May 30, 2008

The Let Out

I know only Californians are still at work, and they’ll only be there for a few more minutes, but here’s a suggestion to the fellas out there.  You know where all the ladies will be tonight.  They’ll be at “Sex In The City,” snickering while they recall the things they did with some dude that is NOT included in that number they throw around.  They’ll be there with or without you.

The ones that force their men to go with them will go home with their men.  The rest will be really aggravated that they’re with a bunch of women at the movies.  It’s kind of like the aftermath of a Prince concert.

That said, I don’t think going to the let out would be a bad idea.  You all know what the let out is.  The let out is when everyone leaves the club.  When you’re at the club, you post up in the parking lot afterwards and see what you can pull.

But see, I’m not talking about going to the movie.  I’m talking about good ol’ fashioned parking lot pimpin’ (oh yeah, shouts out to all those Club 559 PLP veterans, even those of you too embarrassed to admit that was your program).  Roll up to the mall to do whatever, and just chill out in the parking lot around 11:00.  Then, just enjoy the let out.

Just in case you’re looking for something to do tonight, can you dig it?

[EDIT:  I've found out that the person I originally discussed this with saw the discussion on Okayplayer.  Can't claim the credit, though I guess I should have acknowledged my man.  Aden, Bahn's Cuisine is always the heat.]

May 30, 2008

A matter of perspective

Saw this story in on an Iranian site about the shootings in Harlem yesterday.  The last paragraph showed how interesting propaganda games can be across the world.

While the United States has waged war elsewhere in Iraq and Afghanistan allegedly to root out terrorism, Americans are worried about the homegrown terrorism which is finding its way deep in the US society.

May 24, 2008

Praising liberal guilt?

Interesting piece in Slate on “liberal guilt.”  When I was a kid, it was called “white guilt,” but I suppose this is a far more accurate representation of the phenomenon.  I don’t find too many white conservatives feel too bad about racism.

I think this is part of the reason I tend to get along better with white conservatives than their liberal counterparts, even though one would probably classify me as being pretty left of center.  That’s because the “guilt” thing can be a little hard to deal with at times.

Why?  Because, honestly, I don’t think most of the white people I deal with should feel guilty about slavery or Jim Crow or any of those other long-ago travesties.  When those people tell you that stuff wasn’t their fault, they’re right.  They inherited the game like we did, an interesting analogue to Tupac’s “I was given this world, I didn’t make it” line in “Keep Ya Head Up.”

This piece goes on about how white people should feel guilty about those past injustices.  Poppycock, man.  What people should feel guilty about — particularly white liberals — is the way they see racism continue to exist, they recognize the persistent disparity between races in this group, they know that said disparity cannot be explained by differences in human capital…and so many don’t do a damn thing about that.  That means, unless racism is addressed as a significant factor, if not the significant factor, then the only logical conclusion to be drawn is that black folks are somehow deficient.

That’s what there is to feel guilty for, the same things conservatives should feel guilty for.  The difference is that the right-wing doesn’t even pretend to care much about these things.

I respect that, actually.  It feels a lot less patronizing.

While slavery and Jim Crow were dreadful things, they were rooted in the prevalent belief that black people were naturally inferior.  You know, they needed someone to make them work.  They were stupid, so they needed someone to guide them.  They were, in fact, not on white people’s level inherently.  That’s the basis of all of this.

That’s the same sort of political rhetoric that is still trotted out.  It’s also right beneath the surface of a lot of white liberal rhetoric.

The past is the past.  But the same things that made the past what it was make the present what it is — a time whose outlook, considering the current economic conditions, is bleak with regard to race.

Wanna be guilty?  Be guilty about that.  Then, you’ll actually be able to assuage that guilt, seeing how you can actually do something about what’s going on right now.  Otherwise, your guilt is not praiseworthy.  In fact it’s impotent.

May 23, 2008

Shine!

Strange confluence of events brings us this post, even though the events are actually unrelated.  They only come together in my bizarro thought process.

