On Trayvon Martin >

March 23rd, 2012 § 1

It’s been almost exactly 8 years since I wrote this post. I was only a couple years older than Trayvon Martin at the time. It’s hard to say whether satire becomes more funny or less funny when reality catches up with hyperbole.

I don’t have much use for much that Shelby Steele says, but I think there’s a grain of truth in his idea about how middle-class blacks sometimes interact with American society and American institutions. We try to make a bargain: we will give them the benefit of the doubt that they aren’t racist, and then they won’t hold our race against us. And if you grow up with enough privilege, like I did, you can start to feel like this bargain is being upheld. Maybe security guards follow you at the store, maybe people cross the street when they see you coming at night, but people will feel comfortable around you, and you can become successful and popular.

Trayvon Martin is a reminder to me that this deal that I try to make is a false one. I could have been Trayvon Martin 1o years ago. My son could be him 20 years from now. Racism is dyed into the fabric of this country and compromises both its people and institutions. No peace can be made with it. I’m not wise enough to know how we end racism, but it seems to me that a good place to start is demanding that people are fired for failing to make even a cursory investigation into the death of a black boy.

 

 

A poem about Nicholas Cueva >

October 12th, 2011 § 1

Nick illustrated one of my Blacklisted tweets in exchange for a poem about his awesomeness. It doesn’t have the word “awesome” in it, but a tribute nonetheless:

Jose Cuervo walks into a bar and orders a Nicholas Cueva,
easy on the truth of falsities.
He recalls indigestion or the bedlam of the fray;
idiopathic, or perhaps not.
He cannot help who he is;
his structures have sculpted him, stalwart.
A man who fucked orchids before it was cool to fuck orchids—
who makes ART, not art.
Don’t be fooled into thinking that
his bombast is his bombast.

Ezekiel Scroll/Oakland Public Library >

June 16th, 2011 § 0

You told me the sudden passion
of books, the flame in their dying,

their words, curled or consumed;
lying on their spines as if in repose

or as a discarded bird, wings crisp
and brittle, a shadow breath in their lungs

borne into their leaves by a flicker
of my eyelids, or the earth itself

uncoiling under the sky. I want to hold
them here. I want to wrestle them whole.

 

The Mark of the Beats II >

May 18th, 2011 § 0

THE MARK OF THE BEATS (right-click to download)

This semester has been pretty stressful, preparing for oral exams and teaching, and the past couple of weeks have seen me smothered in work. My main safety-valve/tool of procrastination has been this mixtape, an ideological sequel to the 1st Mark of the Beats mixtape. I tried to be a little more ambitious on this mixtape, trying to add more pop and rock songs to the usual diet of hip-hop/electro. The mix is also heavily influenced by Ryan’s excellent music blog, Melodic Expectations (@MelodicEx). There are 4-5 songs in the mix that I heard on his blog first, and a couple more that I heard by connections with those bands. I even thought about giving him a co-credit, but I thought he might not want to responsible if the mix tanked.

With deference to the modern lifestyle, which often doesn’t allow for people to listen to music in large chunks, I’ve divided the main mixtape into two tracks of about 30 minutes each. There are also two outtakes. The first of these, the Jay-Z/Harmonic 313 mix, was excised because I wanted to make the mixtape clean for the kiddies, and as you’ll see, taking out profanity would eliminate most of the song. It’s a little odd, because that was the 1st mix I did for TMOTBII, and I’d built the mixtape around it. But oddly, I think the mix is better off without it. The second of these (El-P/Nirvana) was also an early mix, which I cut partially for profanity, partially because I couldn’t get it exactly as I’d liked, and partially because I really didn’t have any place to put it in the mix that wouldn’t have disrupted the flow.

I’ve bowed to convention, at the suggestion of Drew, and did the clever mash-up title thing. Following that is a list of the songs I used. The download is a zip file containing all four tracks and the art for each track.

