I just finished eating a plain ol' house burger. It was equal parts greasy and unsatisfying. All while

watching the 4:00 news. What would make 40+ women so desperate to cling to their youthful appearance, that

they would let someone give them a birdshit facial? I don't give a fuck, if I woke up tomorrow morning

looking like Morgan Freeman's nutsack, there is no way I would pay someone to smear birdshit all over my

face. They call it a "nightingale facial". I guess because it was developed by Asians, and the places where

you get it done is run by sexy little Bai Lings this somehow makes it the thing to do. Well here's a hint,

Asians don't know any more than black folks, probably less considering all the Chinese food take out stores

located almost on top of each other in the deepest parts of the hood. I stopped patronizing those places

about 5 years ago because I found it to be insulting for them to be selling me food from behind a 6 inch

thick plate of bulletproof plexi-glass. You don't trust black people, but you want our business? Now you want

to smear our faces in birdshit? For a nominal fee?

  
           I haven't writen in here for awhile, mainly because of a lack of material.It would seem that anger, and

frustration sort of fuel this blog. If I don't have anything to bitch and moan about, then it's not really

all that satisfying to ingest. Truthfully, it's not all that interesting to write either. So lately the tides

have turned in a direction that I can live with, and the complaint center is closed for the time being. I

mean Elizabeth is away for 9 days straight, so I've been having my diner at the kitchen table. She lives in

the bathroom, and at the kitchen table. Everyday I'm like Craig's father in Friday. "Everytime I come in the

kitchen (smacking and licking his fingers) You in the kitchen. In the Goddamned refrigerator, eatin' up all

the food...." 
                        

   
        Anyhow, Albert is still getting on my nerves with his constant spying and reporting, and asking of stupid

questions that answer themselves. "Where are you going, outside?" "What are you eating, chicken?" It goes on

and on. My mom is still killing me with chores. She wanted me to clean the bottom of the refrigerator today,

but I didn't do it. I woke up this morning to the task of making 60 apples into a pitcher of apple juice

using the big loud ass industrial juicer. Making the juice was easy, and somewhat fun. Pretending that each

apple was somebody's head, like j. Scott, or Dick Cheyney. The nightmare is cleaning that sum'bitch.

    
        Even so, with all of that shit going on, I still managed to be......happy (gasp!) Two reasons.

    
       First is the music situation which seems to get a little better, and more promising each day. It comes

with a new set of problems, but they are the kinds of problems that I welcome. Last week we discussed doing a

Pinnacle Music Showcase with all the Pinnacle acts performing in a festival type setting. Oh joy the stage!

The problem is that the festival is roughly a month away, and I don't have any completed material at the lab.

Also the material that is close to being finished, I have no idea how that would go over in a live setting. I

also don't have a band. So inside of the next two weeks I need to try to put a band together, and rehearse

them a couple of times before the 26th. It's not impossible, and worse case scenerio, I do a short set of

covers. My chances of putting something together local have been bettered by the June 13th Buddhafest at

Tritone. I could just ask Buddha Jeff if his band "Tall Trees" would back me up. I was also invited to come

to the Buddahfest and man the commercial kitchen bakery next door and bake and sell cookies. How awesome is

that? I always wanted to try that place out, but I never really had the money. I also know I'm going to need

that kitchen to bake for the weekend flea markets this summer starting in early june. I also have a couple of

cookie platter orders coming up this week. Earlier in the week Felice printed up some more labels for me and

designed a new business card using new artwork I handpainted. I need to get more bags, and cards printed up.

So it's on and popping around here as they say, but the uncertainty about the show on the 26th is stressing

me out. Once I have a better idea of what I'm going to do, I will be able to fall back a little and complete

al these other missions. These are the problems I prayed for a couple of years ago, and my prayers have been

answered in abundance.Did I mention that the show is being shot for part of a film, and possible dvd release?

     
      I mean it's even a little more complicated than that.

