An Eye Is Upon You ...

I don't do year-end wrap-ups. I attribute part of that to the fact that I have developed a pretty bad memory. Many people can look at where they were on January 1, 2008 and say, "Damn, I've come so far and changed so much." Me, I can't even remember how I spent New Years '08 [it was in Michigan ... either at home, with my mom, or somewhere else with my ex. I'm leaning toward mom's, because I remember watching Robbie Maddison's world record jump from home]. Don't get me to lying about what I "resolved to do" in 2008 that would change me or make me so different from who or what I was in 2007. I have no clue what it was. I don't even know if it worked.

All I know is that in 2008 I lost a girlfriend - long distance - to a tough relationship, a cousin - in prison - to an infected bullet wound, and another part of my mind - a significant chunk - to law school. If that's all I can care to remember, then so be it.

So what does 2009 bring? A lot, and not just because I sat up on New Year's Eve and made myself believe it. I graduate law school in May and begin preparing for the bar immediately after. In July, I take the exam. Soon thereafter, or shortly before, I'm moving almost blindly ... again ... to start fresh in a new city and new state. I'll be going in on the purchase of a new place to live - no more renting. I'll have a new car [as my baby is slowly dying], a new job, and new experiences to be had. And all of this will happen before I turn 25 in September. Who knows what happens after that. So by design, 2009 is about to have ridiculous implications on the rest of my life; it's its own new beginning, whether I like it or not.

I celebrated the New Year alone, for the first time ever. My options were limited: a lack of funds coupled with a gimpy vehicle and a handful of "friends" close by can force such a happening. But I wasn't hurt by that. I watched The Wrestler [I was right: amazing movie]. I toasted myself with a couple of German imports, watched Rhys Millen and Robbie Maddison's New Year's feats on ESPN, saw the ball drop, listened to the fireworks in the parking lot, and eventually went to sleep. Business as usual. No need to be out, no need to be drunk attempting to forget the night or the day or the year that passed. My celebration was internal, and I think it was for good reason.

2009 is about me in a lot of ways. I'm the one who's going to be at the mercy of ... or, conversely, at the wheel of ... all of those changes that are to come. I'm the one who's going to have to deal with the complications - or windfalls - that come at their behest. I'm the one who's got to see and be me at the end of the day.

I'm the one who has to ensure my own happiness.

So maybe bringing in '09 alone was a harbinger of things to come: relying on others less; being more comfortable with myself. Confidence. Clarity. More of what I want, less of what others demand. I've come a long way, even if I can't remember exactly where I started. But whether you start from the pole or the back row, the goal is to finish at the top of the podium. In the coming days, more and more people will be throwing lame slogans out about this new year, and more folks will be tossing out resolutions and goals that have grown stale from years of inaction ["change occurs when it is too painful to stay the same"]. But what happens when "new" stares you in the face, whether you like it or not? What do you do when you don't have the chance to turn down life as it comes, but rather are forced to adapt or be left behind? What happens when you can no longer hide?

2009 belongs to me. Not because I say so, but because life has led me here. I have to be ready for the challenge. I've been ahead of the curve for so long. If I miss now, I'll be quick to get left behind. This is my genesis. My chance to start anew, thanks to circumstance.

Ready?

Go.

The Past Is Proof...

In 2009, I vow to be myself.

"Love me or hate me, y'all can't break me 'cause y'all ain't make me."

Happy New Year.

Don't Say Nuthin'...

I knew I was right to fear losing my muse. Nothing's worked since the 17th. Clearly that's not to say that nothing's been happening .. I've been a mess. But writing has not been forthcoming. Maybe I've been too caught up in myself to opine on much else. Who knows.

I'll keep trying.

P.S.: This Common/Afrika Bambaataa Zune ad campaign is killing me. Please stop jamming this down my throat. Though if iTunes keeps tripping and messing with my OCD by corrupting my library file and ruining my settings/organization, I will be switching. No thanks to you, though, Common.

P.P.S.: Forget Will Smith in Seven Pounds; I want to go see (and mark out for) Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. I'm dying to see this movie, and not just on some bootleg internet site. I feel like this film deserves my money...when I get some. I hear nothing but great things, and I like what critics and sportswriters have had to say about it. As a long-time wrestling fan-turned-smark, this movie is for me. I also want to see The Spirit... looks dope.

Soul Amazin' (Steel Blazin')...

