Making Grown Men (& Women) Cry Since 1871 and 1881 Respectively

Luckily this Francophile sojourned to the Gallic land pre George W.

You must go this party. Proceeds benefit HBCU scholarships for NYC residents. Purchase tickets online at http://www.naasc-ny.org/

I had a brief contained but intense panic attack today. Maybe I'm not built for this. No. I can't afford to think that way or speak that into existence but I feel muzzled by my own fucking tongue which I accidentally swallowed weeks ago then chased with tall glass of anger and a dash of muted principles. My Still in Love With You album is scratched on "For the Good Times." My Armand Van Helden album, the red one, is scratched on "Flowers" but I'm living and breathing and relatively healthy so I'd have to say it was still a good day.

Just Think,
Geminjah

Are You Free Girl?

Fcck no. Check the shackles on my feet! I owe a lot of folks a lot of things. In lay man's terms I'm not gonna be able to do it. The Mint Condition/Julie Dexter show. The only thing that matters today other than finishing that nagging article earlier. I absolutely adore Mint Condition! Nobody does contemporary R&B better matter of fact nothing better has come out of Minneapolis with the exception of Prince but not Jimmy Jam and Terry. Jimmy "greasy ponytail" Jam and Terry "formerly betrothed to The Superwoman" Lewis are talented (particularly the stuff they did for my girl JJ in the Rhymthn Nation 1814 days) but not as much as my boys. I was kind of happy Toni Braxton divorced old boy so he could return to his duties as anonymous instrumentalist in the shamelessy overlooked band. Stokely's voice is like water (I really want to say "for chocolate" or at least "for cocoa girls" but that's SO corny). Anyway, not to mention I've barely slept in a few days and I look so haggard. If I hadn't lost my last pair of sunglasses and stepped on the other ridiculous Roberto Cavalli zebra printed satin wrap around the head and tie in a bow strapped pair (the oversized Cazal biting Chloes don't count I must have been on a contact when I boug those) I'd wear them to BB Kings tonight so I could ear spy those julep boys and Dexter who is in fact that shit right there, there and there. I don't really like BB King's as a venue. If it was as SOB's or Knitting Factory I'd most definitely go. There I go making excuses again.

I would console myself by listening to the Peace of Mind EP but I left in at Locks and Chops last year organizing for the March and I forgot to go back and pick it up.

Silver & Gold

L & me
Originally uploaded by sherealcool.

Since I just figured out how to use Flickr I guess I'll stay on the photo tip.

Pictured at right is kinfolk/kindred L--throwing up the dub--and I 'round about midnight the night of her matriculation from Spelman College. We both grew up in Seattle's First A.M.E. church but for some reason we had beef (although surprisingly our moms were safe in the street). I thought her name was LeeAir. It's not. Then we were the only two black girls entering the fifth grade of Bill Gates' alma mater. Her mama and exclusively tortilla-and-cheese-eating little sister had me, my mama, and my older sis over for dinner at their house over by Genesee Park. We called a truce and traipsed the carpet hallways in tandem from time to time or e-mailed each other from adjacent computers during Typing Tutor.

Do you know what today is?

March for Women's Lives


Originally uploaded by sherealcool.

It's our anniversary?



Spelmanites past and present in progressive formation!

My Mama's Ethos

1 John 3:16-24
We know love by this, that God laid down his life for us-and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?

Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before God whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and God knows everything. Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God; and we receive from God whatever we ask, because we obey God's commandments and do what pleases God.

Are Your Eyes Still Brown Boy?

To the chocolate boy who duets with Alicia Keys on "Diary": Holler at Your Girl (I won't tell your secrets)



Alicia Keys killed it tonight at Radio City Music Hall. I mean, I wasn't really a fan 'til she strutted across the stage for her nineteen thirties themed show. With this her Diary Tour, Alicia stands on the backs of black performers past/passed like Cab Calloway (She did "Minnie the Moocher" switching it up at moments to "He's a ho ho ho!"). The theme was Uptown Saturday Night--it was a 70's flick, true--but back in the thirties folks went uptown Saturday night too. It was a really diverse audience. Lots of aging white folks, young interacial couples and enough negroes to ensure a fight would break out right when Alicia belted the opening notes to "Fallen." Highlights were my baby daddy (Jeremiah Germaine according to my google search) and Alicia trading verses during "Diary", "You Don't Know My Name" and the opening jazzed up version of "Karma." And please believe the androgynous knee riding kid from that one Cosby Show was holding it down. She claimed the stage, danced, did her, captivated the crowd. She even covered Lady Day's "Good Morning Heartache" and Nina's "I Put a Spell on You," which left a little to be desire but we'll let that slide. She looked gorgeous while also real. You could tell she had a little bit of a stomach and we all know she's thicker than your average. She looked about my size, 6, which made me temporarily reconsider beginning a self-imposed temporary anorexia (Forget what Kanye said, anorexia nervosa IS the no fail get right for the summer plan. "A nigga with a car" would help me get my organic groceries back to BK from Whole Foods Chelsea.