     
        Second is that I've been hanging out with Meir quite regular. She's been getting me out and about to

some local events. We went to yoga cupcake hula hoop dance party a couple of weeks ago with Osiris. That was

fun, and I learned what does and doesn't bend on me in the yoga class at the end of the dance party.My elbow

was killing me for awhile. It was fun, and I made a couple of new friends in Red and Osiris.

     
          Then the following weekend we went to Dr. Sketchy's Fetish night at Fleisher's Art School. Essentially

for $15.00 we got to sit and draw a couple sexy lady fetish models and one slave (some poor sap that looked

like Buzz Lightyear/ Bob Crane in leather drawls.) One of the ladies was like 6 feet tall, and covered in

tattoos, the other one was a readhead that looked like a 4'11" Kathy Griffin. It was most tastefully done,

and there was no nudity/sex or anything disgusting, and there were some good artist in the crowd. There was

also a wine bar. We didn't have any wine, but we did have some metallic tasting tap water from the water

fountain in the hall. I haven't sketched live models since I was at the art institute. I forgot how much I

enjoyed that sort of thing. I have my new glasses now too, so I could see everything clearly. They also had

some good music playing.

      
          After that we broke out of there and went to the TLA to see Peaches. I had never really heard her

music before except for that song "Fuck The Pain Away" which was on Amanda's Myspace profile, and featured in

that movie "Lost in translation". She's sort of like a punk rock techno hip hop version of Millie Jackson

mixed with a little PINK. It was a high energy show complete with glow in the dark keytars,gold dookie rope

chains, lightsabres, and a coochie light (exactly what you think it is)! I may even have to buy one or two of

her albums. We had an awesome time. I got carded going in, and all I had was my expired non-driver's license.

I'm visibly almost 40, and the lady giving out wristbands wouldn't let me into the bar. It was like that

scene in Krush Groove where the Fat Boys are trying to get into the Fever nightclub. "We don't want to drink,

we just want to get on the mic!" I mean we paid like $25 dollars to get in that bitch. What;s the problem? So

Meir was in the bar, and I had to go into through the kid's enterance. The whole place is a bunch of

connecting doorways, and there was nothing stopping me from going around the other side and walking into the

bar area. The only thing that was stopping me was $10.00 pints of beer and $6.00 mixed drinks.I could see

Meir's reflection through the door in the bar mirror. She has a sexy back (among other things). Damn! Anyway,

I have to give her these sideways compliments so they don't sound like bullshit. Plus I never really have any

kind of follow up to the observations so that makes for excrutiatingly awkward pauses. Last night I told her

that she looked "well". I don't really know why I said that. I meant she looked amazing. I need to brush up

on my social skills. Anyway the lady at the wristband station had a change of heart and let me through the

grown folks side. She put a wrist band on me so I could drink. That was cool of her. we went down to the

floor, and Meir pushed her way to the front of the stage. That was really cool. I wanted to do the same

thing, but I didn't want her to think I was crazy. I have this thing where if I pay that much for general

admission, I generally need to be near the stage. We waited for the show listening to NERD "In Search Of"

album playing through the p.a. I have that album at home, and when I play it on my rig it sounds like shit

after the third song. At the TLA it sounded pretty awesome. We stood there texting each other about this

black girl in front of us with a busted weave that was ready to be set loose into the wild. Meir took a

picture with her phone. Good times.

      
         Last night we got together with Osiris again for the dance party. This time it was at World Cafe Live.

We got there just to find that it had been cancelled. Something about the d.j. not showing up or something.

The dude at the ticket counter seemed a little sinister in delivering the news. It was like that scene in

Casino where the two old dudes go up to the window to cash in their chips, and Joe Pesci is standing there

telling them that "Carmine isn't here anymore. He's across the street now." So we set out into the night to

see what's on and poppin' in Philly on the Sunday night before Memorial Day. I won't even tell Meir that

about a block up from where we were looking at the paper for events, there was Bubble House dance party in

the alcove between Walnut and Chestnut streets. Right in there where the Mad Mex and New Deck Tavern are. I

didn't find out until this morning from salt. I figured I would spare her those details. OOOPS.

      
          Osiris had on reflective alien green and white Pumas. He just got them, and he was most proud of them.

