polyphony.

. . .

put down my heart to this page
perhaps to spark the rage of a pain of a man
who's childhood upped and walked away
clips and
parts of days dubbed and mixed with soundbites of night
ten pens for digits that were left undialed
...and
thus i write
this is mine affirmation
a diary of visual vocals
i soak this shit in vinegar so y'all can taste just what i go thru
and
who the fuck are you to question?
fuck it, i'll bless your session
wasted words in the air taste sweet, once they're off my chest, man
they say no rest for the weary
no breaks for the broken,
papermates and bics become dicks to fuck the page with emotion
yeah, i'm totin'
you want guns in my rhymes? i'll sport em
motherfuckers want to be hard? i'll leave you in rigamortis/post-mortem
and more than often
dudes talk shit when they're too dumb to let waste be waste
but i beg you to shut the fuck up if we ever meet face to face
to each his own-
...and this is my zone-
allow me a voice, a days worth of oxygen,
a drum break and a microphone, and i'll bring you home
no writtens cleverly crafted to cop papes
no weak bars, no punch/lines, no guest spots and posse cuts for god's sake
my home is a lonely place
seven deep but eerily silent, i sat in a corner for 20 years telling myself "no man is an island"
picture perfect from the undressed eye
but i have a darkroom with untreated shots on a line in the back- step inside.

verse.

get in line son, i'm second to none/
talk to the back of the mic/stand/back
when i'm flexin my tongue/
grip lungs with my right hand/
and clamp down til ya breathless/
fist deep in your chest, spittin'/
lethal injection-your shit's overdue for inspection/
my dialect never lackin-pristine with the vocals/
this heat got satan sweatin' and murderin' hell's locals/
cats want honesty, i got it,
i'm not the best that ever lived/
but show me the best and best believe i best any verse that he gives/
and yo, any person that spits, leavin' swallowin his saliva/
your image is contrived, i/
make bombs with pen and pads like i'm macgyver/
makin lightwork outta heavier cats who
spit on heavier beats/ with heavier raps
you somehow managed to cleverly creep/
into my section-cross your fingers while i get ugly and handle business/
lines so cold when the dope drops, got fiends thinkin it's christmas

the roots.




so, i went and saw the roots today. again. for like, the 7,451st time or someshit. but yo, it was FREE. so, doubly dope on all accounts.

man...

them cats know how to put on a show. if anybody ever says my shows are good, you can give all credit to the roots, man. seriously. i always try to take as much as i can from the shows they do, mental notes as to how they build energy, hold a crown, WORK the crowd, enter the stage, leave, catch breathers without losing the crowd- them cats do it SO right. they truly ALWAYS put on the best shows of anybody i have ever seen. i still think De La Soul's Posdonus has the illest stage presence of anyone i've seen.

then comes the man up there in the pic.

Black Thought is so fuckin' ill, man. i'm kind of in a rush, so i won't expound too deeply, but understand please, he's unreal. i wanna be like him yo, for serious. nobody is touching him.

*sigh*

i had fun today.


peace.

:cues Be Ever Wonderful:

THAT my friends, is one of the most beautiful ewf songs you will hear. period. it's one of my favorite songs of all time.

*sigh*

the shit they did, man... em effing genius.

anyways- what's the deal? nothing new to report here... i went out today, for a little bit, walked around downtown, met up with my brother and sister... enjoyed the sun... saw this chick who just looked ridiculously good. like,

*RIDICULOUS*

jeez. she must have been about 5'11 or so, she had on these little heels and she was looking me in the face- now, her body, well, i was @ 13th and South St and she was @ Broad and South. i could see from there, she was built by an artist. good grief. she looked mid 20's... gorgeous feet, sexy as hell... her hair was rather big and dumb, but fuck, she was bad as shit. all alone. you know somebody looks good when your mouth literally waters. i mean, damn.

but you know? that's pretty and all, but it's over kill. i wouldn't want more than one uninhibited, lust filled night with her.

i tend to find pretty ladies with a pair of glasses and a bunch of college textbooks much more attractive. don't ask why, i think there's multiple contributing factors to this... but the fact is that i am not driven to talk to jaw dropping jawns. at all. maybe there's some sort of inferiority complex embedded deep within the situation... like, i know in my heart of hearts that she's not having this.

lol

whatever though.

but seriously...

what up?