A few things have led me to think about funerals.  One of my close friends — about as close to family as anyone could be — lost his mother this week.  Interestingly, they didn’t do a funeral.  Said his mother wouldn’t want one, and I get that.

Forget that.  I want one.  Doesn’t have to be like the one my aunt wants, one in which people are bawling in the aisles, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say a certain vain portion of my personality doesn’t want people to get together for a few hours and talk about what the good I hope to do in their lives before it’s all done.  Part of that’s because I found Arthur Miller’s observation in “Death of a Salesman,” that the best representation of a man’s life is his funeral, to be absolutely fascinating.  I’ve been to funerals where people had to make up things to say, and it’s really, really awkward.

We humans tend to be better at telling people bad things than good ones.  At least until they’re dead.  Whatever sense that makes.

Well, a few days ago, I caught up with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while.  Love him to pieces.  Also worry about him to no end.  It’s kinda tough to watch your people go through it and be powerless to stop it, especially when those people are as, if not more, talented than any person you know.  Considering the people that are kind enough to indulge me with their time, that’s saying a lot.

When he left, I realize I kinda had a “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” moment.  For the non-Pink Floyd fans out there, it’s pretty simple.  Floyd’s original lead singer, Syd Barrett, was as talented as he was unstable.  After a few concerts where he just played what he wanted instead of the actual song, Syd got fired.  Years later, Syd comes in the studio to visit his old mates, looking so terrible that it brought Roger Waters to tears.

The interesting part is they were recording “Shine on You Crazy Diamond,” a 25-minute, nine-part composition about Syd, his troubles, and Waters’ wish to see him carry on his brilliance, even though it came part and parcel with madness.  The sight of the madness was enough to make it clear the brilliance may not have been gone, but it would certainly be obfuscated forever.  It’s safe to assume a genius is crazy.  The converse, however, doesn’t quite hold.

Also, it should be noted that Wish You Were Here, which features “Shine on You Crazy Diamond,” is probably the greatest concept album ever made, a treatise on the shady nature of the record industry that simultaneously wishes Syd was with them while understanding The Game just might drive them to the same place Syd was in.  Genius.

The fun — and yes, I’ve been link bouncing on the Wiki — is that “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” was intended to be an entire album side, but it was too long for that and had to be broken up.  So, this dedication bookends the record, giving it a circular feel and closure that’s hard to capture on record without being incredibly corny.  Wish You Were Here is anything but corny.

“Shine On You Crazy Diamond” isn’t a eulogy, but it might as well be.  After the recording, the group never saw Syd again (for the record, when someone leaves Pink Floyd, it does seem like he dies to the remaining group members).  The lyrics are here.  The closing lines always stick with me…

Come on you boy child, you winner and loser,
Come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!

Of course, writing the words don’t give them the presence they have on track.  It doesn’t share how, even though it’s catalyzed by his not-so-strong voice, Waters sells every ounce of emotion to the line.  It doesn’t show how Floyd’s grandiose sound is both perfect and ironic in this case.  It’s a 25-minute song with three verses.  It’s an anthemic tribute to a crazy man.  It’s amazing.

So, now that this lede is totally buried, I get to it.  When it’s my time to go, this is the kind of eulogy I want.  Don’t lie and say how wonderful I am.  That’s bullshit.  Talk about all of it.  Talk about the intensity, which is often more than optimal.  Talk about the self-assuredness, that often tramples into territory of conceit.  Talk about the humility and how dangerously close that comes to being insecurity.  Tell them how coldly rational I can be in making decisions while dying inside because the shit feels worse than the idea is good.  Tell them I insisted upon living a life that, in every way, gave me the creative freedom I need to stay sane while simultaneously growing frustrated with the inability to find true stability, even though I’ve got a pocket full of degrees that could get me a job secure enough that not even George Bush III could get me laid off.  Tell them who I am, good or bad.  It’s me, so I’ll love it.  If I can hear it, of course.