Tracklist:

1. Paranoid Hearts
2. Promiscuous Virgins
3. Prizefighter Romance
4. Rihanna’s Dream
5. Little Lightning
6. Blue Airliner
7. Hello Cyanide
8. Vexed Boss
9. Cookin’ Up Death
10. Midwestern Phoenix
11. A Swift Kick to the Pants
12. Nobody Here
13. Womanizer
14. Work the Shutter
15. Intergalactic Mechanic
16. Fix Up, Look Sharp, You’re About to Die

Outtakes
17. Cyclotron Threat
18. Deep Space Spirit

Source Matériel
Pedantic note: “acapella” means that I only used the acapella, and “instrumental” means that I only used the instrumental. If I used only the original song, or an acapella and instrumental of the song, it’s just listed without a modifier.

1.  The Brothers Martin – Fears to Remember
2.  Blondie – Heart of Glass (acapella)
3.  Kanye West – Paranoid (instrumental)
4.  Nelly Furtado – Promiscuous Girl (instrumental)
5.  Madonna – Like A Virgin (acapella)
6.  Lady Gaga – Bad Romance (acapella)
7.  SPORTS – Prizefighter
8.  Bat for Lashes – Pearl’s Dream
9.  Rihanna – Don’t Stop the Music (acapella)
10.  Kris Menace – Lightning
11.  Annie Lennox – Little Bird (acapella)
12.  Airliner – Dawnsio
13.  The White Stripes – Blue Orchid (acapella)
14.  Com Truise – Cyanide Sisters
15.  Jay-Z & Lil Wayne – Hello Brooklyn 2.0 (acapella)
16.  Dizzee Rascal – Vexed
17.  Kelis – Bossy (acapella)
18.  The Faint – Posed to Death (Calculators remix)
19.  Aesop Rock – Cook It Up (acapella)
20.  Max Justus – Midwest
21.  Cannibal Ox – Scream Phoenix (acapella)
22.  Clams Casino – Motivation (instrumental)
23.  Lupe Fiasco – Kick Push (acapella)
24.  Vektroid – Nobody Here
25.  Britney Spears – Womanizer (Borgore remix)
26.  Big Boi – Shutterbug
27. Missy Elliot – Work It (acapella)
28.  Dizzee Rascal – Fix Up, Look Sharp
29.  Beastie Boys – Intergalactic (acapella)
30.  HEALTH – Die Slow

Outtakes:
31. Jay-Z – Threat (acapella)
32. Harmonic 313 – Cyclotron
33. El-P – Deep Space 9mm
34. Nirvana – Smells Like Teen Spirit (acapella)

worth noting elsewhere >

April 27th, 2011 § 0

While we keep soldiering on here, I figure it’s probably about time to announce that Dalia has another blog (the tramp): The Blacklisted. The Blacklisted focuses on stuff Dalia doesn’t like (which are many). She also has a twitter account for when she’s too lazy to think out a whole blog post (which is often): @Blacklisted140. Also, the Ruppe/Ghansah Presidential Campaign of 2012 is well under way, and you can follow its public statements here: @nextprez.

Tens of Millions of Parts and I am Still More Than The Sum >

April 17th, 2011 § 1

I recently (on DNA day) found out about a company called 23andMe, who offer genetic analysis to the public. For $99 (previously $199), they will estimate your risk of contracting heredity-related diseases, discern whether you might pass on genetic defects to my children, guess at your family’s origins, and notice your previously-unknown relatives.

On April 15, 23andMe had a special offer in which they waived the initial fee for their service, so I thought, “hey, this is a great and fascinating opportunity! I should try it!” They still required me to sign a $9/mo commitment for a year, however, in exchange for regular updates as genetic sciences improve. There was also a $15 shipping charge that they tacked on just before I checked out, but at that point I was already emotionally committed, so I forged ahead.

Registration was straightforward, although the terms of service/privacy statement was unusual. Typically all that’s covered are email addresses and phone numbers; it felt a bit strange to agree to statements about what someone can and cannot do with my personal genetic code. But they seem to have a good grasp of the novel concerns related to this emerging field of personal data, so I was not too worried. (I can separately allow them to correlate my anonymized DNA with the optional surveys they offer, becoming part of their research results.)

So how did they actually get their hands on my DNA? They sent me a DNA sample collection kit. This is what I got in the mail (I got a kit for Mel, too):
you've got mail
Opening up my kit, I found The Spit Receptacle, nicely packaged with plenty of pictorial instructions and a biohazard bag in a box-within-a-box-within-a-box:
Inception?