me-i'm chillin'. had an interview out in fort washington today, that went pretty well. i dunno though, because like- it's a receptionist/admin. asst. position, which is cool in itself- but i'll be dealing directly with drug and alcohol rehab persons. that's some shit man. you know? the need for good phone manner with a calm demeanor was stressed, because apparently some of the folks i'll be speaking to will be irate/stressed/uti/scared/etc. that's understandable, and all, but...

it's like, on one hand, i'm not sure i'm up for shit like that day in and day out. i'm very used to non-interaction in my occupational exploits.

but on the other hand, the focus of this job hits close to home... my uncle was a LONG TIME alcoholic. i never knew until i was about 15 or 16. my aun't got married and he was dramtically drunk that morning... all his sisters and his parents (my aunts/mom and g.parents) were skating around the issue, avoiding it... man, i felt sick. i wanted to get the fuck out of that house... cuz like-

my uncle is the man, yo.

he's alot like me... or i, like him. both musically/technologically inclined... sometimes uninspired to a fault... big dreams. he actually dropped a few songs back in the '60s. post doo woppish shit- i have the 45s. he dj'd for a bit on WDAS-FM. the man must have close to 40,000 records, something i WISH i was able to capitalize on (just to be able to talk to him about them) back then. ...i must be making you think he's dead. he's not, he's laid up in a nursing home at age 52, unable to walk, slipping in and out of comas. that stuff is alcohol-unrelated, but indirectly, i think it has something to do with it.

anyway... he was drunk most of the time i was around him.. fucked his liver up, all that shit. he smelled like the shit whenever i would see him. i just think the job would feel like him... i dunno. hope i get it though. they've got benefits, vacation, all that shit. *shrug*

what else?

hmm... oh yes!

THE ROOTS!!!

this saturday, on 23rd & the parkway. i'm excited.. i really need to see those cats again. they make me feel really good. like, after them i can go home and sleep happily. that should be dope... i just hope it don't fuckin' rain, man. it's supposed to, all these fucking hurricane wannabes want to roll up on the states. *shrug*

regardless, i'm going to enjoy myself this weekend. maybe go buy some records tomorrow- then saturday, get ready to rock.

i feel pretty good today.

this really deserves it's own post.

look at these fucking chimps! (...npi)





the hell?!

aight.

so i finally get around to updating this shit. i'm gonna stop giving projected entry topics, i think that jinxes my ability to follow through. the mos/thought/nas jawn was hard enough.

so like, i want to produce. bad. i mentioned ninthwonder the other day. dude is fucking dope, and it's like- it's just further validation of the little guy as being able to do big things.

so... ((wavy dream sequence lines))

i was thinking on what i'd like to have in my production set up. i want lots of old shit. old beat machines, old samplers, just that shit that made 1990-1996 so dope.

yes. i'm going to list it all.

1. (2)E-Mu SP1200 drum machine/samplers.

this workhorse has been used by everybody from the beatminerz to pete rock to dj premier to prince paul to madlib... the list obviously goes on, and i'm sure you can see the similarities in the sound quality, that crispy crunchy sound that is so painfully absent from today's hip hop tracks. it was actually a weakness of the SP that gave it that sound, it had very little sampling memory, therefore giving the sounds a more gritty sound. it was a 12 bit machine, as opposed to the mpc2000xl's 16 bit sampling power (44.1khz, the same sampling frequency as you would find on a cd) or the mpc4000's 32 bit sampling/96khz. all my drums and shit, and even loops would get run through this thing. runs about $900-1200 used.

i'd still cop this though.

(1)mpc3000.

jaydee did most of the slum village shit on this- it's not just a sampler/drum machine, but also a midi sequencer. dj hi-tek also used this heavily for his exploits- think "respiration". it uses the engine of the akai s3000, very expandable and all that other good shit. it's out of production now, but still serviceable, and capable of dope music. runs about $1800-2200 used.

i want these as well.

(2) akai s950 samplers.




this has basically all the good gritty sound quality of the sp1200, more sample time, another staple in some of my favorite producers' studio set ups. 12 bit, all the good shit. out of production as well, i've seen them run for about $3-500.

i'd also like this.

(2) numark TTX-1 turntables.





um. the shit is ill.

what else?

a good mixing board and some ADATS would suffice for recording purposes. um, lots of keyboards, electric pianos (rhodes/wurlitzer/seq. circuits prophet5/hammondb6/ARP synths. all that good shit, on some herbie hancock/stevie wonder shit.

oh yeah, a shitload of records. 1000's.

