit moving, i register, load up my resume, and bomb the shit out of every clerical/data entry/administrative asst. postition i can find in philly and new york city, because i see myself living there relatively soon.

relatively.

anyways, by wednesday, my hotmail inbox is peppered with responses from a few jobs- "hey, we are interested, hit us up, blah blah." it's cool, it's all like primerica stuff, insurance sales. at least i'm getting some response, right?
so that's good. props to monster for making things happen.

thursday afternoon, i get a call from a staffing agency. i'm giddy as fuck. they ask me to come in to speak w/ a recruiter. i'm like, sure. so we set it up for next wednesday, i want this shit to happen, so i'm like, "early in the morning, 9:30am, let's do this!!!" fine. so she gives me the address-

14 wall street, new york, ny.

...why'd it have to be in nyc, y'all? this is what i'm thinking. 1st off, i'm in philly. to make it to manhattan by 9:30 is just a bit crazy, seeing as how i would have to basically start getting myself ready by 4:30 that morning. it's 3:30am as i type. ok? but big fuckin' deal. whatever. the real shit is that if i was to land a gig in nyc, what the hell? am i supposed to be homeless until i save up enough dough to settle in?

shit!

so i'm like fuck it, i'm going anyway. whatever.

i talk to a friend tonight, and she's like, "well when are you trying to move? i got something in an email-" and it's a room that's up for rent. specifics?

"The apartment is 3 bedroom/2 bath(I have the private bathroom),3rd floor unit of a 4 floor apartment building located in Bed-Stuy(Malcolm X Blvd btw Macon and Halsey). Nice sized living room, small den area and kitchen. 5 blocks from the A/C line (Utica St. Station)."

bing!

they (the roommates, there's two of them) want a roomie by september. there is a catch, i'd need about $1050 by september 1st which is ALOT to ask of myself. but anyway, it would be a dope set up.

"Room is about 15x20, carpeted, unfurnished, has cable jack, no phone jack though(you'd be responsible for that). Unfortunately there's no closet in the room itself either, its right outside the room in the hallway."

the fuckin' room is 15x20? as in feet? email me and tell me i'm a dumb ass if i'm wrong for thinking that that's rather large. anyway, i'm type happy about that. the rent is $525/month... depending on what the imagined gig would pay me, that can be done.

is this falling into place or what?
plus she tells me that she's trying to get up out of her place by january. like, i could score her spot maybe. but that's futureness. right now, though- thangs look like if shit goes right, i could nail this shit on the head.

dunno, i was born a fucking dreamer. shit ain't changed cause i'm older. i'll keep you updated, though.

yo... love is some tough shit, man. i'm not a tear shedder by nature, but the past couple days have had me wanting to shower the length and breadth of my existence with 'em.

the situation is too involved for me to want to even attempt to explain, but the point of it is that it's fucking heart wrenching. i used to be loveless and used to being solo, and i'd hear other cats talk about how they missed their girl, how they just broke up, i could never comprehend the seriousness of these scenarios, but i knew i wanted to partake in shit like that, so i could have some stories.

now i comprehend, and i *DO NOT* envy those motherfuckers. at all. this taste of the shit inhabits your mouth every morning, plagues your thoughts all fucking day, and blocks sleep at night. it's wild. especially when a person means SO much to you. i'm hoping i can deal with it, and i'm hoping she can too.

i'll probably cry about it tonight. hopefully that will be it.

um.. what else? AHH YES!

InI.

let me just say this. pete rock is a fucking GENIUS man. ok, take nothing away from the greatness of other producers. premier is arguably a genius too, as is jay dee (ummah, not fucking jermaine dupri.), madlib is unreal, and prince paul is ridiculous, marley marl's sheer discog. speaks to his genius; he masterminded some of the most important hip hop hits in history... but for sheer beat construction- i truly believe pete rock is untouchable. we all know about his usual jazzy style, downbeatish groove shit. but yo- he can do premier type bangers; the shit he's done for UN. "cake" is such a banger, not really a party banger like "ante up", but it's definitely a good thugged out track.

...look. pete is a genius, ok?

take the kids' word for it. sample flipping, basslines, choruses. you can't touch him! anyway- InI's Fakin' Jax is one hell of an incredible track. i was listening to it today. all i could do is shake my head and listen to it. i really can NOT wait until the new petey/c.l. jawn drops. c.l. himself said that he was the "best that ever did it on a pete rock track" and dude is right, yo. that shit is going to be NUTS!!!

but back to InI.

square one, microphonist wanderlust and to each his own are dope tracks too. the discerning ear will recognize the square one sample as having also been used by camp lo on their debut album, in the song sparkle. anOTHER dope track.

what can i say, the kid is good to his readers.

i'd love to spit on some pete shit. my ultimate dream though, is to maybe one day scale the wall that is his skill in music production.

someday, hopefully.

peace.

*blaOw*

back in the house. so i'm watching reruns of real world new york, and it's making me SICK how these cats are fucking over this dream job they have!

lemme break it down.

