9.30.2009

First off, I retract my statements about fall. Fall is awesome, and today is a beautiful day. Secondly, I must rethink my position on socialism.
Earlier today, I spoke to a man from Venezuela. Up until now I'd romanticised hugo chavez and his rise to power, but apparently the truth is that he's been wilding the fuck out. This guys father had worked and bought himself a eight room house, but the gov. Decided that since he was the onlY one living there that a poor family should have it instead, and that he should move into a two bedroom apartment. Now, if your the poor family that sounds like the shit, but if your the former home owner, that's a great big WTF?
Yes the people need health care, and it sucks to be trapped in economic slavery, but it still beats real slavery and oppression any day. I'm just saying.

9.26.2009

Drunken text from friend #259:
(Received around 1p.m.)
I'm at 13's and the lsu game is on, and the magical first down line pops up on the screen and i know its not real, but how the fuck can the football ballplayers walk over it? How does the line know not to cover up football players? Tools for a better living outkast, screwdriver, and open face turkey melt.
Add fresh fruit and hip hop to that list too.....
Marijuana, jazz, and hallucinogens are simply the only three things that matter right now. I am not a role model. If anything thing I'm an example what not to do, to a certain extent. There are no escapes in life. But to enjoy what you have, drop two hits, burn one and spin some miles davis. You'll sort some shit out, I garantee

9.23.2009

things i do instead of sleeping...

my old friend insomnia stopped by last night, so i decided to get it in...




9.22.2009

first day of fall

fall is no doubt mt least favorite season. its got its advantages mind you; cool weather, trees changing color, thanksgiving, but its too much like a long drawn out goodbye to summer as far as I'm concerned. and as i said before, goodbye is a oxymoron. that's why when I'm out somewhere, and then get ready to leave, i skip the goodbye scene as often as possible. don't take it personal, but I'm not trying to shake everybody hands again and let people say they're gonna holler at me when they re not. id rather just leave. period. id rather say hi then bye any day. thankfully i live in new orleans, and yeah, goodbye is still a oxymoron here, but seasons don't exist. so i got that going for me.

9.21.2009

mark your calendars....


after five years of dive bars we've finally hit the big time. not that we mind dive bars. in fact we love'em. but despite our loyalty to cheap beer and spiting on the floor we've landed a spot in the HOB Parish room at the NOLA: rising icons showcase. expect some street gumbo, the gpc rhythm section, and lots of fresh hip hop.

Wednesday 10/28/2009
Doors: 07:00 PM
Show: 08:00 PM
Prices:
$10.00 - Advance
$11.00 - Day Of Show
Ages: 18+


also Feat Dee-1, Elysian Fieldz and Project League.

in fact, go buy you some tickets right now......

http://www.houseofblues.com/tickets/eventdetail.php?eventid=60213

rampage feat: caligula, elespee, and dj skratchmo

so, one Sunday, or Monday, or Saturday, in between cans of king cobra, or blunts, or mescaline hits, the infamous Caligula and i finally got around to doing a song together. the usual suspects were involved, skratchmo on the cuts, prospek on the beats, and tony t funk on the vocoder. that's right, a real vocoder, not autotune. and we didn't put vocals through it either, just used it for that weird video game sound. cause we gangsta like that. the video is coming as soon as i can get a a working nes or a lizard custom big enough for Caligula to fit a keg in. go listen to the track here:


http://soundcloud.com/dj-skratchmo/rampage-2

notes on guerilla publishing...

Chapter 1: general principles of guerilla publishing

1: essence of guerilla publishing

The unparalleled assimilation of the hip hop sub culture into that of the mainstream, beginning in the early eighties and continuing even today, was not only a triumph of multiculturalism as represented in all major media outlets ; it forced a change in the old dogmas the governed the conduct of the working class people of urban America. It showed plainly the capacity of the people to free themselves by means of guerilla publishing from a culture that oppressed them.

We consider that the rise of hip hop contributed three fundamental lessons to the conduct of revolutionary movements in America. They are:

- Popular forces can win a campaign against major labels and media outlets
-it is not necessary to wait for the conditions for making revolution exist, the insurrection can create them
- In urban America industrial and commercial properties, as well as places for communal gatherings, are the basic area for guerilla publishing.