*sigh*

eventuals, people. eventuals.

but yeah, 9th is nice, and one hell of an inspiration. thanks man.

i wrote this to this beat.


ayo
i hold mics like my life depends
this is a means to an end keep my cypher tight with my friends
spends hours in the lab with a pen and apad
rewrite history and spit it rescripted this is the math
this how we do it
my life is on the line for this music
if the beat bump the vocals mos def will follow suit its
verse spittin non bullshittin' killin' writtens with the gift and livin like the next minute aint given
cuz if it aint promised
its worth livin for
stackin treasures thru these words so every day im givin more up in the booth
emitin truth thru paragraphs to epitaphs sideways in sanscrit dipped in dope i slam shit
cuz this was simply in the plans
twenty plus in the makin cascaded on the city and sht was mine for the takin
no time for move fakin fakin jax or fakin funk
i'm sicka niggas from the back postin up and tryna front like its sweet scented
leavin facades dented,
you bout to witness mic mastery without no fkin gimmicks
just pass the bone and lemme hold attn like a father with child
twist the planet off its axis just before i flip styles...

i'll speak on 9th Wonder's greatness tomorrow.


peace.

btw:

i finally got the archives working right. feel free to pahrooze and schmooze.

payce won.

nothing spectacular.

i really should be asleep, it's late as hell; but i slept immediately after i got home until about 10, so i should be good. i'll go soon, just felt like airing out some...

you know, all in all, life ain't so bad. it can always be better, but lots of times it isn't as bad as we make it out to be. when you actually sit down and realize that life isn't godawful, it's like having a huge weight lifted off your shoulders.

um, that's my positive thought for the day.

anyway, me and justin (brother/musikal partner in crime) were discussing music equips, and what we needed to make that triton really go... lemme say this. explaining technical things to a non-techie sucks. he's like, "look just let me play some chords man" and i'm like, "dude you need a electroblabbergabber with a oscillating jabberwokkie and a hoot-nanny with audio outputs, a scuzzy drive and a wikkawakkawillieWAnker to hook up the billabongyakkety shmacks!!" i mean, that's what it must sound like to him. lol... i feel bad for him, but i'm being patient and layman's terming the hell out of it all, 'cause we are in it together and he needs to KNOW this stuff. he went to the store to pick up a mixer today, and folks were pointing him in all the wrong directions.

he'll learn though.

hmm.. what else? ohh yeah. this chick who i used to want to talk to caught me on AIM today and kinda hinted at me meeting her tomorrow downtown. i guess i'll go. we talked on the phone like 3 weeks ago... it really sucked, though somehow the convo marinated for a whole HOUR. my phone has this timer on it, and when that shit said 59:53, i said time to cut this short. it's funny, she called, but i was like "alright i'll let you go now.. i'll call you soon..." lol. i know she was like "oh no this negro ain't brushin me off", but yeah lady.

i was. deal widdit.

you've had your hour. depart, please, from the premises.

lol.

but she's cool. she acts young and flighty, so i'm glad i'll be around ppl, cuz *oneonone* with her is a test of one's attention.

updates on that forthcoming.

almost finished my 1st week on the new jibby. look, it's humpday, i can say "almost done" now. but yeah, i'm happy about that, because soon i get paid.

what else?

ah yes.

9/11.

back in the day, this used to be my brother and sister's month. justin turned 19 today, and gillian 17, on the 9th. now it's forever nineeleven. i'm wondering how i can avoid the inevitable propaganda/media/officeconvo bombardment, and i'm thinking that i probably can't.

it's whatever though, that day still fascinates me. i won't be doing anything special though... try to stay away from tvs and radios. newspapers i may peep, but that's it.

hey! thats a topic of dicussion i can use w/miss jawn tomorrow.

"what were YOU doing on september 11, 2001?"

lol...