1st of all, they are living in this ridiculous triplex thing in the motherfucking MIDDLE of manhattan. ok? then they get this dream job, something i would love to be doing. they get to do a+r type shit for Arista records. now, i mean, that's not what i see myself doing forever, i'm a musician, but that's resume fodder. that's experience. that's free access to a industry leader's studio. that's fucking connex. to see these lazy ass motherfuckers piss all over that job is making me cringe.

i don't get breaks like that.
ah well, eff it. i like struggle anyway. as long as i am making considerable progress, i can deal with struggle. like, i chill on the lesson board at okayplayer.com a lot, and there are alot of heads there that do the music thing, like i'm trying to do. i catch inspiration from them, them cats are my heroes. like these guys.



dujeous, or



little brother.

thos cats inspire me because they are doing it up the hard way, making inroads for themselves. and their music is GOOD as well.

remember those names, kids.

i think i'm going to go out and do something, just take a train ride or something. i have a meeting with shitty ass UPS monday night, and i need to do some thinking so as to NOT allow myself to get caught up in some forever shit with that job.

peace.

i know, i know. i'm posting like crazy.

fuck you.

anyways, i'm like geeked out over this html/css/whatthefuckever shit. yo, i'm going to throw down one i get this shit down pat riley. believe it.

truth is, i've been wanting a website for so long, all this blog/diaryland/blackplanet bull caca is just a collection of placeholders and bargain basement tutorials for fucking around with some realness.

look, what can i say. i rub elbows with webmasters and shit everyday. i'm enamored, so sue me.

so i'm sitting here learning the basics of hypertext markup language, reading this huge websites for dummies text, and making random quantum leaps along the way, editing mad webpages in netscape composer and windows notepad; the poorman's class to dubbayoodubbayoodubbayoo greatness.

it's type late, but i'm having a hard time giving a fuck. the hour in which i am typing probably explains my coarse attitude and my rather profane rhetoric.

whatever though, i'll stick a "fuck you anyway" in there for good measure.


ok, back to learning.

btw, i don't know how much i like having my government handle up on each entry. besides the fact that i don't particularly like the name, and that it looks kinda corny, i don't really want folks knowing the secret to the mystery just yet. anybody who knows how to change that shit, click here to getatme.

it's late, about 1am here.

i was supposed to go to a dj competition with my man chris, but the shit fell through on my end, so that's that with that.

it's friday. i should be out enjoying myself. i'm 22. i'm a young, healthy, okay guy. that's all great and whatever, but damn. i should be out, mingling with beautiful women, politicking it up, smiling and having a drink or two, staying the fuck out of trouble, enjoying life.

but no.

i've spent the last, say, 20 saturdays, prolly more, doing things similar to what i am doing now. staring at a computer screen in the dark, typing away, boring myself to the point of lackofmotion sickness.

all i can say is, i've got to move out, make some stuff happen for me. i gotta get my own place.

yo... i need some of this-


in my life.

bad.


dunno if we can throw up tawdry pictures on our pages up in this biatch, but if we can't? fuck it, i'm breaking the rules. she looks really comehither right there, and hell. i'm a m but a man.

gahtdamn.

anyways, with the posting of that there picture, i'm thinking i'm going to love this blog shit a little.

yeah, so-

i'm back.

eh. this is ok, i guess. this whole blog thingy. i might eventually start up a new diaryland acct, in fact i probably will, depending on how it looks in here when i throw down a verse or two, but later for that.

so.

i haven't updated an online journal in months, i've got to have some news, right?

yeah, i guess i do.

i'm about the music right now, strong as shit. unfortunately, kinda, i'm really about production, therefore i've been slacking on my writing. for those of you new to my ramblings, i am a self proclaimed mc. a few random heads that are close to the source call me one, too- but total validation has yet to surface.

there's no rush on that, though.

you know? i can wait. i have a five year plan, in which i intent to manifest the musical/lyrical goodness hundredfold or so. it's me and a couple of likeminded individuals who are about some takeover shit, so the only thing left is to do it.

so yeah, that's my little dream, my smile when my life is frowning. music. hiphop. alladat. you'll notice in the links over there, a few links that will take you to people i aspire to have in my concerts, cheering me on because they love my shit.

pete rock- one of my favoritest producers ever, i can listen to mecca and the soul brother and main ingredient OVER AND OVER again. main ingredient is one of the albums i would take with me if i could only take 5 on a deserted island to starve and die listening to.

mos def- one of my top 3 favoritest mcs. i'm not going to explain all the reasons why i like him, i might get tyoe stalker up in the shit, but bottom line, duke is nice, so he gets my utmost respect.

the roots- okayplayer is their website, these guys helped lead me into a new world of aural goodness, so i am forever indebted. we are all philly cats, so i feel kinship, and black thought is the on of the other two of my favorite mcs. (nas is the third. nasty nas.) that site is type important to me; i'll gladly admit it, i spend hours on it a day.

i mentioned that i'm an mc; i write poetry, which, if you check the archives link, will take you to my old diaryland account, which is chocked full of my semi-poetic ramblings. i'd eventually like to get published, but that's another dream for another day.

right now it's music.

hm... what else? ah yes.

women.
i'm crazy about the opposite sex. and i like sex. alot. perhaps i should not get myself started on this subject, but hotdammit, i likes the girls.

ANYways...
i've named this blog the come up diatribe because that's exactly what it will be, as you soon will see. it's all about come ups and how i'm trying to achieve them; that's the bassline to this symphony of keystrokes.

...i've run out of shit to say.

goodbye.

(We B)log. yes indeed we do.

to all my diaryland friends, i'll miss you. well- i can still read your shit, but no longer am i a part of the okayplayer webring.

well...

my diary is. but i'm not. you see, i forgot my password; the email i registered to diaryland with was my old job email, which no longer exists... you can do the math. i tried getting my password back, and i couldn't because i can't access that email anymore.

blah.

so i'm here. the stock templates are better than diaryland's, lotta folks only fuck with blogspot, so i'll give it a go and see what becomes of it all. that's it for now, i just wanna see what this shit looks like when i publish.