They were unique, and I would be doing the man a disservice if I didn't mention them up in this blog right

here.

      
          We rode around for awhile looking for stuff to get into. We were listening to a really boss c.d. of

Motown remixes. Somehow we ended up on South Street in search of banana splits? We had to park outside of

FISO so we could better admire their public nuisance violation sticker posted on the front door. They are

closed down. Yes! We took some pictures out in front of it. I will post them soon. FISO Lounge in short is a

shithole of a venue. It's music is always way too loud, their drinks watered down. The upstairs boast some

KOOL cigarette brand couches that you would not want to take a UV lamp to let alone sit on. They always have

a line outside for no fucking reason other than to give the appearance that something worthwhile might be

going on inside. The second coming of Tupac? Not even.

       
          After that we rode further down on South in search of that banana split. I don't know what was up

with Osiris. He was intent on getting that ice cream. We walked up South for a bit debating whether we should

get falafel or pizza. We ended up walking until we ran out of South Street. On front st. We stood outside the

Irish bar listening to some foul ass off key caturwauling. We thought it was karaoke night, but obviously it

was a band that got paid in drinks, and had gotten paid in advance.

        
              We stopped in the Haagen Dazs so Osiris could have at that banana split. He decided against it one

last time, and then we went to Maaz for Falafel. When we got there, the chick behind the counter was sizing

up Meir. I don't think she saw her, but it was really sexual. uh huh. Then we noticed the floor was sticky.

Then we had to wait for like 5 whole seconds while some old lady was adding fixin's to her falafel. Fuck that

we don't like to wait. We all have that in common. So we went across the street for pizza from Lorenzo's. How

the fuck Lorenzo's got night club security posted outside? A burly black dude with shades, an earpiece and a

shirt that read SECURITY. I'm almost sure boss had a gun and a taser. I didn't look too long, I kept it

moving. I was born to get tased over a slice of pizza. Anyway we got our pizza without incident, and for the

first time in years they didn't burn the bottom of my slice. I like it slightly burnt, but they always burn

it to where I have to tear off pieces of it and throw it away. So eating there is like playing the slots for

me.

         
           After we got our food, we headed back towards Front St. so we could sit on the South Street Bridge

and eat our slices. We found a nice spot where we could see everything and enjoy the cool night air. Ever

since I got these new glasses I have been seeing EVERYTHING. I saw a prairie dog sized rat about ten feet

from where we were sitting. I don't think I should have alerted Meir to it's presence. I'm not usually afraid

of things that I can stomp. Things I can't outrun? That's another matter. The rat froze and watched us for

awhile before disappearing into the darkness. Meir took a picture of the three of us on the bridge that looks

like a Family Stand album cover. It came out nice. I wonder if she could enlarge it. I would consider this a

night I would never want to forget. we had fun despite not being able to get my dance on. Seriously, I have

no dance skills. I didn't get to watch Meir do her thing. Osiris didn't get to break in the alien Green

Pumas.

            We headed back to the car. We passed a music store that had some vintage recording equipment in

the window, and some nice guitars. They were closed. We also found Jinxed which is a clothing, art, toy

store. They had some cool japanese impoerted figures in the window. I loved the Kid Robot figures and

especially the gorilla with the gun and the bag of money. I couldn't find it on the internet anywhere. I see

that a lot of those figures are like $50.00 and up. I might go there for that gorilla figure. They were

closed and I'm convinced that was a good thing, because I wouldn't have any money right now. I was trying to

keep something in my pocket in case there was a BPPM on Memorial Day.

           
               Meir and Osiris dropped me off at my crib after riding home head bobbing to Motown, and schooling

Osiris to the details of the Lex Street Massacre. I came in and went to sleep watching King of the Hill.

            Today I woke up and looked at the pics on my camera. Classic Girl.





            I was hoping that today there would be a BPPM. I didn't do the cookout thing this year. I was

invited to a cookout at Salt's mom's house on Saturday, but I wasn't trying to see Nettie, and I was working

on cookie dough, and baking some small local orders. The Bppm was cancelled because Cal had been invited to

two cookouts he couldn't turn down. He said maybe Sunday, and then the same thing happened, and again today.

