"Do you think that my feelings don't matter/Or your cheatin' or hurtful remarks?" - Dolly Parton, Dagger Through the Heart (Being Michelle)
So, what's the shelf life on secrets? What if no one says directly, "Keep this between you and me," but you know that it's private and personal? One month, six months, a year, never?
What if it just slips out in conversation? What if you assume that others must know? What if you're just bad at keeping secrets? You're good at tact. You understand how to deliver information in a way that conveys it's weight and importance You just can't contain it. You have to share the thoughts or else your head will explode.
What if you're just a fucking big mouth and it slips out because you haven't really thought about it in a while and you were in a comfortable situation and it seemed like everyone involved should've already known by now?
Why can't my life be like other Whodini Tracks? How about one day my life is like Freaks Come Out At Night?
Anyway, yadda yadda yadda, life is mad busy. I'm going away this weekend. Posts here will continue to be light. I am dropping reviews and such pretty regularly at time wastin', though. Look for some thoughts on Interview magazine and the quandary that Northern State's Dying in Stereo EP presents for me there soon. Maybe even today if I decide to procrastinate the afternoon away.
"Yo, I'm steady at it, these deadly habits." - Gang Starr, Deadly Habitz (The Ownerz)
So, yeah, I nearly died yesterday. Too much salt on Friday mixed with me adding some new gear to my running uniform sprinkled with my forgetting my packet of gatorade mix and swallowed with way too much water led to a mild case of hyponatremia.
"Maybe we are together in a parallel universe" - Fleetwood Mac, Destiny Rules (Say You Will)
I'm about to become a regular at the soul/rare grooves/hip hop jointz around town again. I can feel it.
The plan was to meet up with CAP and her friends and celebrate her 32 years. Well, I was at Star Shoes and they were not. It was still a ridiculously good night even though I was out by my lonesome.
The DJ played 70s soul and disco. Opening with The Stylistics People Make the World Go Round is a great way to get me on your good side. Following it up with some less popular Commodores tracks is an even better way. I talked with the members of the band, Western, before they got on stage to do their set and found them to be cool guys underneath their 80s electroclash meets skatepunk attire (and as an aside, apparently everyone is getting that Fannypack look. I dig it). I met some cool new peoples to chill with for the evening.
It was all good.
"We don't ask too many questions on the winning side." - Oingo Boingo, Winning Side (Alive)*If you weren't with me this weekend, you totally won't get any of this. This is strictly for BVN's own Original Scooby Doo Crew.
And we're off! Vegas! We're so going to Vegas right now. But first we must get gas. "She was so cute until she preened the entire time. Now she's ugly.' Vegas! Traffic. vegas! Let's play MFK. Let's play Celebrity. Let's play Death is Not an Option! Yes! "I think I'm going to have to go with Arkadickus." aHahahahahahahahaha. "I saw him in gym class. His breast size is at least Double D. Arkadickus is sittin' on dubs." aHahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. This? The funniest 15 minutes of my entire life. I'm crying. My eyes might fall out of their sockets. Oh my god. That would totally bum this trip out if that happened. VEGAS! Oooh, lightning. and Rain. It just went from 96 outside to 64. Wow. Now it's back up to 95. It's hot.
"I've got a good mind to throw it all away" - Frou Frou, Maddening Shroud (Details)
In America, battles for acceptance are generally fought on two fronts. First there's the political - the quest to demand equal protection under our constitution, to recognize that your liberties are my liberties despite our sociocultural differences. Those fights are enormous but they are but a blip on the radar when compared to the second battle - The battle of cultural opinion.
As someone who works in and writes about our popular culture, I think it's important and necessary to look at the images that are out there not only because it's a good gauge of how people are really feeling about certain things but it's also a good gauge of what people are willing to consider in the future. For all of our efforts towards integration, the vast majority of the people in this country live in communities of people that look like them, think like them, act like them. So, how do we know how "The Others" live? Through our shared pop culture.
"I want an everyday girl/wanna give you what I need, baby" - Peven Everett, Everyday Girl (Studio Confessions)
This summer has been far too gay for my mother. A friend of hers that was formerly 'in the closet' or maybe a little 'DL' or maybe just in denial is now a lot more open. His man-friend is a little "too much" for my mother. He's "over the top." That seems to be the most insufferable thing for her in this season of cheering for queering - the "over the top" gay man. I tried to quiz her on what "over the top" meant but she gave me the look that suggested that I should know.
