THE SPACE BETWEEN

I say this is some pretty efficient artwork, considering the fact that no one purchases singles from record stores. Did anyone ever do that after Napster?

3 MORE DAYS…

till I burst.

SURE DON’T TASTE LIKE GUMBO

Have you seen Gummo? No, not just this scene from Belly.

 

There’s way too much sanity in that clip. Yeah, sanity. So I’ve realized this past week that so many blacks and browns know OF this movie, but have yet to experience it. By the way, view would have been beyond inappropriate to use. My white boys will feel me on this.

I could end this post now with just one sentence. Gummo is birthed from the same creator as Kids, Harmony Korine. But what can I say, I like to write.

The film opens with a sullen introduction of Xenia, Ohio, a small town that was tackled by a tornado during the early 70s. The next 90 minutes follow several main characters, youngns fenced in monotony, who thrive off of nihilism and butchery. Glazed over are also vignettes of random townsfolk infected with amoral past times due to uniformed boredom. A plot is barely existent, but that’s the magic in Gummo. Ultimately, there’s no one to root for. No hero. No villain. Just lives lost in a barren reality. This was the first film where I ever felt as if I were intruding on the characters. I purposely distracted myself at times to detach myself from the insanity. It was that serious. I’m not even sure what to think of someone who can watch experience this twice. But at the same time, I have to own this film. And you do too.

FYI: Gummo was one of the Marx Brothers. You already know…

WE ARE NOT THE SAME I AM A MARTIAN

[!] title via cajus

lmfao

TEXTUAL INTERCOURSE

 

I love safe sex, but text sex just gets on my nerves. Especially when a man is bold enough to undress you with his keypad, but too demure to unbutton your cardigan. The twins don’t know how to text!! Live demos ONLY!

KEEP IT FUNKY

Lost in the river.

I watch my tears slide down his chest. Picking up speed as they meet his sweat. I can’t fight them, but as my toes curl, I dry my eyes.

It’s been years.

We promised to end this, to tie the laces tighter, to keep the grip stronger… but we both love breaking our word. He’s fucking me now. Hoping to kill every emotion left inside of me…us. I mouth out ‘I love you’ and he tells me to stop. Stop? That would be like fighting the flow of a river. Wrestling waves as they crash. We can admit we never saw this coming, but can we admit we never see this leaving? It’s beyond the worlds of wrong and right. It’s beyond him and shamefully it’s beyond me as well.

I ask when he plans to stop. His lips stay sealed, but the answer still slips. Never. We stare at each other, wondering how the lust melted into love, the love into obsession. How the hell we lost control of something that started off so simple. So damn simple. And now it’s too late. I kiss him goodbye…goodbyes. Only to end up here again. Flat on my back, gripping his arms. Lost in the river.

Let’s Talk Yeezy

Rap can only take you so far. Yes, I said it. And Kanye said it too or rather, he sang it. Let’s keep it 100. Indeed gritty rhymeplay can make for some dope road trips. Through hoods of despair, down paths of copulation, and even up valleys of consciousness. All great landmarks for sure, but the journey still meets it’s red light. That missing piece of infinity that stretches across a compact disc and knocks your heart to the ground. The tears you don’t care to wipe.

“I’m in love with you, but the vibe is wrong and that haunted me all the way home…” – Love Lockdown

Yeezy’s sobbing. A man who has constantly devoted himself to topping our expectations, sonically (hear “Stronger”), lyrically (read “Diamonds From Sierra Leon”) , and even socially (see http://www.kanyetravel.com) is putting a scalpel to his skin. Not to say that Kanye lacks intrinsic genius or ubuntu, but the man has loved to impress. Now, he doesn’t give a fuck. Our judgements have been tossed in a shredder without a finger of doubt on the button. 

“In the night i hear him talk. The coldest story ever told. Somewhere far along the road he lost his soul to a woman so heartless” – Heartless

Love can paint the world invisible. Loss of love can paint you invisible. And needless to say, dude’s lost a lot. A fiance…a mother. The type of passing and pain that forces personal reevaluation and pulls for epiphanies. R&B serves as the ideal vessel for heartache. Sure Ye isn’t innately a solid singer, or a singer at all, but neither is the average Mariah Carey fan who chokes through “Against All Odds” with cloudy eyes. However, soul moves the both of them, enough to sing without thought or care, because it simply satisfies an urge. An urge to be held. I’d love to hear a rap joint that offered a kleenex. Artists should stand for themselves first and for their audiences second. Yeezy has always made us a priority, promised to top himself as a rapper, smear icing on every track. But this is different. It’s not about us, it’s about him. Everyone has heard love will make you do crazy things, but the lack of it can do the same. It’s not called Rhythm and Blues for nothing.

17 DAYS.

MEET KANYE’S BFF – vanessa beecroft

I’ve never seen her face, but I want her.