It would be nice to know if we weren't doing it before noon. Half the day is over before we get a definite.

If I had known earlier I would have gone to the movies to check out Terminator. Whatever. we haven't had a

BPPM in about a month. I believe since the Penn Relays or before. I need to start planning an alternate for

the weekends. Pretty soon I'll be working the flea markets, and it won't be feasible anyway. I guess I'll put

on Afro Samurai Resurection and watch the last chapter, and then hit the weights.

            
          I've been doing the workout regularly, and so far I feel fatter and even more fatigued. I guess

I have been eating more junk since I started stressing about the show. I didn't eat anything except the

burger, but it was reduced fat surprisingly. I had it on wheat with a salad. I don't think I'm going to eat

again tonight. I was hoping we would be able to get into the Cheesecake Factory today. Oh well.

Knives out.

Keep up.

"Man is free at the instant he wants to be" ~ Voltaire

"Gimmie The Loot!" ~ Christopher Wallace a.k.a. Notorious B.I.G.

.....It's been a long week already. I'm exhausted, and I should probably take a nap instead of writing this.

I'm sick of napping. I'm sick of eating, and watching television. I have a lot on my mind, and I can't carry

this shit around anymore.

     Last week I reached out to my friend Candace over at the Bambi Project. If you're not familiar, it's an

art gallery/ consignment shop. It was up in Fishtown, but recently she got a bump up, and now it's located in

Northern Liberties. A couple of years ago or more I can't remember, I went into a consignment deal with

Candace to sell Paws Off shirts in her store. I think we moved about a dozen of them.I like consignment,

because it's not a handout, and if it's marketed right, both parties stand to make nice money. It was great

test marketing, and I am grateful for Candace hooking me up. On the flipside of that, there was always a

weirdness to our relationship, and I never addressed it. I just kept walking on the sunny side so to speak.

Anyway everybody knows how Paws Off was this collossal failure, and it killed me financially. I'm still

embarrassed to talk about how long it took me to pay off the website only to deconstruct it the same year

that I paid it off. 

      Anyway, I remember at the time of our dealings, I was screenprinting the shirts myself to cut cost, and

just to teach myself the trade. I got to be pretty good at it, except I couldn't guarantee the quality, and

all the fuck ups were costing me almost as much as it would cost to have them outsourced. If nothing else, I

got a nice education out of this. So a couple of times there were some indiscretions with the garments, and I

had to replace them out of my pocket, and ultimately I ended up making nothing if I didn't lose money on the

whole thing. What I did gain from the experience was that a.) I'm not crazy, the design appealed to people,

and b.) My success is the only thing more intimidating than my success potential.

      Fast forward a couple of years to a couple of weeks ago. I had finished the packaging for the cookies,

and at this point, I don't think they need anymore fine tuning. I mean you can always improve on something,

but any improvements I make will have to wait until I can turn this into some real money. Personally I think

the packaging is finally as good as the product itself, and the product is off the fucking chain, fuck

bitches.

      So all there is to do now is to place and sell the product. I figured I would call Candace up and hit

her off with this new product. I emailed her because that's pretty much the only way to catch up to her. I

sent her the link to the website, and I suggested I come through, and we have a sitdown. I even offered to

bring her a complimentary platter of assorted, which retails for like $42.00. Her response was simply that

she doesn't think the cookies would sell there. She's moving into a bigger space, and she's sooooo busy that

she can't keep up with the artist, and the consignment anymore. She has a woman that handles consignment for

her and she can already tell me what she's going to say. She says there's a store next door called Dolphin

that sells "quirky" things, and they may throw me a bone if I ask them. Hmmmmmmm. I don't know what it's like

to be on the cover of the City Paper. I just know that there's something about local fame that changes the

stripes on a few zebras.

      By now, I should just let these things roll off my back. This kind of stuck with me, and it upset me.

