Today is Monday...What Else is New
After reading this, I scrolled through my address book on my cell...nope nothing jumping off here.
Back to regularily scheduled programming:
Today is of course, if you haven't noticed it by now is indeed Monday. You know the day after Sunday. If there was any doubt in this most noteworthy account...check the blog date. Or if that wasn't good enough for the skeptics...too bad...you maybe too far gone at this point and I got to keep it moving.
I think Monday's are the epitome of will power testing. Monday is usually the gut tester to see if you can cut-it for the rest of the week. Cause if you can't hack it on Monday, just call out for the rest of the week...but I will spare you the rudimentary details of today, as you too...have your own story that desires to be backed by chin music...the violin.
Let's talk about this past weekend, I like Saturday better anyway:
Back Again:
I made it over to the NuYorican Poets Cafe...realized I missed that place. Every 3rd Saturday of the month is sort of a breath of fresh being inhaled into the blackened lungs of Hip-Hop. Here you won't find the countless barrige of emcees...or better yet entertainers viving for your attention by distracting you by blinding you with a ridiculously sized chain. Or rehashing the same material you heard last week on the radio, with that particularly suspect hook that plays for 25 Hours of the day. No at the NuYorican you are getting the un-cut raw...depending on the night...maybe even hi-potent.
This night in question was on the level of opening your windows during the summer months, to let the warm breeze settle in. Not too hot...not too cold. Just right. As usual, I found the need...or given birth right to step on stage...and let the rythmn hit em. Honestly when I freestyle in some cases becomes an outer body experince where I myself am sitting in the crowd and watch myself elevate to higher state of mind. The things that I some time find myself saying sometimes later make say, damn...I said that. Especially that night, cause it had been about 4 months since I stepped on stage, or even brought it from the top...well I almost forgot the radio appreance...ok so its been 3 months...sue me.
When I first had interest in writting and spitting...I almost entirely did everthing from off the top, nothing was ever written. There is this odd pardox in the Hip-Hop scene...People who are true to hip-hop...HIP-HOP...not artist imtating a movie character that people might somehow relate to, oppose to being oneself...appreiate the artform of bringing it from out of thin air. While the other half, well in opinion concentrate too heavyily on what could of easily been touched by a ghost (Ghost Writer) to judge their soul decision on ones greatness, or lack there of skillz. You see when I get into a "Cipher"...I have a full expectation of illest shit that is realivant to the current place and time (Snapping on someones shoes is a good one)...damn that written shit. I can't stand hearing what you wrote two weeks ago and you want to go head up...any true emcee...listens, waits, then oblitherates those oh so carefully scripted bars...that get melt down like gold at some flea market.
Not to say I haven't lost a battle here and there...but damn I can't even remember...stepping into a battle with written. I can remember sharpening up my skillz on the campus of Willy P in the late 90's. That's when I ate and slept hip-hop...then went to class. I miss that time...cause I knew that around every corner, tree, classroom door, etc. lied a potential opprotunity to flex the vocal and hypothalumus. Now its TPS Reports.
Back to regularily scheduled programming:
Today is of course, if you haven't noticed it by now is indeed Monday. You know the day after Sunday. If there was any doubt in this most noteworthy account...check the blog date. Or if that wasn't good enough for the skeptics...too bad...you maybe too far gone at this point and I got to keep it moving.
I think Monday's are the epitome of will power testing. Monday is usually the gut tester to see if you can cut-it for the rest of the week. Cause if you can't hack it on Monday, just call out for the rest of the week...but I will spare you the rudimentary details of today, as you too...have your own story that desires to be backed by chin music...the violin.
Let's talk about this past weekend, I like Saturday better anyway:
Back Again:
I made it over to the NuYorican Poets Cafe...realized I missed that place. Every 3rd Saturday of the month is sort of a breath of fresh being inhaled into the blackened lungs of Hip-Hop. Here you won't find the countless barrige of emcees...or better yet entertainers viving for your attention by distracting you by blinding you with a ridiculously sized chain. Or rehashing the same material you heard last week on the radio, with that particularly suspect hook that plays for 25 Hours of the day. No at the NuYorican you are getting the un-cut raw...depending on the night...maybe even hi-potent.
This night in question was on the level of opening your windows during the summer months, to let the warm breeze settle in. Not too hot...not too cold. Just right. As usual, I found the need...or given birth right to step on stage...and let the rythmn hit em. Honestly when I freestyle in some cases becomes an outer body experince where I myself am sitting in the crowd and watch myself elevate to higher state of mind. The things that I some time find myself saying sometimes later make say, damn...I said that. Especially that night, cause it had been about 4 months since I stepped on stage, or even brought it from the top...well I almost forgot the radio appreance...ok so its been 3 months...sue me.
When I first had interest in writting and spitting...I almost entirely did everthing from off the top, nothing was ever written. There is this odd pardox in the Hip-Hop scene...People who are true to hip-hop...HIP-HOP...not artist imtating a movie character that people might somehow relate to, oppose to being oneself...appreiate the artform of bringing it from out of thin air. While the other half, well in opinion concentrate too heavyily on what could of easily been touched by a ghost (Ghost Writer) to judge their soul decision on ones greatness, or lack there of skillz. You see when I get into a "Cipher"...I have a full expectation of illest shit that is realivant to the current place and time (Snapping on someones shoes is a good one)...damn that written shit. I can't stand hearing what you wrote two weeks ago and you want to go head up...any true emcee...listens, waits, then oblitherates those oh so carefully scripted bars...that get melt down like gold at some flea market.
Not to say I haven't lost a battle here and there...but damn I can't even remember...stepping into a battle with written. I can remember sharpening up my skillz on the campus of Willy P in the late 90's. That's when I ate and slept hip-hop...then went to class. I miss that time...cause I knew that around every corner, tree, classroom door, etc. lied a potential opprotunity to flex the vocal and hypothalumus. Now its TPS Reports.
posted by 9th at 7:38 PM
1 Comments:
*CTFU*
i think the NuYorican Poets Cafe is the equivalent to the apache cafe down hurr. the environment alone makes you high... off of fly beats and lyrics that actually mean something. definitely puts you in a zone!
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