And tell me to shine, wherever the hell I am.  Not that I need to be told — cuz I’m gonna, baby — but because it’s nice to hear.  If I can hear it, of course.

There’s just something really powerful about how we actually are.  Seems like people often spend so much time avoiding the things about themselves that aren’t so favorable they neither fix them nor grow comfortable with them.  We are who we are.  Work on what you can, but I hope you’re appreciated for who you are.

Up soon…the results of the batting contest.  My shoulder hurts so much.

May 22, 2008

Actually, I may not be batting

So I checked the directions to see how far this here ballpark was from my house.  According to Telenav, it’s 42 miles from my couch.  By a rough estimation, that’s about $8 bucks each way.

When I was in college — which wasn’t very long ago — $15 bucks was my absolute cutoff for paying a cover charge at a club.  And clubs had smokin’ hot sexy young tenders!  Ain’t gonna be nothin’ tender at the Mudcats game, I feel confident saying.

But I’ll go.  Mark my words, though — it’s a matter of time before somebody gets smoked for trying to snake gas out of another man’s tank.  Let’s just hope I ain’t the one that gets caught.

May 22, 2008

See Bomani Embarrass Himself Today

As most of you know, I like to talk smack. I’m Mack’s son and Mumba’s brother. This is what I do.

So, you’d think that, given that the on-air personalities at 850 The Buzz are participating in a batting contest today before the Carolina Mudcats game at Five County Stadium, I’d be on here talking crazy. I will not, though.

Why? Because I find the pitchers at the driving range throw a mean curveball, which leads me to believe a batting practice pitcher will look like Sandy Koufax pitching to me. I don’t even know the last time I swing a pitch at a baseball.

Please don’t laugh at me. Well, at least not any more than you ordinarily do.

May 21, 2008

I have a confession to make…

Now that I’ve understood why you do not want to hold a golf club in your palm and fully gotten the physical hang of why you grip the golf club as such, I now believe I’m addicted to the driving range.

That’s a good thing, seeing how it’s the only thing in my life that doesn’t cost $4 each way to get to. The price of gas. The price of gas.

Post-Katrina, I did a post about how someone found my site by Googling “three dollars a fucking gallon.” Now, if you tell me somebody’s got gas for $3, I’ll be saying the same thing. Except it’ll sound different. ‘Twould definitely have more of a “party over here!” sound to it, yanno?

May 19, 2008

May 19

Today would have been Malcolm X’s 83rd birthday.  It’s kinda strange commemorating his birthday, and King’s, at a point when we could no longer reasonably assume they’d still be alive had they not been shot.  The “what if?” game is officially pointless.  Even hypotheticaly, it’s all about “what now?”

One of the greatest things about the Internet is the wide availability of videos of speeches that were previous hard to come across.  In the last hour, I think I’ve watched more Malcolm speeches than I had in my life up to that point.  And each one offers a glimpse of one of the most amazing people this country has produced, a complex and defiant representation of the black underclass’ attempt to figure out just what the hell is really out there for them.

And goodness, was he fierce!  Without slamming tables or screaming, he spoke with an immeasurable intensity and sincerity.  I watched the clip below and thought, “man, this is what I want to sound like when I grow up.”  I just hope, when I do grow up, I won’t have to say the same things as Malcolm, though I fear that I just might have to.

May 16, 2008

A new fate for “Stop Lyin’”

So I decided to let my man Luther R. Dawson do “Stop Lyin’.”  Those that have read this site for a while know that kind of thing is right up his alley.

He decided to take it to a new location, a blog at The Urban Daily.  Check out the site and the blog.  I’ll get a feed or something going over here so you can check that out from this location or that site.

Here’s the latest.

May 15, 2008

Me and Sonny V

Here’s the interview I did yesterday with Sonny Vaccaro.  Kinda long, but good listening.  I’ll post some thing for real today, maybe.