Here is a closeup of the DNA sample collection tube, which pretty much comprised the entire ‘kit’:
spit tube
It consists of a plastic tube and a funnel attachment with a lid containing some mysterious clear liquid behind a filmy seal. The instructions were very clear that I should register my tube number on their website before spitting.
don't forget to register your tube
Don’t want to lose this valuable genetic material through forgetfulness!

So! The moment I’d been waiting for:
SPLOOP
It took about 5 minutes to produce enough saliva to fill the tube to the line (about 1/2 inch; the tube closes off halfway down). I could have spit incrementally, but I chose to collect it up and ooze it out all in one go, for dramatic effect.

After the deed was done, I was to firmly close the lid.
SNAP!
This popped the film seal, releasing the pre-packaged clear liquid to mix with my home-made clear liquid.

I then spent a moment contemplating the future, in which I suddenly found myself living. (Also watching two liquids mix in a test tube.)
the future is miscible clear liquids
oh, whoops. eew.
Oops. I wasn’t supposed to shake the tube with the funnel still on. Yuck.

The funnel unscrews…
carefully...

The cap goes on, and the whole thing goes into the biohazard bag.
really?
I felt a little bit like a traitor, marking my own spit as a biohazard. I guess I felt important and powerful too though, having to protect all those innocent people from my dangerous bodily fluids.

Put the tube in the bag, put the bag in a box,
lots of packaging

put the box in another box,
and mail that box to myself; and when it arrives... AHAHA, I'll smash it with a hammer!

peel, seal, and toss the whole thing in the mail box.
or maybe just mail it to 23andMe

Voila! Now I just have to wait for 6-8 weeks…

easy!

{{Photos by Mel Worthean}}

OFWGKTA at Slim’s >

February 23rd, 2011 § 1

Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All’s (hereafter Odd Future) last stop on their three stop American tour was at Slim’s in San Francisco. The show was completely sold out days before, a line around the block testifying to their status as buzz band, perhaps buoyed by the indelible performance of their two most well-known members (Tyler the Creator and HodgyBeats) on the Jimmy Fallon show a week prior. By the time I arrived, the mixture of hipster bandwagon jumpers (I don’t mean this as a pejorative, I had only heard of them two weeks prior, myself) and hip-hop true believers was actively waiting. There was a heightened sense of anticipation surrounding the show that went beyond people shouting Odd Future’s dada/cultic catchphrases. Odd Future is in the strange position of having a reputation surrounding their live shows without having much history, and this lent itself to the tension outside the venue – nobody quite knew what to expect, exactly.

This tension was tamped down slightly when Syd the Kid (Odd Future’s DJ and token female) started her opening DJ set. Here were recognizable and conventional touchstones – Kanye, Waka Flocka Flame, even Gwen Stefani. But still, even as she wordlessly hyped the crowd, there was a bit of impatience with the entire ceremony of having an “opening act”. We knew what we were here for, and it wasn’t Soulja Boy. The first hint of Odd Future was an unrecognizable voice on an off-stage mic shouting, first chanting and freestyling over a track that Syd was playing, then someone that recognizably was Tyler the Creator yelling insults at the crowd, who responded with cheers. After a brief pause following the insults, Syd dropped the beat for “Sandwitches”, which was promptly cut off by an angry Tyler snarling profanely at the sound man to turn it up. An unfazed soundman adjusted some the levels and gave Syd the thumbs up.

The beat started up again, much louder. And it was like a typhoon hit the room. Tyler and Hodgy started rapping the first verse off-stage, then swirled on to the stage, ski-masks and all. The crush of bodies in the audience turned into a frenzied, roiling mosh pit, as it would remain for the rest of the night. Tyler promptly tore off the mask and took his first stage dive, leading the crowd in the chant of “Wolf Gang” that constitutes the song’s chorus while crowd-surfing on his back, hopping back on stage to climb onto a 6-foot speaker on the side of the stage and rap from atop it.  ”Holy crap”, I remember thinking, as Tyler flew around the stage, “how are they going to top this?” It already felt like the climax of the show, and the first song wasn’t even over yet. The answer, it turns out, is that you don’t try to go higher, but step sideways. The song ended, and Tyler left the stage, leaving MellowHype (the duo comprised of Hodgy Beats and a producer, Left Brain) to do a set of their slightly (and I do mean slightly) more subdued material. The energy didn’t exactly leave the room, but all of a sudden it felt more like a normal hip hop show again, albeit with a couple dozen more than the usual number of stage dives, and a crowd more interested in surging and moshing than waving to the beat.