She's uncomfortable with my sister watching Boy Meets Boy. My sister doesn't even understand the act of male homosexual sex and is pretty sure that men just kiss when they are in romantic relationships. Moms wants to ban the show from the television. Queer Eye for the Straight Guy is sort of okay but Boy Meets Boy? It's too much, too much, too gay.
"Jus 1 kill will make it better." - Basement Jaxx, Jus 1 Kiss (Rooty)
12 miles is a lot of damn miles. 3 hours is a hell of a long time to be running. It's hot by the beach at 10 am.
The first 2 miles of every run always suck.
Having to wait 4 minutes for people on a bathroom break on the 4th mile will fuck with your body.
Going up hills for a quarter to a half mile are not difficult for me. Going down them is.
Sadly, hearing Ignition booming out of car during the 8th and 9th miles put me in the zone and I ran those the best.
I hit the wall sometime during the 11th mile.
I rolled my ankle right at the start of the 12th mile.
"Things like this used to be civilized. You'd hit a guy. He'd whack you. Done. But with Benedict. He better not know you're involved. Cuz' He'll kill you and then he'll go to work on ya." - Various Artists, Ruben's In ( The Ocean's Eleven Original Soundtrack)
Dear White People Who Invite Me To Things,
I appreciate the invite. You fine folks are throwing nice parties with good food, good spirits with people in good spirits having more than your fair share of good laughs. I have a grand ol' time. Really, I do. I'm not complaining at all. I still plan on attending all your events. I just have a question:
Am I the only person of color you know?
Los Angeles is a big place with lots of people. Most of those people are some shade of brown. I'm just wondering why all your events feature me in a sea of fake bake rather than the melting pot/salad bowl metaphor that we all know LA is supposed to be? I like multiculturalism. I like interacting with a wide range of folks from different backgrounds with like interests. I know when I throw a get down get down, I expect there to be all kinds of flavor in there. I don't even have to think about it. I know inherently by the company I keep that it's going to be a rainbow connection.
Why doesn't that happen for you?
A little Red Drum Blues from the Andre Previn Trio (Hollywood Swing & Jazz CD 2)
So, this template is off the meat rack. Thank Michelle Jones. She's the bomb explosive. I'm showering her with fabulous prizes. You think it's hot? I know you do. Maybe you should shower her with fabulous prizes or maybe even request her technical savvy in exchange for money. Who knows, she might bless you by saying yes.
The template is live on my peripheral vision site, however, I'm not quite sure the links are working yet. I'm tweaking. In theory, you can comment there if you like.
Time Wastin' is live. I haven't done anything except an intro there but things are coming.
I'm dissing the outcome of Last Comic Standing with a frenzy at Snarkfest.
Please visit Cobb. He's smart, funny, and has complex political leanings.
I've got a big post rumbling around in my head. It's time for it to come out I think. Maybe today...maybe.
"What am I supposed to do?" - Jazzanova, No Use (Soul Sessions 2)
You may remember the road trip game of champions, Marry. Fuck. Kill. It's fun and hard but fun and may bring tears to your eyes as you consider the possibilities that are really out there.
I have a problem, though. I have a tendency to call the game Murder. Fuck. Kill. You know, like as in murderdeathkill or Murder by Death or any of the other ways you might associate murder with the word kill.
So, on my way to work yesterday, I was thinking to myself. I said, "Self, what about a game called Mudered. Fucked. Killed?"
Self responded affirmatively and here we are.
Same general concept as Marry. Fuck. Kill. in that you receive three names and you must decide their fates. The fates are less kind to them, however.
Murdered - This person would have to be killed by you personally. You have to determine the method of murder as well. It just must be by your hand.
Fucked - This person would just be put in a situation in which they couldn't possibly survive...but they might. Just like in the movies. You'd be playing the evil villian and saying, "Dude, you're so fucked." and walk away cackling maniacally but since you're an evil villian there's probably some detail you've forgotten and if they are lucky enough they will get free and be better for it.
Killed - You don't want to get your hands dirty but they must die. You pay for it to happen and then go about your day.
Get it? No? You will. Let's play.