Only because it's a pattern. The same thing happened a few years back with Megan at Vagabond with the

firstt-shirts. Some bullshit about my imagery conflicting with her business partner's religeous beliefs. I

mean if you can't get your peeps to support the movement, what's the point really? I mean I already know how

this is going to turn out. It's a superior product, as is Paws still, and I am going to see both these

ventures through to success. I mean by the time people stop fronting, and give in to my gangster genius, the

only real satisfaction will be me flipping those stupid hoes the bird as I roll by in my Mercedes whatever

the fuck they'll be pushing in 2020.

In the meantime I have other stupid shit to deal with.

      Now there's this music thing. I have been at this since I could talk practically. I'm the best at it

only because I've been consistantly doing it for so long. I don't have any confidence issues when it comes to

this or my art. Call it what you want, it's like that.

      What I don't understand is why, and mind you I know it's the "why" of any situation that will kill you,

still I can't help asking, Why are the people closest to me trying to make my success so hard to obtain?

      You may or may not know that recently I entered into a production situation with my Jersey people at

Pinnacle Music. It's the greatest opportunity that ever opened itself to me as an artist. I mean aside from

all the tools being there, and the place being littered with amazing talent and hard working artists, people

respect each other's gangster genius over there, and it's the only time I ever feel like I'm in a room with

people on equal footing.I mean they are doing some serious projects in there that I may not be at liberty to

speak about at this point. All I'm saying is that I want to meet their level of commitment, and excellence.

     Major hooked me up with a pre-production situation here at the house, so whenever I have a musical idea,

I can pretty much record it on the spot, and for the most part email the session to the lab for when I'm over

there, or if somebody is just looking for tracks. The notion of that alone gives me goosebumps, and you would

think that I would be in a constant state of creativity, and production. If I was alone in here, I would do

an album a week minimum. I mean I know I would experience burnout at some point either sooner or later, but

the situation is so new, that I keep coming up with shit every 5 minutes. I even wake up in the middle of the

night and hit the red button.

     About a week ago, I finally figured out the perfect combination of drums in the program. There's so much

shit in there, that it could literally take years to go through and use every component, or combination of

components in there. I don't have that kind of time, so I was recording and experimenting the whole time I've

been using the program. What has been happening has been a series of "happy accidents". Last week I found a

way to layer horns, and strings, and in seperate tracks on my Akai DPS16. Before I was sequencing everything

in reason, and then transporting it to the Akai which makes for some shitty mixes later. So bacically what I

did was put myself in a virtual band. I thought about what instruments I would have in my band, and found the

best possible combos of those instruments, and went to using them on every track I recorded this week and

last. If it were a real band, there would be 12 pieces. Anyway I'm playing 12 seperate parts into 14 tracks,

and now I can actually play everything that I hear in my head. Usually I start out with an idea, and then I'd

get all sidetracked because I couldn't find the sounds I needed. Fortunately I would still come away with

some decent tracks, but this new shit........

      The problem is a famiiar one. This house isn't big enough for me and my mom. I have been here for

almost six years now. I appreciate this house, and my mom for letting me live here. I mean I fell really

hard, and that was way before the recession. I never really got it back like I had it. There were a few times

where I could have moved out, and kept working that shitty catering job, but I gambled on myself, and sunk

even deeper. I will say that I am a whole lot better off than I was when I first got here. Most of the major

problems I had then are gone. No more J. Scott Catering Pshiiiit! I fell off with the Paws thing, but I got

back on my grind, and here we are in the midst of Love & Luxury cookies. I haven't had a jump off yet, but I

have a small client base in Kansas, and I sold cookies to State Representitive Dwight Evans! Some people

don't even get this far their whole lives. I always felt like no matter how far you took something, you can

always take it one step further at least. I know now that this doesn't apply to EVERYTHING, but it it does

apply to business.

       So my resolve as far as cookies is to hit the flea markets, and I'm already a month late. If I'm going

to prove Doc Israel wrong by doing a bunch of shit all at once, I'm going to need some kind of schedule to

balance my art/music/cookie empire. I keep running through my mind what I need to do and how to divide the

time wisely. First off there needs to be a time of day preferably early in the morning where I make cookie

dough. Sunday would be ideal. Then there has to be a separate day where I bake again early in the morning. So

far the schedule looks like this:

6:30 a.m. wake up, shower and shave, get dressed. Glance at Yahoo

7:00 a.m. run on the treadmill/ lift weights for an hour to Jay-Z's Blueprint or Def Leppard's Hysteria

8:00 a.m. shower again. Get dressed

8:15 a.m. In the kitchen making dough watch Today show.