I don’t want to oversell it, but from where I was standing, the crowd was frenzied. I destroyed a pair of pants trying to keep my balance as the crowd surged back and forth, ripping the seam halfway up my leg. A couple of people had to be led to the back after they nearly collapsed from the heat and crush of people in front, and I had to physically rescue a huge white guy who had fallen over. The crowd, while it was usually good about trying not to hurt people, hadn’t noticed him fall, since two members of Odd Future had done stage dives right next to him at the same time he fell over.

There are something like 10 MCs and producers in Odd Future, and they all got their turn in the spotlight, but Tyler the Creator is a force of nature. He might not be the best lyricist of the bunch, but he has a magnetic charisma unmatched by anyone else in the group. At first I thought the show was more energized when he was on stage because the crowd was more familiar with his material, but I realized that that wasn’t it. Just his presence on stage took the mood from calm to dangerous, whether he had a mic in his hand or not. His onstage banter was all over the place; lamenting the absence of Earl Sweatshirt (who is either in prison, at boarding school, or on vacation); berating the “old white people at the back” with profanities for standing still; proclaiming his love of moshpits. There was a moment near the middle of the show when someone at the front of the stage said that Tyler had accidentally punched him in the eye during one of his stage dives. “I punched you in the eye?,” Tyler responded with a little bit of I’ll-give-you-something-to-cry-about menace. He paused, then smiled broadly. “Swag,” he said, and dapped up the kids hand. Right now, it’s him that elevates Odd Future to more than just an innovative troupe of disturbed, precocious teenagers.

The music itself? I mean, there are lots of other places where you can read about the mix of violence, humor, nihilism, and submerged pain that constitutes their lyrics, and the eclectic, sometimes harsh DIY beats that they rap over. Hip hop concerts are generally not (Soul Junk aside), where the music gets reinterpreted, and that was the case here, too. The music was the same as their records, except much louder, much more energized, and much less intelligible. It’s true that their sound on record is completely orthogonal to the current hip hop landscape, but it’s at the live show itself that you feel that disconnect in fullness, the punk (yes, punk) ethos that their music embodies. Questlove compared their energy to Bad Brains circa 1979, and that’s not that far off of a comparison.

If the music holds up, and there’s not a whole lot of reason to think that it won’t, given the surplus of talent in Odd Future, I think the primary challenge for them (other than severe head trauma to Hodgy Beats – that guy’s stage dives make you worried for his safety. He doesn’t even put his hands out, practically daring the crowd to drop him) will be maintaining balance in the group. For as much as they remind some people of Wu-Tang early in their career, I think the more apt comparison is to the UK grime collective Roll Deep right before Dizzee released Boy in Da Corner on XL: a large crew of talented MCs, with one larger-than-life personality that overwhelmed the rest of them. It wasn’t tenable, and Dizzee left Roll Deep before his sophomore album. Tyler overshadows the rest of the crew, maybe not with his talent, but with his personality, and that’s at least part of the reason for his one album signing with the very same XL. The kids in this group (all of the members are between 17 and 20) are all happy now, caught up in the glow of their unexpected fame, but I don’t think they’re going to be contented with being backseat to Tyler forever. They need Earl Sweatshirt back, not only for his lyrical talent, but to balance out the group a little bit.

But for now, they’re good. After the last song, as one of the members gathered up his stuff, he picked up a mic and said “F*ck Odd Future”, grinned at the crowd, then left the stage as they started chanting “Wolf Gang”. Tyler, from a mic off-stage, said “Keep saying that. Never stop saying that.” Then the head for Giant Steps dropped, and I was off into the night, a baseball cap lighter.

Top Ten Mayonnaise Ideas >

January 4th, 2011 § 0

Mayonnaise has many applications, some of which you may not have thought of yet. Here are some great ideas to jog your creativity.

10. Mayonnaise Milkshake: Combine 1 cup ice, 1 pint milk, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract, a pinch of salt, a pinch of chicory, 8 tablespoons of sugar, and a quart of mayonnaise. Blend and enjoy immediately.