Catharsis. At least that's what my writing means to me, most of the time. And damn Miami Law for taking that outlet away from me. A lot has happened in the last two weeks, and it's put a lot on my mind. And you mean to tell me I can't even write about it in order to get even HALF of it off my chest?

You've got to be kidding me.

Anyway, twitter/twitterfox/twitterberry/twitpic has done a good job of helping me stay out there and stay connected. Enjoy the random updates on the left. In the mean time, I've got thoughts that are climbing on top of one another trying to get the hell out of my head. I bet when I get a minute to try to let them out of the cage, the moment will have passed but .. maybe not. Who knows.

I'll pull it together. Stay up.

The Man Who Sold The World...

I might to be ghost for a little while. Thanks, finals, for ruining my blogging groove.

In the meantime, enjoy some Black Jesus (shout out to Aaron McGruder and his creative genius):

Black Jesus!
Ridin' Sweet.
Steve Jobs.

Feel free to laugh... and to not take life too seriously for like 2 minutes at a time.

So Cold...

If you know someone from the D, you've probably used this video to make fun of them.

If you're from the D and someone's made fun of you because of it, I feel for you. You're probably mad. I'm mad. I can't stand it. I hate when someone approaches me singing that song. I hate that people use that to make fun of my city ... a city, clearly, with it's own fucking problems. No need for youtube to add fuel to the fire.

Damnit, T-Baby.

But in truth, crazy shit does go down on the regular. And it makes NO sense. I mean, come on. Every day, every night. We're "The Murda Capitol," "Murder Mitten," "Dirty Third," and any other nickname you can think of for a reason. Just the other night... the night before Thanksgiving, no less, two people - reportedly ages 18 and 21 - were killed outside the club. I mean, I've been at the club when there are fights.. when people have guns, or say they do.. when people have gotten jumped, stabbed, beat down.. I mean damn. Can't even get together to kick it over the holidays without worrying about who's comin' after you.

Meanwhile.. Miami, my "other" home, went murder-free for the month of October.

When I'm down there, or away from home in general, I'm bombarded with attacks against my city. We're a hell-hole; worthless; most dangerous in the country. Yes, I'm one of those people who's been asked, "you're from the D... have you been shot/shot at/robbed?" question on the regular. I've gotten the, "do you live on 8 Mile/is 8 Mile really like that?" question. I've had to bear the brunt of every negative media perception of my city ... and really, how hard is it to paint a downtrodden city as a shithole? Especially when the residents, or former residents, refuse to stand up for it?

How can I stand up for my city when some good percentage of what is said is true?

I don't know. But I will. I love it. It's home.

[Stand up for what you believe in.]

Needless to say ...

... but flying back home is not the same without you. The first time's always the hardest, right?

Worse, I need my "best friend" right now. Need. And somehow, I feel better just saying that out loud.

Somehow.

As Serious As Your Life...

Be blessed, everyone, today. Be thankful for what you have rather than envious of the things you don't. Things could be much worse than the trivia that sometimes consumes our life.

Bless those in Mumbai.

Bless the victims of terror, intimidation, oppression, famine, and life in general everywhere in this world.

Peace. Love - the wave of the future.

Give thanks. Give back.

[Never give up/in.]

Yesterday to Tomorrow...

Breakups are funny.

Well, okay. Maybe more like long, drawn out, terrible, heart-wrenching affairs. They're horrifying .. awkward .. depressing buzz-killers that can seem to drag you down no matter how far removed you are from the actual event. Emotions you believed to be suppressed can be triggered by any innocuous reference to .. just about anything [there's always a link]. And then you're stuck .. "reminiscing" .. contemplating .. just generally in some ridiculous flurry of deep ["deep"] thought that keeps you from moving throughout your day like a normal human being. You get dragged down into this quagmire of lethargy .. everything becomes burdensome, painful, and stressful. You're torn between wanting to go back and fix everything and wanting to shut it out forever. You've gotten over it, but you're still treading through it all at once. It's mind over matter, and clearly the matter is winning. And just when you think you've kicked the issue .. just when you think you're at a point where you can say "it's over" and really, truly mean it .. 4th down and goal to go from the 2 yard line, and all you've got to do is punch it in to put this game away for good ..

Your dumb ass runs 98 yards in the opposite direction and takes a knee in your own end-zone.

Safety.