Oh yeah and John Legend was wack!

Celeb sightings were nil but on the semi-celeb front Clark Kent was politicking at will call for some time. I thought he might get left out in the rain but what do ya know before JL started in walked Clark Kent. My seats were better than his. Take that(!!!), DJ to that bed-stuy kid.

Scenes of Subjection

Be forewarned I will be placing ALL home trainingless white kids (numbering in the millions) on citizens arrest. This includes those little white kids who were hitting customers with their absent mothers' shopping cart at Whole Foods Chelsea, the little white girl running across tables as I and my friends attempted to enjoy an leisurely meal in Hanover, NH, the little white boy who bit my play cousin at daycare, and the MILLIONS of other badass white children. This will never make up what was done to Ja'eisha and what continues to be done by the racist media coverage.

I'm damn near suffering a heart attack from dissapointment, frustration and outrage; sentiments that apparently aren't shared by the vacant plasticized "let's lock up all the black children up except for a few tattooed shot up rappers whose savageness will make an entertaining and arousing spectacle" media.

How do you maintain your cool?

It remains a mystery. My ability to feign indifference is key but most of all Ani summed it up in her classic which birthed the subhead of this public journal anti-hate fest. I used to only journal when I was upset or some boy pissed me off. Something about pain brings out that writer in me but I'm humbled by the permanence of any spewed hate so I'm gonna keep it happy go lucky for seven cyber days if only for just a moment.

The Blog is Hot!

The Prefix Blog. 'Nuff said.

God Bless the Child That's Got H.E.R. Own

John over at Tofu Hut has been musi(cki)ng a lot on family. He blessed the blog happy peoples with a brief clip from the brilliant but deeply conflicted comic Richard Pryor. Here's a transcription of the tail end:

A little white kid who lived down the street, hung around, liked the way we talked.
He said, "Really a soul brother fellas. ain't I fellas? Ain't I got a lot of soul?"
"Yeah man, you really a soul brother. Let me have 2 dollars."

Drumroll please. Funny but particularly resonant today having played hooky from my part time while there. For reasons or pure boredom and the desire to be doing my own thing elsewhere (preferrably courtesy of a Mega Million win) I checked out journalist extraordinare Jeff Chang's blog. He had been posting recently about The Source, which, yes, I still enjoy reading. Today he followed up by linking to Hip Hop DX's comprehensive 3 Part Interview with former Source Music Editor Reginald Dennis. In telling The Source's story, Dennis inevitably outlined Dave Mays sketchy character and I can't help but think, from Dennis' accounts, dude sounds a whole lot like that little white kid who lived down the street from Richard Pryor in Peoria, IL.

For all of his love of the ghetto he never learned lesson one of surviving in the hood: Under no circumstances are you to you ever give your lunch money to a bully. It is far better to take the ass whoppin’ than to be some niggas personal ATM. But Dave never seemed to figure that out and that is why he is in the dire straits that he currently finds himself. I once met a man who introduced himself to me as “Dave Mays’ future extorter.” Really, now, is that what you want to be known for? It’s worse than pathetic.

But beyond insight into the Mays and the original Mind Squad, Dennis forecasts a bright future for hip hop culture. A tune seldom heard slipping from the lips of hip hop veterans. "Hip hop is dead," they say. 'The glory days are gone. Revel in the detrituts if you want but your culture, your music, your time is wack.' And along comes Dennis, old school by hip hop accounts but refreshingly new in approach to this officially official cultural behemoth,

Things won’t get better if the best idea that someone can come up with is to try to turn the clock back to 1983 or call the late 80s – early 90s the “golden age.” It’s 2005, and you should be doing your best to make sure that 2005 is considered the best year ever.

From my vantage point I see too many hip-hop intellectuals out here missing the point. I see too many hip-hop elitists who fear change and feel their status as experts will diminish if things move into new and exciting directions. Worst of all, I see too many people wearing the uniform, but who can’t even be bothered to learn anything significant about the culture they claim to love so much. The information is out there, so there is no excuse for ignorance. If you aspire to be a hip-hop journalist, you might want to have a working history of hip-hop journalism. You might want to own a record collection. You might want to have an understanding of the things that are going on in the world today, let alone yesterday. This stuff is important and if you can’t be bothered to accurately document the life and times of your generation and your individual life, then believe me, no one else will. So don’t take any of this stuff for granted and don’t expect someone else to do it for you. Hip-Hop is something that is to be lived, so turn off the radio and the video show and get out there and be about it.”

