The Mac

Just Checkin in on yall...I'm at the apple store getting used to this whole mac feel Its very dope.
anyway ttyl...Ciao
+808

The Letter N

Black people need to get off of this nonesense about slavery, reparations, and how any negative thing that happens to us is the fault of "400 years of bondage".  Dude Please...

Looking around the world you'll find that just about every civilization has had a period wherein they were robbed of their cultural identity, dignity, and abused by another.  They have all managed to rise up from their plight and excel in various areas of academics, business, art, athletics and so on and so forth. 

Our REAL problem...is what I percieve to be a straight up genocide wherein you'll find young black men murdering one another daily

Chicago has over 600 murders a year (mostly black on black crime)
Trinidad and Tobago an island of roughly 1 million has over 300 murders a year again (mostly black on black)
Jamaica roughly 3 million in population has about 1000 murders a year
and I'm not even gonna get to Brazil, Haiti, South Africa or other African trouble spots.

The fact is that right here in Toronto I've heard young black men say things like "I murder him for less..." and find humour in stabbing or shooting their other black brothers...

bottom line...

don't blame anyone but yourself

+808

Fa-Bulous

I love art. Whether it be music, dance, or visual...I love art. Right now the following two pieces from Leila Fatimi's portfolio stand out in my mind as stunningly beautiful avant garde works. Her warm presence can easily be felt in each and every photograph and appreciated by any individual with a sense of style, class, or beauty.


Macbeth:

Telephone in Kensington:

+808

Self

8:23, Torn, a shiver runs through my body as I turn off my music. I am alone. I hate the inexplicable pain I feel, it’s vast emptiness frightens me, for I know not what may lay in it’s murky depths, I fear the possibility of it taking full control of me, fear the consequences of such a travesty. Yet, I simultaneously love the pain, love, the hate. Yes, I know it sounds odd but believe me its true. I have always felt that this inner turmoil has afforded me a creative luxury. A luxury that I would have almost undoubtedly gone without had it not played such a substantial role in my life, and again the dilemma builds as I might also argue that in the absence of such inner turmoil, such pain, I might have been so content, so appreciative that I may have been able to achieve a considerable amount more than I have. However, the latter is not the case. 8:59 damn it. It’s taken me half an hour to get down here, I’m weeping inside. No-one can hear me cry, see the tears streaming down my face, touch them and feel their warmth, not even I. I weep inside, the pain is unbearable and I can feel the emotion inside building up, rumbling, I yearn to channel my sadness, my pain into anger, I am, after all, a man am I not? I hold it in “pero mi Corazon sangra, Mi Corazon sangra,” and it hurts so badly I don’t think that I can, don’t think I will ever forget it.







Coming from me, you might expect cocky, expect arrogant but truth-be-told I am neither of these Sure, I firmly believe that I am intelligent, good-looking, kind, and polite, but what is wrong with that. Imagine, strong self. A self, so strong that It is uninhibited by societal weakness. A self that stands above the toxic pollution of the feeble minded majority. A self that stands tall when all others buckle, sway, and fall. A self that is myself, yourself, a strong self.

NEW GRAPHIC ART

Tell me what y'all think about this

Knock Knock

Wow!
So I'm finally back off a treamendously long hiatus and obviously have alot of things to update, lot's of free music, software, fun finds, literature and...videos!
Yes this blog will be goin V-side in a few so stay posted...until then check out this video of my homeboy Young Twyman he gets it in outta Houston Texas...808 Gang...

Enjoi!

Behind a Smile

Behind well wishes and a wide smile lie sorrow and pain, hunger and loneliness, eccentricity and a turbulent battle between hope and despair. behind well wishes and a bright wide smile lie a sea of tears and graves filled with the masked figures of shattered dreams. Darkness and fog exude from the pores of the optimistic, fatigue clouds the foresight of the visionary, and insomnia ails the dreamer. Pain clouds the judgement and failure spawns fear, yet I speak words of kindness and smile as though the skies were still clear.