"It's really on time, it's beautiful, it's really great." - Hepcat, Right On Time (Right On Time)
There are 78 songs in my itunes library that feature "time" in the Song Name. The shortest is 40 seconds (Hepcat's Right on Time). The longest is 12 minutes and eleven seconds (E. Badu's Next Lifetime off the Live album...although that might feature a bonus track).
I'm enthralled with The Time Traveler's Wife. I fell asleep last night reading. I woke up this morning reading. There are one hundred pages between Clare and Henry's first and second dates and yet the story of their love grows with every word.
It's not the right time for my stomach to be acting this way. I think I need some roughage in my diet. The queasiness really needs to be gone.
Now what am I supposed to do when I want you in this world...hold up, I'm not ready to do that yet. - E.Badu
True. It's not time for that, either, yet.
While Aaron's emotions are raging flames right now mine are just glowing embers. I could maybe roast marshmallows on the flames but there's no time for a burning ring o' fire.
The song she kept singing would make a man's blood run cold, when it's springtime in Alaska it's 40 below - Johnny Cash
I'm having two Thanks For Givings tomorrow. What about you? I figure enough time has passed in my life where I can do Thanksgiving the way I want to. The day with my family, the night with some friends. And my belly with all the food and drink I can manage.
And then on Monday, it's time for World AIDS Day.
"I'll be damned if this short life ain't heavenly, peace and harmony, family, seasons...and it goes, and we go round and round, life is just a moment in time." - The Pharcyde
Coach, as in the only basketball coach that matters, says, "The only day that matters is today."
And yeah, this year, today, I'm thankful for time.
"The world is mine when I wake up/I don't need nobody rolling over looking after me." - Erykah Badu, Certainly (Live)
I've gotten so used to my rss feeds courtesy of bloglines that it had been forever since I had visited a lot of your virtual homes. Came to find out that Anitra and Michelle and Karsh and Buccho all were wearing new clothes. Anitra, in fact, was sporting a whole new url which I didn't know about.
Even though I've been lost in the dark caverns of my mind, I hadn't simply dissapeared. I've been commenting.
Talking with S-Train about The Matrix:
Keanu Reeves is half-brown people (His father was part chinese, part hawaiian) so The One was brown people, too.
And, this is probably the very first time where a multiculti cast was put together where the heroes were brown and their goal wasn't based on some kind of race or class issue in an American film.
And their ultimate goal wasn't to teach the white people something about life.
They were saving the world. Their world.
If we're looking at Marshall as a person and want to consider his character in regards to race matters, I would note that the proof is in the pudding. He employs, empowers, and supports a whole cadre of Black Folks and does it respectfully, genuinely and in a way that doesn't seem like he's "using" them for his own nefarious purposes.
And, in this instance, I'm not going to put him under a different microscope than other hip hop acts for what he says because he's white.-me
"I don't really care about that thing, just get involved." - Raphael Saadiq, Get Involved (featuring Q-Tip) (The PJ's Soundtrack)
So nice to see you again.
Welcome back to the inside of my mind. I've been away for a minute trying to figure out how fucked up I really am but I'm back now. I might still be as fucked up as I was before but it's a little different.
It's time to talk about some shit.
"I'll be fine, just give me time." - Damien Rice, Older Cheats (O)
I'm trying to think of the defining moment of KCRW's Sounds Eclectic Evening Three (now an annual tradition here on the plantation). Was it the beauty and sadness of Damien Rice's melancholy Irish ballads? Was it Beck breaking into Nelly's "Hot in Herre" using only his fender rhodes and two old drum machines and then deftly switching back and forth between that and "Where It's At"? Maybe it was the far too short taste of the UK's Jem whose album has yet to be released anywhere but whose three song set was headnodding Brighton Street goodness. Perhaps it was the one hour party known as a Jurassic Five live show complete with turntablism from Cut Chemist and Numark, breakdancing, and a lively Chali 2na whose deep voice, bright lyrics, and very noticeable head scar are the highlights of the talented LA posse.
It might have even been the after party where Cut Chemist returned for a rare grooves set and then Felix Da Housecat rocked the dance floor with a very eighties-centric party mix. He opened with "Off the Wall" included Prince's "Controversy" and took us on an electroclash journey somewhere in between. The Lovely Miss Anna Baby and I drank free drinks, made nice with strangers (particularly the 2 older couples dancing the night away in the cold outside the tent), outclassed all other dancers, and were told we were just the cutest by two funky chicks.
We are Mr. and Ms. Cute 2003 but, you know, it is nice for others to notice. We're going to try for sexy on the '04 but I digress.
No, the defining moment of this night was The Spree.
"In the same hospital where biggie smalls died/doctor said I had blood clots but I ain't jamaican man/story on MTV and I ain't trying to make the band" - Kanye West, Through the Wire (College Dropout)
A 26 mile training run. Up at 4 AM. In Griffith Park in the dark at 6. Starting Mile 1 at 8 AM. Finishing mile 26 on a busted foot tendon at 3:30pm. Rocking the shakes, the numbness in the extremities, the lack of motor control in my legs, the silly post run grin, the grimace with every step, the thirst, the hunger, the desperation, the euphoria.