9. Mayonnaise Air Fresheners: Spread mayonnaise on a strip of cloth, and hang it from your rear-view mirror. Alternatively, you can leave a small pot of mayonnaise on your counter or desk with reed diffusers in it for optimum scent permeation.

8. Personal Hygiene Lotions: Foot cream, shaving cream, shampoo, toothpaste, contact solution, deodorant, hand sanitizer, sunscreen… you really can use it for anything you apply to your body.

7. Mayogurt: It’s not yogurt.

6. Mayonnaise Popsicles: Ice cube tray + toothpicks + freezer = endless party entertainment.

5. Mayonnaise Projectiles: Water balloons, paint balls, mayonnaise bombs, buckets above doors… the possibilities are endless.

4. Mayonnaise Pillow: fill a 2-gallon plastic bag with mayonnaise. Score the front side down the middle. Put it in a pillow case, and swap it out for someone’s sleeping comfort.

3. Spray Mayonnaise: Fertilizer sprayer, super soaker, whatever means you can think of.

2. Mayonnaise Snow: Spray mayonnaise on someone’s car and front walk on a night when it snows. They won’t notice soon enough.

1. Mayonnaise Cream Puff Roulette: Make cream puffs–five normal and one filled with mayonnaise. The lucky man gets the prize!

Twins >

December 11th, 2010 § 0

They were born together, those two.
They hid biscuits in the ground and saw them grow into trees.
They scampered among the bush and watched the stars flare.

Nelson and Abbey died when they were born.
Twins.
Their parents conceived a girl soon after.

But in another world, they burrowed into the dirt,
reigning over a kingdom,
ran amongst the lions and the cobras,
told them their secrets and kept the ones they were told safe.

I attended their parents’ wedding when the girl was still on her way.
They could not have known all the wishes and tricks of imagination.
If they concentrated hard, they could fly.
They could coast along the clouds with the seagulls and then scoop fishes out of the lake.

We cried together over the loss,
but our red-eyed excitement for the girl was a comfort.

The blues and reds of the evening sky were just a glimpse into their world
They knew everything. They feared nothing.
Shoulder to shoulder, they ran. They climbed.
The trees were their canopy. A boundless ceiling of rich green that they could penetrate.

They exchanged a marvelous currency that our world does not know.
They were fair with their riches.
Strawberries and clovers abounded, but they knew so much more.
Fruits of orange and burgundy and pink and red,
berries and papayas and pomegranate.

They only spoke to express their freedom,
and they never, ever cried.
The sunsets were like the fruit they ate,
and they only rested when they were tired.

And when the lions and the leopards roared,
they did not hear what we hear;
they heard enchanting whispers, commands, kindness and virility.
They watched the earth reproduce itself, bringing forth new life,
new wonders for its inhabitants.

Unadorned, they were not of the world of their wishes.
The ivory glory of what bloomed from the earth was everything,
but it was just a speck of what had been coming and what was to come.

Sonnet >

November 14th, 2010 § 0

A.
Name those things, I’ll watch. I’ll
help you stuttering along I’ll hold up what is left.
You walk alongside me for a time,
then down to the creek with its smooth stones
its meanderings, the concision of its banks.
I’ve always been something of an urbanite.
I don’t know moss or grasses I just walk
alongside for a time. The breeze you like
exhausts, exhales me and what of the sharpness
what of the way blood sloshes in you and in me
the way our silence itself is punctuation.
What you mean, what meaning well may mean
is something slothful, something slogging its way through.
B.
Trees don’t have shadows but shade. I find rest in
those little idiosyncracies. I’ve always liked
unintentional rhymes, the subconscious song you’re always
singing or at least playing back, the way its melody
can sit so plumb or slide off behind, slant just beneath
the waterline. In this way everyone sings or at least
builds a song. I’ve shucked the husks from
what you last said to me, they lie there noticed but unsaid.
I don’t believe but trust, and the things I’m not ambivalent
about I’ve carved into my bones in small raised bumps.
I’ve wondered how it is that you hear so much,
the inflections in my voice or in the creek’s,
whether I’ve just paved over those surfaces on my ear,
or just always choose to pick my way down the wrong path
or these things you choose to leave unnamed.
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