Faithful to the end.

Return of the Mack

BV Caresses his (Carefree) Curls

There's nothing like a man with an s-curl. At least that's how I felt in my nineties adolescence. I loved it when my Word Up pin up boy, Ralph "fuck an S-Curl I got a conk" Tresvant dipped his chemically straightened tresses in a barrel of water during the over choreographed, stirrup and velvet-loafer filled video for "If It Isn't Love." And then, the pre-teen dream wildy tossed his drenched hair back letting the water drip down his crackishly gaunt frame. Now that's a sensitive man. Texturized crooners like Mr. Dalvin and Devante Swing rocked my little girl world. And then came four pretty boys in the Jackson 5-black boy band template who sang the most beautiful songs. Mista was their name and "Blackberry Molasses" and "Lady" was their sonic game. Except it wasn't game, just surprisingly sincere music but times have changed, Mario's "Let Me Love You" is the closest mainstream music that approaches Mista's dissapearing R&B earnestness. So when I heard Bobby Valentino, the s-curled, extra pretty, front boy of Mista had made a come back after finishing studies at Clark Atlanta University (Sadly, I never ran into him while down the strip at Spelman although I did run into Mase but I'll save that story for another occasion) I dismissed him and then I finally heard "Slow Down." While lyrically it doesn't match "Blackberry Molasses" or "Lady" it's a burner (I wanted to say hot but I'm trying to excise the Paris Hiltonism from my vocab).

In Rotation: Jodeci's "U&I", Intro's "Let Me Be the One" & Joe's "I'm In Luv". A gold star to anyone who remembers Joe writhing on a brownstoned city street in a cross colors esqe vest and matching pants (no shirt though) in the video.

"I be showing niggas lives like UPN"

NOT "Lil' Com I make righteous bitches 'Get Low'"

(See "Get 'EM High for more airing out Crunk King)

Today is all about BE anticipation, music infatuation, and net holleration in this blogerie....

Com's "REAL PEOPLE" is my nomination for "Hip Hop Quotable" whose future I know is in imminent danger. I will really miss The Source since its demise now seems an inevitability but back to Badu's ex: It's wierd hearing the album now but having to wait 'til right around my birthday for the actual release date. Questlove wrote about this once. There is something exciting about unwrapping a CD for the first time that could even compel someone with money to burn to buy CD's all over again just to replicate that feeling, "That Thing".

Here are a few lyrical excerpts (even if this was an audio blog I wouldn't post the audio)

somehow through the dusk I can see the dawn
Like the the Bishop Magic Juan
That's why I write freedom songs
For the real people

I wonder if the spirits of Bob Marley and Haile Selassie
watch me as the cops be trying to pop and lock and me
they cocky
plus they mentality is Nazi
The way they treats blacks
I want to snap like paparazzi
We the children of a better god
searching for better jobs
we can cop ghetto cars
trying not to catch a charge

Can a dude break free and still get honored at home?
I was told by a chief it's the game's nature
When you're glowing some will love some will hate ya
It's real people

No No No

What's the story behind, "No Homo." Can anyone date or explain its usage? More interestlingly can anyone who uses the term explain when, why and how the term became a part of their vocabulary? Are men that insecure about their own identity that they have to couch what they say with "no homo."

Wild Women Don't Wear No Blues

Moyizzle Doing Her Anti-Thug Thizzle

I'm back baby! Bucktown and the web world have missed me (hopefully) but I had to build with a community of forward thinking feminist folk in Chi City or as the #3 bus driver calls it, "the city of broad shoulders". My presentation went so-so, Moya held it the fuck down, as always as did Dr. Beverly Guy-Sheftall. Alii was there as were a multitude of Spelman alums young and old. But that's all I have to say about it. I got to save my words for some other committments. In two days I'll be in Sea-town for the EMP and I got mad shit to do. Pray for me!

Negro Please

"Strippers ain't dead, the hoes is just scared."-Petey Pablo in XXL, August 2004

On the Corner

Never in my life have I witnessed that quintessential ghetto scene (and a particular fav of nineties hip hop video directors) of a brother doing pull-ups on a cross light but whatdayaknow today walking down Malcolm X boulevard from an afternoon at the Schomburg and I saw a young brother, hood but immaculately put together, doing street calisthenics with a Newport in hand.

PS-Why aren't there any black people on The Office (the fat black guy in the background doesn't count) I was looking hard for the Indian woman who was in the last episode tonight but she was M.I.A. Is the whitewash part of the joke? The writers and cast directors funny commentary on color free cubicles in the untelevised world?