And the motherfucking medal.
Training is over. 29 days to the AIDS Marathon in Honolulu. I'm ready to run my face off.
What did you do on Saturday?
itunes is an addiction. I made my first song purchases today. That Kanye West track up there, and the Chaka Khan track it samples. Steppin into Tomorrow and Think Twice from Donald Byrd's Stepping Into Tomorrow Album. So, my "favorite songs this week" playlist looks like this -
1. Steppin into Tomorrow - Donald Byrd, Stepping Into Tomorrow
2. Steppin into Tomorrow - Madlib, Shades of Blue
3. Think Twice - Jay Dee, Welcome 2 Detroit
4. Think Twice - Erykah Badu featuring Roy Hargrove, Worldwide Underground
5. Think Twice - Donald Byrd, Stepping Into Tomorrow
6. Truth N Time - Al Green, AnotherLateNight (Groove Armada)
7. Don't Stop What You're Doin - Alicia Myers, Badmeaninggood, Vol. 3
8. Get By - Talib Kweli, Quality
9. Through The Wire - Kanye West, College Dropout
10. Through The Fire - Chaka Khan, I Feel For You
I'm tempted to buy so much more right now.
Current Digital Music Revolution Numbers?
12.5 Days of Music
"Don't wake me, I'm still dreaming. I don't see you. I can't feel you. I'm alone for real in my mind. I'll feel this all night. When my life takes flight." - Kelis, Suspended (Anotherlatenight)
Okay, I finally see why people have such a hard time hating on Kobe.
Last night's game was a perfect example. The Lakers beat the champion Spurs (as opposed to the hated Kings. We respect San Anton, we despise Sac-Town) 120-117 in a double overtime game that was probably the best regular season game in the best matchup in basketball in the world you'll see this season. Big hearts, great coaches, stellar basketball play.
And there was Kobe in the thick of it...smiling. He smiles and laughs when he does something spectacular. He smiles and claps his hands when a play doesn't go as planned. He loves playing this game. It's not work to him. Despite everything that is going on in his life, when he is on that court with a ball in his hand and a thought in his head and the hint of a lane to the basket, he is a thrill to watch.
That's what I think about when I watch him play. Shaq's jaw is set. For him, basketball is war. For Michael Jordan, you watch competitive spirit embodied. Kobe, though, he lives somewhere in that space between Julius Irving and Magic Johnson. He loves winning. He loves knowing he's better than everyone else on the floor. But what he loves most is the game of basketball.
I've struggled to feel good about the Lakers in what has already been a wonderful season when Kobe's on the court. I want to boo him through my tv because I just can't wrap my head around an accused rapist out playing a game for millions of dollars.
But that smile is infectious. That joy of basketball is unwavering. And he's just amazing to watch.
So, last night I caved. I only caught the last 2 minutes of regulation and both overtimes and for regulation while I wanted nothing more than the Lakers to win the game, I secrety rooted for Manu Ginobli to school Kobe every time he got the ball. But then something happened in the first OT.
I cheered #8.
"Can I get a witness?" - Joss Stone, Some Kind of Wonderful (The Soul Sessions)
It started here. Goldfinger's, a deceptive little hole in the wall of a club, was the home of JB and CT's first shows together as The Soul of John Black. John and Chris with Fish of Fishbone on drums would regularly play to the enthusiastic applause of 10 people. Friends, neighbors and the bartender for that night would be the only audience for the dawning of what has become the best soul-rock-funk band that you've never heard of.
When I arrived at 9pm at the tail end of their sound check, Goldfinger's felt exactly like those early days, I imagine. Managers and fathers, a sexy dark skinned bartender with an accent named Wendy, a couple drinking and snuggling in the corner. And me. Alone. And sad.
I'm in the closing days of marathon training and I'm not supposed to be drinking. So, of course, I knocked back three.
Fuck the Bullshit Wednesday didn't seem to be working out as planned. There were signs it would be different but at 9:30, by myself in a dark and empty club, the depression I've been fighting for a week was threatening to consume me whole.
Thankfully, the Soul of John Black is music that touches the spirit in a specific way. That kind of alive sound brings people together. My people. Old friends and acquaintances, new friends and characters started strolling into the club and I felt love.
And then JB, CT, Davey and Oliver took the stage and turned Goldfinger's into the Tomb of the Boom. Ballads and rockers dripping with emotion, humor and irony, The Soul of John Black songs remind me that no matter how lost I might feel in this urban malaise, I'm not really alone.
I can talk shop with B.O.B.; I can be amused by the zeal and candor and close-talking of Pierre; I can commisserate with Nisa and have my day brightened by her smile.
I can say Fuck the Bullshit and really mean it. Fuck it.