"...do you remember? the eleventh nite of september?"(c)ewf

maybe tomorrow i'll recap my sept11. day.

maybe.

ok, i'm going to bed now. nite.

being a nigger

the intricate dynamic that is that statement is hard to explain. i don't know if i was ever blissfully ignorant to it, but i might have made attempts at ignoring it.

in this world, i am a nigger. what that word stands for, what it encapsulates, i represent that. and it's fucked up, you know? it's like, you can fuckin' be on top of your shit, and put on your best suit and have a nice hair cut and smile as white as possible but through and fuckin' through:

the nigger lives

i dunno.

i started my job today, and let it be stated now that i work with all white folks, on main st. in manayunk, which is a predominantly white demographic. and that's cool. let it also be stated that, for the record, i haven't confronted any out and out racism/prejudice/whatever. but it's in the fuckin' eyes man, it's like, it's inexplicable... imagine walking down the street at night, and 4-5 yards ahead of you, crickets are singing away. if you know anything about crickets, you know that they will shut the hell up as you pass.

it's wild man...

that shit is worse than someone coming out and getting at you like "oh wow, it's a black guy". this is a temp assignment i'm on, and of course, these people have never seen me before, so they are as clueless as i am about the meeting we are about to have.

they look at me when i hit the 4th floor and i want to spare their eyes, like hey wait a second, i'm a good one hol' up don't worry i'ma do my job see my suit wait don'tcallthecopsssss...

and i subsequently curse myself for feeling like that. but i think it's only natural, human tendency even, to want to be accepted... you know how you get that burn at the bottoms of your eyelids and you feel the tingle in your nostrils that lets you know you are about to cry?

yeah. i didn't, but still. it was there for like half a second. i wasn't in the club, and even though i never was specifically excluded, i know i can't really join.

yo.. i don't give a Fuck what you think, player. that's why niggas these days get so upset when they feel the hot breath of our racial structure. look at dead prez, them niggas talk a whole lotta shit on their album about taking back resources for the oppressed people and shit, but hell, deep inside them cats are hurt cause a white man looked at them wrong, perhaps an exponential form of that "look", but they are responding in anger to feeling less than what they know they are.

simple and fuckin' plain.

i went into a steakshop on main st. and apparently the place was employing crickets. lil' miss behind the counter shut the hell up as i walked through the door, ended up greeting this woman 20 feet from the counter - i got my steak and everything with out a problem... i dunno. i'm not taking issue with these people per se, more so with that racial structuring in which everybody is learning to perform...

i don't know if i could possibly explain it anymore. it's just ill and as much as like the company of similar hued folk, the answer isn't to run from shit.

i wish i knew what it was, though.

anyway.




it hath arrived.


chea.

oh, and, i don't want folks to get the wrong idea about the people i work with. from what i can tell, they are all good people who really don't know any better. and i could say that for just about anyone. i dropped my tongue in cheek shit about just about every race out there, along with other enclaves of society. no one's ABSOLUTELY accepting, and that's whats really sad.

but yo, the TRITON!!!!! demo by january, i hope.

peazy fo' sheezy.

::p a r m a l a t s e s s i o n s::

um, pay no attn to that, or rather, pay minimal attn to it. see, what it is is... i intend to start djing, doing little regular joints where i put people on to some dope sounds. of course, this is all future.shit, but hear me out.

that's what i'ma call it. parmalat sessions. why? well, milk has long been slanguage for dope shit. right? right. so, parmalat has all the qualities of milk (supposedly) but it lasts longer in storage, and it's a lil' healthier. so, parmalat sessions. you know you like it. i prolly didn't have to explain that, but i did.

bite me where it counts.

so yeah. coming soon to my philly heads, dj dave1's parmalat sessions, saturday nights at fluid niteclubjawn(or something like that). i'll do some out of state things too, if it all carries over well. chea.

futuristickysituationz.

but anyway, how about i just picked up a new sound card today? and now my life is changed and stuff? lol.. i had forgotten how dope my storage bins were. plus it's a nice soundcard with goodies attached, so it'll fit well when the beats start getting laid down.

you know what? i was thinking today about my last entry. it's like, in one way, i don't wanna seem/feel weak to my incomprehensible drive, but on the flipsideotherhandreverse... am i denying my own sexual intensity? do other dudes think about this shit?! lol

but seriously.

i dunno. i'ma stick to the rules i laid down earlier, until i feel it's not for me, til i start chafing.

but yo, i'm glad i'm passionate. you know? it permeates into just about everything i do. and that's good. my moves are generally honest ones, ones generated from the inside. i try to be as genuine as possible. there's nothing wrong with that, even when it means i'm bout to fuck the shit outchu.

*wink*

so it's all mega dan stuckie.
the jay oh jumps off on monday, STILL don't know exactly how to get there, but i'll find out eventually. got my soundcard, gonna pick up a midi cable this week prolly, the triton should be arriving very soon, so it's all love in the lab. plus, i just got this nasty ass hate for shitty music, so i'm scheming an attack on the boolsheet.

