no lyrics tonight - just listen to that xylophone. In come the conga drums (da boom bip bap boom boom). Now the keyboards. And back to the xylophone. Its latin rhythm. Its from the root. You don't just hear it. You feel it in the pit of your belly. Your body moves instinctually. Like the motions of making love the first time. My knee there. Your hip here. And you're in the moment. Strafe that hi-hat with your drumstick, son. Smack that conga with the palm of your hand, man. Keep me here but take me to another place. And there is the xylophone... - 10:14pm, KCRW, Chocolate City, Garth Trinidad spinning just for me on a Monday night.
where's Radio Rahiem?: If its not the hottest day of the year, it sure in the hell feels like. I'm being berated by the sun today. Its yelling at my skin, screaming at my forehead, bearing down on me with pressure and fatigue and laziness. I'm sitting here, one light on, the glass patio door open, the screen door slightly ajar, the fan on high. You see, the air conditioner's not working. Now, I've had maintenance in 3 times in the last year to fix it but of course, it still doesn't work right. Yeah, thermostat says 88 degrees. Its 10:22pm and its 88 degrees. Bailey is laying next to me panting like he was wearing leather underwear beneath a thick wool shawl. Thank goodness for being human and having sweat glands. My shirt is off, I'm debating walking over to 7-11 and just climbing in a freezer. My kingdom for some rain. Global Warming is no joke.
And if you didn't get the title reference...please go get your primer and maybe pick up my 40 acres and a mule.
skanking 101: I've finally succumbed. 3 shows in the last 2 months. My obsession with Right on Time and Balls of Fire. Happening upon the androgynous mind. I'm gonna get my ska on. Now, let's be clear...I'm not your ska-core, your ska-punk. I might be a little enamored with two tone but I'm mostly feeling the dj focused dub (of course) and the rocksteady origins of the genre. I'll probably be making purchases of some new stuff in the next month or so. Suggestions? What are like the 5 ska albums I must own. Colin...of course I'm staring at you.
and I don't even understand what Third Wave is...i have much to learn. But next time I go to a show, I'm going to do the skank instead of my standard hip hop motions.
You fools are going to try to pull me into the scene, I know it. I'm going to fight it, man. I don't need a bad fro and a bomber jacket and jeans that are too tight.
vacaccion? si, si, vacaccion!: I need a holiday. Just a day or two. I need to be outside. Maybe take in a couple hours of pickup basketball in the middle of the day. Maybe have lunch on the beach. Maybe people watch in Venice. Maybe find a shady bench and read the 6 or so books that have stacked up on top of the bookshelf. I just know I need to get the hell out of the office and not be with these people for a little while, just break the monotony of the week. Maybe I could get up early and do the fireman's workout on the beach. Let my bell hang over my shorts while the hardbodies run by and not be ashamed or self-conscious. Stretch. Breathe. Release. Relax.
he's scared-a-me. Roper's scared. Come out, Roper. You're going to kiss the donkey. Come on and kiss the donkey: I love that movie. All Terry Conklin wants to do is fix the homelessness issue. Its like how Charles Barkley says all the time that he just wants to help poor people. The question though is "How do you help poor people?" or even deeper "Is poverty a fixable problem?" or even deeper "Is poverty a problem at all or just a natural class in any society?" This whole question came up pretty much from my LA Riots discussions from a week or so ago. the lovely Miss Mahoney asks "Why don't rich people riot?"
answers?
quik-stop poetry:
morning smiles in the bathroom mirror
afternoon thoughts cause muffled laughter
evening time brings comfort and quiet;
..............silence provides such peaceful air
midnight wonders of next day's cares
What if life was so good, you didn't want to share?