Yes, in the end, that's what it's all about. Safety. Security. A sense of self that trumps all doubts and uncertainty. Now, as we've learned having lived a few decades on this earth, how you achieve that sense of self is an open-ended assignment. But there's something about a breakup that causes us to seek that security in the very person we're struggling so hard to cut from our tapestry. There's something about us .. backward-looking people. Sankofa teaches us to "go back and take" .. taking from the past what is good and bringing it into the present in order to make positive progress through the benevolent use of knowledge. But when it comes to relationships .. especially as we just begin to traverse the back side of the mountain .. we look to the past for something else. We want to use it to make us whole; to fill the immediate void. We don't learn from our mistakes [quickly] and, thus, proverbially are doomed to repeat them.

Quickly.

There's no reason for me to hold on. No reason for me to open [and re-open] [and re-re-open] lines of communication that have been severed by natural means. No reason for me to make things harder than they should be. No reason for me to acknowledge or even honor conceptual promises that, in reality, are much more difficult, consuming, and potentially self-destructive than imagined. No reason for me to .. return. This is the chance to be the change that I .. that we .. saw was needed.

So, thankfully, there was a false start prior to the snap. Five yard penalty. It's 4th down. Goal to go .. ball on the 7-yard line. Clock's ticking. Pressure's on.

How will you put it away?

Falling Behind...

So, clearly I owe you (the world) an Obama post. Obviously. What conscious, conscientious blogger has not posted about our 44th President yet... present company excluded? While that post is coming, suffice it to say that I was like an old man in a rocking chair last Tuesday night... silently reveling in the moment, crying subtly (and then weeping overtly), and in deep, reflective thought about what I just witnessed.

Amen to that.

All of that aside, I have been on a serious music-seeking mission these last few days as I attempt to reconnect with myself (once again). In my search, I ran across what may be one of the dopest conceptual albums that I have found in quite some time. It's rare that you find an album that tells a story from track 1 to track n, but man... this one definitely does, and it does it over refreshingly original beats and samples. Now, don't get me wrong. This isn't some earth-shattering, Illmatic/Reasonable Doubt type shit. It's not heavy like that. But it is FUN...and that's an element that's been missing from the game for a minute now. The artist: rapproducer 88-Keys, known for his work with hip hop heavyweights like Mos Def and Kweli ('Thieves in the Night,' 'Love,' 'Speed Law,' and 'Champion Requiem' are all his beats), as well Macy Gray, Consequence, and Musiq. The album: his debut, The Death of Adam. In his own words,

The entire album is about the power of the punani, if you will. The album follows the story line of my man Adam who passed away and basically how he died. It all started off with him catching a boner one morning, morning wood, and his life starts to spin out of control from there.

Simple, right? I mean, we all generally agree that sex is one of those driving forces that makes the world go 'round, and that it is inextricably intertwined in 92.6% of all decisions that we make... in one way or another. So, why not take that concept and make an album out of it? 88' continues:

I thought, “What gives me pleasure?” So I thought, Polo clothes, blue label of course, give me pleasure, when I’m out coppin’. Making beats bring me pleasure. Money. I’m like, “Boom! I know what gives me pleasure! Pussy!” So as soon as that thought came into my head, I’m like, “Okay. I’m scrapping all the other beats I had made for my album so far, and I’m starting with this one. This is the first beat for my album.” And I just stayed on it.

Did he ever. 14 hittin' tracks, with running commentary that just weaves this whole story together. It definitely has those, "damn, I know that feeling!" moments that you just can't help but laugh at. It's the type of album that truly can carry the "hip hop is supposed to be fun, so let's have fun with it" moniker... and it carries that MUCH better than, say, a Souljah Boy Tell 'Em cut. There's a sharp distinction between "fun" and "pure coontastic ignorance," but I digress.

How fun can this be? Peep the viral videos that have leaked explaining the back story of our beloved protagonist, Adam:

DCN 27 News Piece #1

DCN 27 News Piece #2

DCN 27 News Piece #3

Seriously!? I'm loving this. In any event, The Death of Adam officially drops on 11/11/08. Support 88' in his latest venture. Though, I'm sure that through some creative searching (or by clicking..oh, I don't know, HERE) you just might stumble across a copy prior to its street date. The Internet is some sick, slick stuff. Anyway, guests include Phonte of Little Brother, Kid Cudi, Redman, Shitake Monkey, Bilal, and Mr. Kanye West - who also serves as executive producer (don't worry, there's none of that T-Pain/"Love Lockdown" shit on here). Need I say more?