2003, people.

i promise.

sigh

i suppose i should be happier...

i just landed a little gig, albeit VERY temporary... but it's money in the pocket. i start on monday. it's in fuckin' manayunk, so that kinda sucks, but like i said - it's money in the pocket.

the triton is on it's way... we already recieved the sampling upgrade on friday. my brother and i were in my room, talking last night about what places we would send a demo to. i wanna go indy, so i can see some change for the inevitable dopeness i come with. *wink* i like counterflow, ubiquity, stones throw, soulspazm, and landspeed.
'cause, i mean, i'm serious about this shit. i think eventually, our musical careers will splinter, he won't need me and i won't need him. and that's cool. but i think right now, we kinda need each other, especially since this music thing is an undesireable as far as fam is concerned.

so be it.

it's cool that we can get down together on something like this. life choices and shit.

but, it seems like there is always one thing in my life that's fuckin' up. take my last blog entry. yeah, *that* one. i think that that whole thing has too much of an effect on me, the whole sex drive shit. i mean, when it gets to the point that i lose sleep and my health comes under fire, it's fuckin' dumb. and, at this point, i see no respite from my sexless situation.

so like, what good does looking at pics of naked women and fantasizing about it do? it doesn't abate. by any means. so, i'm not stressing about any more. it's funny, i was talking to a friend of mine, and she was like "just put some ice on it" referring to the ol' tender member. then she said somethng that really struck deep. she said something to the affect that "you don't have any kind of sexual outlet right now so leave it alone". and she's right, you know?

so, i am not sweating it any more. i'm sure the bouts with my overactive drive will continue, but me feeding it and wishing i was involved in some copulation; that's got to stop. i feel weak to that shit, and it pisses me off. i'ma just test myself, see how strong i can be when it comes down to it.

anyway.

i think i'll go take a shower and freshen up, head out to manayunk and see exactly where this job is...

peas and gritas.

ok. so like, can i get candid with you?



por serioso.

i can? thanks.

well-

i really want to have some good, completely naked, sweaty sex. i promised myself some this summer. things didn't fucking materialize the way i had planned.

but yeah. i *really* want to bone. like, today. i went downtown, no real purpose, i really just wanted to get out the house. by the time i hit public transportation, dick is on prowlermode som'n serious. focal point today was the beautiful skins some of these ladies were sporting. ridiculous.

re-dick-you-lick-you-lust.

and-i'm not going to soil this statement with any disclaimers about whitemeat, no discrimination here - but, i'm sorry folks. brown women can't be beat. not specifically BROWN, but black women in general. i just happen to call 'em brown.

*sigh*

lovely.
anyway. coitus is calling my name, like the sirens playing their beautiful songs in odysseus... like, i'm trying to get *fucked*.

lol

i can't believe i just typed that, but as you can see, i'm not deleting it. i'm tryna have somebody put it on me. you don't understand yo. the lust factor is sick. i dunno, this is my libido talkg, please don't let this entry color your concept of the kid. i'm usually relatively eloquent in putting the feelings down in text, but hell. i don't know if the english/human language has the capacity.

the fuckin' female form doesn't really help much. if jawns looked more like the blob, i could maybe forget about the sweet, sweet genitalia... am i objectifying here? forgive me if i am.

argh.

damned if i do, i suppose. don't get me wrong though, i'm not gonna start slangin' the goodlovin' to anybody who offers some reciprocation... but it's the trial of coping with sexual cravings that are beyond the call of duty. plus, i dunno, i think womanlust is much more sexy. dudes are always horned the fuck out. it kinda creeps me out to be on some regular "i'm a guy, and my schlong is throbbin'- MEWANTPOOSY" shit...

that's fuckin' ill... in a bad way...

i feel like i should be above it. it's perhaps my most hated moment of weakness, probably because i'm really at it's mercy when it hits. like, it's always been this way, ever since i can first remember the ol' twitcheroo in the oshkoshbgosh's back in the day.

it hits type strong. i'd rather be taking a shit, and have the world walk in on me. yeah, that moment of weakness is more palatable. this is too much.

but it can't be ignored. i'm in the mood to engage.

nah.

it's beyond a mood. it's more like a state of mind. i wanna suck a toe/nipple/clit.
bad.

the frustration is setting in. i'm bout to throw them titties back up in here.

um.



we ordered it today.


yo sun.

heads ain't reddy.