10:00 a.m. Clean kitchen while watching Rachel Rae, write out grocery list, turn on phone,  make calls

11:00 a.m. Any errands Doc Israel/ grocery store/ Manda Panda Lunch Thursdays (not really an errand LOL!)

3:00 p.m. Music production.

6:00 p.m. Break. Check Yahoo for orders, Facebook for whatever, Tube 8 for porn, bookmark for later.

7:00 p.m. Dinner maybe, more production. Would like to be getting some painting in here.

11:00 p.m. treadmill again for an hour to Deathcab's narrow Stairs, Chrisette Michele's Epiphany or Miles'

Kind of Blue. CNN, brush teeth. date with tube 8 then whatever, ideally sleep.

        Now it sounds simple, and it's really full of holes mainly because I'm tired as fuck right now, and

my mom wouldn't leave me alone long enough to draft this out, so I had to do it inside this blog while the

getting was good.

        My days usually consist of really random bullshit and odd jobs around here. I get all the other crap

listed above in between all of that other shit.

        Today before 9:00 a.m., I managed to wash the breakfast dishes, mop the kitchen floor (because the

contractors were coming over to do some work in the kitchen?) and remove all the old caulk and grout from the

upstairs bathroom to make it easier for the contractors who are getting paid to do that shit to put in new

grout?

        when I was a little kid, my mother used to always make it a point for me to remain humble because I'm

gifted. That still doesn't make sense to me 35 years later. I could see if I was even a little arrogant, but

WTF? Anyway, she still makes it a point to let me know daily that I'm nothing special, and that I should

never be above an honest days work. I'm not above hard work. I am above double work, and stupid work, and I

hate chaos.

         When I was like 10 years old, I would be in my room drawing for hours. I wouldn't eat, or sleep.

I've ruined many drawings by falling asleep on top of them and drooling in my sleep. My mom would always call

me to come and do something stupid. " Get down here and take out the trash!" "Your food is getting cold, and

you'e still going to eat every bit of it!" "get in here and wash these dishes!" I'd have to stop drawing my

masterpiece, and walk past all of them sitting there watching Star Search or Hee Haw or some shit and take

out trash. It would be shit that somebody else whose ass wasn't doing anything could have done, but I needed

to be taught a lesson about humility.

         Well here we are almost 35 years later and my brain keeps rejecting the program. I never really

wondered about my birth parents, because fuck them, but I do wonder if either one of them was or is artistic

in any way. I think they would have maybe known how to nurture genius. You don't punish the moody,

anti-social narcissistic child. It's not his fault that he's creative. It's a gift and a curse. I think the

whole reason I was given up was because my real parents were successful artist, and didn't have time for a

baby. They were like "fuck this, I've got a sponsored art exhibit in Paris this spring!" or " I'm going on

tour with Earth Wind and Fire this month, and then it's on to some dates with Mandrill!" I could dig it.They

were probably holding me up looking at me to see if I looked talented. They probably thought I was retarded

or something. Like most people think I am now.

         Anyway I'm going to try and put this schedule into effect again this week. Tomorrow is my day at the

lab, so it'll be like a working vacation. I have like eight tracks on deck. Two of them are going on my

album. So if Major is reading this, can we stop for Chic Fil et breakfast?

         I feel better that I turned off my phone, and ignored the flashing light to write this. I'm glad I

don't own a firearm.

         I think Patrice is mad at me about something. It's easy for people to be angry with me, and they can

stay angry for a long time too. It's sort of like I'm not valuable enough to sweat too hard. I'm like

everybody's #6 friend and shit. It is bothering me though, and I might have to call and do some recon work on

our friendship. Or I could just be reading the situation all wrong, but nobody understands women, not even

other women, so I won't leave this up to chance for much longer.