Of these three the first two contradict the defeatist attitude that the supposed “death” of hip hop constitutes a defeat of some sort. The spirit that initially drove hip hop is the same that has fueled every cultural evolution of the knowable past. The fact that This spirit of innovation, which is itself a byproduct of the socio economic pressures the create the need for it, is inevitably consumed by the forces that generated the pressures in the first place, in truth constitutes no more than irony at its finest.

It is also undeniable proof that when deemed “cool”, the culture and ideals of the oppressed can be superimposed upon that of the masses, and in effect created the necessary conditions for bloodless revolution. The struggle is getting that culture and those ideals out to the masses, unadulterated by the commercial interest of those who are the gatekeepers of our society. Therefore it comes as no surprise that the final lesson tells us that it is in a commercial arena that this battle must take place.

Imagine a world in which the breath and scope of the cultural landscape is determined not by a perceived range of economic potential, but rather by the diversity of the people who populate it. a world where Artistic merit is not synonymous with commercial viability. Unfortunately, this world only exists in our imagination. Through the intrinsic nature of the free market system, and rapid globalization, our culture has quickly become one shaped by a handful of media companies, i.e. clear channels and time Warner, which, by extension means we are narrowing the scope of our cultural landscape to that which is deemed practical to commercial entities governed only by the laws of economics.

We believe it an obvious fact that the present oligarchical nature of both the music industry and the major media outlets has institutionalized a certain systemic marginalization of alternative/underground musicians and visual artist. Not by any devious design or intent, but only for the fact that by not being accessible to large, easily reached demographics they are just not commercially viable enough to warrant the investment of a traditional profit driven media source. The results are any number of besieged musicians around the nation, struggling to participate in an industry that seems determined to shun them. And so, we have sought to become a multi media publishing agency geared toward independent artist and the use of grassroots marketing methods. the goal of the gpc is to create a community minded, globally oriented media house which will act as an outlet for independently produced projects and products. we do this in the hopes that one day we can finally effectively use the purchasing power of the people to reclaim control of our popular culture from both the corporate elite and the moral majority. we are tired of being told to drink Coke, smoke Newports, and eat Mc Donald's. we have realized that big business pulls the strings, and now laugh at their pointless elections, shake our heads at their stupid wars. and oddly, yes, we too are ready to wage war, to attack with the very chains they intended to hold us down. and if you are too, then you are already one of us.

And this is why the guerilla publishing company exists.

9.19.2009

so I have this dream, which is weird because I hardly ever remember my dreams, especially when I go to sleep loaded, but I did. I don't remember the circumstances, like who I was with, where or why, but regardless of all that, I was tripping balls. It wasn't my normal third person perspective dream either, but a mix of first and third perspectives. I was looking at clouds and they boiled and rolled about just as they had that sunday, only this was at night. Don't remember how or why I wake up in the dream, just me thinking, "holy shit, I'm trippin and I'm asleep. " It was all very detailed and realistic. The question is how or why?
Once upon a time, saturday mornings used to be magical. The apex of the week. Cartoons, cereal, no school. Now they are slept through.
My fellow apes, Propsek and calio were judges at the off the dome emcee competition last night at howlin wolf. Which meant me, tony, my cadillac, a six pack of blue moon, and a handful of witty one liners. I won't single anybody out, but it was very competitive overall. Check it out if you get a chance; I'm pretty sure its a monthly thing. Unfortunately, a lack of grand meaux and a questionable final round left me thirsty for just a little more.
A road beer later and I'm in 13 downing a shot of my favorite liqueur and shooting the shit with private pile. I declare for the thousandth time that we need to stop bullshitting. Another grand meaux later and wes montgomery & we are in the caddy headed back upt. a blunt later, I'm in bed, and once asleep I have a strange dream.

9.14.2009

kanye who?

its dawned on me that I've written very little about hip hop so far. many may find that strange, but i don't. it'd be like writing about breathing or walking. on top of that, i cant really discuss modern events in hip hop because....well, i don't give a fuck. I've been hearing about kanye's vma stunt all morning, and all i can think in response is, so what? I'm not in the kanye fan club by any stretch, especially after 808's and heartbreaks, but, who the fuck is Taylor swift anyway? i don't know; but i bet she cant rap. thats all im saying.

9.13.2009

Have I mentioned that this here is a life is a story told in reverse? Only the end points aren't fixed so it starts wherever you please, but definitely right now. So what have you been doing up until now, oh wait; thats irrelevant cause that story just started too.

I told a tale about a magical device that played countless songs, communicated with people thousands of miles away, and connected me to a virtually unlimited amount of information.

But then niggas said stop talking about you phone.

Isn't goodbye an oxymoron?
He thinks
While sitting on the back of a 71 cadillac, listening to something from 65.
The stars offered no response.
Uptown saturday night.

I thought about going to the sound clash tonight. Big pooh of little brother fAme is the guest judge. But I opt for an eight piece shroom dinner instead.

Walking down to the mushroom to browse dvds and because I love puns, I notice other pilgrims on the path. Do you seek wisdom? Enlightenment? Unity?

Naw. They're going to the boot.

In the mushroom I start talking to the clerks about the woes of being herbal incense hustlers; but then I get all noid for a minute and start to feel like they're pumping me for info, you know the old good cop bad cop, so one gets a customer the other a phone call and bam!! I slip back to the used dvds....

Confronted by many hours of my life bundled, packaged, and priced affordably, I am overwhelmed. I put everything back and walk home.

9.09.2009

yup...

i was right. i did get a free beer at lunch. see how powerful thought is?

9 9 09

apparently today is supposed to be a significant day, what with the repeating nines and all.

"Modern numerologists - who operate outside the realm of real science - believe that mystical significance or vibrations can be assigned to each numeral one through nine, and different combinations of the digits produce tangible results in life depending on their application.

As the final numeral, the number nine holds special rank. It is associated with forgiveness, compassion and success on the positive side as well as arrogance and self-righteousness on the negative, according to numerologists."

not sure where i stand on that. after all, I'm not a numerologist. just a musician half the time, and a heathen the other. in the Che biopic with benicio del toro, there's a scene where a Bolivian soldier is asking Che about religion in Cuba. he says he's heard that communist don't believe in god. Che says he doesn't. he believes in humanity. I'm not sure i can even say that.

i do believe that the collective thoughts and ideas of humanity shape our world. we define it and give it meaning. so if enough people believe a thing that thing will manifest in one way or another. if, for example, you wanted to make the sky purple, all you need to do is redefine blue as purple, really believe that, and bam!! the skies are purple. cause who the fuck decided blue was blue anyway? want to be successful? make success as simple as being able to pay rent and eat everyday and your already there. today my sauces will be a shrimp po boy and blue moon in a frosted mug for lunch. so i got that going for me. it when our definitions of success are too narrow, specific, or just unrealistic, that we run into trouble.

so in that vein, ill try to keep my expectations for today broad. maybe the magic will be a free beer. maybe a phone call or e mail. I've already received text messages from not one, but two exes, with the term being used as loosely as possible. not sure what that means. it was nice to hear from one. I'm indifferent towards the other; seems i am with many things these days.

9.07.2009

deeper down the rabbit hole

the weekend is dead.
long live the weekend.

please disregard my previous post about mescaline not working for me. i know better now. it works, and it works well.

i drank tea with the hatter about 10pm Saturday night, wrote and worked on some music for a while. smoked and watched some cartoons. nothing really happened, but i was in a good mood. i tried to go to bed around 3:30, only to be driven out by my lack of satisfaction with myself. and so, around 4:00 i took another two hits, dropped Ellington's indigos and burned another one. that's when the fun started.

first off, Ellington's indigos is magic in and of itself. period. but when the trees outside of my door begin to look like one of those magic eye, hidden image posters, i knew i was definitely on some other shit. i sat there for about a year, then laid on my Cadillac and watched the stars for another. and thought. i jumped up just in time to avoid a spotlight from the neighborhood patrol, locked up the basement and went upstairs to play some guitar. the moving carpet convinced me that this was way stronger than mushrooms, and the rich tones of the guitar told me it was the best shit since sliced bread. so i sat there and played for a few months, watching the strings vibrate and blend into one another, along with the atoms on my arm.

thinking it must be near morning, i thought id try to go to sleep. i look at my phone. its only like six o'clock. holy shit. up in my room I'm lighting candles and listening to music on my phone. the candle light bends shadows along with the walls. the music is rich; i lose myself in every song. of course i am thinking of her; my sense of smell is exaggerated, and every way i lay there she is. its comforting. i look at my phone again. its only 6:10.

with my eyes closed the visualizations are more intense. i am moving in a black void. time is at a crawl. more thoughts, lucid dreams, i am living lifetimes. look at my phone again. its only 630.
the sun is coming up, orange sheets and multicolored prayer flags tickle my mind. this is definitely a high point. the colors, the new sunlight, the smell. trapped in the space between waking and dreaming; i am not sure whats real and whats not. i am lost in thoughts and a sea of orange and green. i love myself and get up to shower. i am too excited to sleep. its only 7:00.

until now id thought only the night held magic, but it seems the sun has its own tricks. the bathroom is a brighter green than its ever been, the water cold and refreshing. i go down into the studio and johns already there. I'm sleep deprived and tripping balls. time to roll a blunt. and fuck it, I'm all in; so i take another two hits.

its not before we start on a song. I'm writing rhymes on my blackberry. its hard to type while the keypad bubbles and floats. once I'm in the booth, lit only by my screen, its the text that bubbles and floats. I'm not sure where the rhymes are coming from....
"trying to make a family off of anti matter; a little more off the cuff id have mine would you rather?...."

I'm feeling cooped up, so it back to the Cadillac for more cloud watching. i realize that the clouds aren't moving so much as we are. i feel the earth spinning, i see the strings that make up our quantum world. my cousin calls and i try to explain, but cant. kuba calls and i don't.

more music, more folks over to visit. i don't care; I'm oblivious.

i am amazed by clouds, by beats, by all. the world is new to me again, and i am saddened a little when nightfall comes. i have found golden spirals in tree limbs and seen fractional geometry in action. yes it was hallucinations, but who's to say that's not the case with sight itself anyway? we don't ever really see things, we see the light bouncing off of them, with that image then interpreted by the brain which then tells you what your looking. my point being; your senses cant be trusted anyway. as the sun sets it rains a bit, and i walk in it. its warm and inviting. seems summer is never really gone. by the time i record my last verse of the day, the keypad stays mostly still, the screens glow in the booth is a little less hypnotic.
"nice to see you. it was a 24 hour trip to get here. now I'm ready to rip so don't get all flip about the lip, hear? I'm tripping balls right now, how in the fuck did you get here?"

i crawl back into bed about ten. one candle still burns, but my sheets only smell like me. this trip is mostly over.

what have i learned? I'm not completely sure yet. it seems to have kick started my creativity at least. the three songs i recorded saw me use some of the most whimsical rhyme patterns I've employed in years. apparently i play a mean guitar too. beyond that, I'm not sure.

9.06.2009

I was wrong. The sheets do still smell like her. They always will I think...
Hypothetically speaking of course....what gets you to the piont of mescaline hits at four in the morning? Listening to ellingtons indigos,Sitting in platos cave, and traveling the stars? Anybody out there? Hello? is this thing on?
I think of her whenever I do the bedtime routine. You know, when I take a shower, put on sleeping clothes and place myself in bed. But those nights are few and far between. Some find me passed out drunk on the sofa in the same thing I've had on all day. More find my awake staring at the walls until I'm physically inacable of staying awake anymore. I mean honestly, how many of us can stand ourselves enough to go sleep at night anyway? Not me. Poor bastard.
Its been a week tommorow, and the sheets don't smell like her anymore. She no longer hides in the corner of my visions like a spectre. I am both grieved and liberated at the same time.