         I did manage to make a couple of cookie sales though. Thank you Queen RO and Monica!

         I would also like to ask anybody who reads this, and has also had my cookies at one point or another

to send me a testimonial that I can use on the website. It doesn't have to be much, maybe a couple of

sentences.Hopefully something nice. I'd appreciate it. you can leave it on the site under contact us in the

comments box. If you haven't experienced them yet, here's a shameless plug.

http://www.loveandluxurycookies.com

Stop all the time trying to kill somebody. Try Loving Somebody. Buy some cookies.

Knives out.

Keep up.

.....Last night I went to a Yoga/dance/hula-hoop/cupcake party with Meir at Studio 34. No, not the old

Booty-clappin'fish grease and lilacs baby oiled up stretch marked dimpled ass cheeks bad trac showing whores

on the set of Gary Numan's Cars video strip club Studio 34 of yesteryear on Broad St. (I know, the good old

days).This Studio 34 is a nice yoga studio on Baltimore Ave near 46th. We had been talking about this event

since the first time we went to that wretched Fiso Lounge. Meir missed her April party (they have it on the

second Friday of every month) to go with me to that industry thing. I knew she was missing something better,

I just didn't know what. I know now, and I hate Fiso even more now if that's possible.

     She brought along her friend Osiris. He's a guitar player who is well travelled, and quite knowledgable

about music and Terence Trent D'arby as our discussion on the way to the studio would prove. Meir had

Terence's "Niether Fish Nor Flesh" album playing in her car. It's my favorite of all the T.T.D. albums. I

hadn't heard it in a long time since I lent my copy of it out. So it was nice to hear "and I need to be with

someone tonight" They were both singing along and it was most pleasant. I'm not good around people, and I'm

even worse around new people, so I didn't say anything all the way to the studio.

     The first thing you notice about the studio when you open the door is the huge flight of red narrow

stairs that lead up to the studio. Once we got up there we paid our five dollars to get in. I know five

dollars! The cupcakes were worth that alone. Meir introduced us to a tall fellow named "Ginko" I think that's

what he said his name was. He was really nice, and he welcomed us in, and we went over to the cupcake table.

The cupcakes were vegan. There were a few different kinds. I didn't have any because I'm not much of a

frosting/icing eater, and I hate the idea of trying to remove frosting from anything in public. That's

ignorant. I could tell that they were good. People were putting them away all night. Then we went to the

dance floor. I can't dance to save my life. They were playing some really good music. It was an honest

mixture of club, pop, electronica, punk, all mixed together, and with precision. Already they are killing

Fiso. Meir and I noticed the lack of bass as a measure of crowd control. treble=peace and harmony, bass= not

so much. Anyway Meir and Osiris took to the floor, and began dancing like the other people who were there

before us. I guess God was like "You can be a musician, and an artist, or a dancer, but not all of them." I

think I chose wisely, but I do wish at times I could manage a move or two on occasion. I did however find a

kinship with the hula hoop. I can't do that well either, but it allowed me to participate on a limited basis.

This is where my competitive nature comes out. Meir is good with the hoop. I can't let that hula hoop get the

best of me. I am seriously considering taking a hula hoop class at the studio. Later that night Meir's friend

Red came in, and we were introduced. He is called Red I assume because he is the color of Red. I could be

wrong, and just being ignorant, but I'm going to go with my gut on this one. He was a really mellow cat, and

we chatted a bit about music, and drums and percussion, and about healing, and hustling in general.He gave me

his number so that we could get together and jam on something in the future. I put his info in my Crackberry.

I didn't have a pen so I said I would e-mail him my info. I will do this right after I complete this entry.

      So we hula hooped a while longer, and then they threw out some yoga balls, and we batted those around

for a minute, and then they started winding down for the yoga portion. I saw Tuphace there. He kind of blew

me off like the rest of those Nouveau Riche people seem to do nowadays. I was handed a yoga mat and a blanket

as was everyone else. Now I've done yoga before, but on an extremely novice level. Taj and I had started

doing it a couple of years ago before she met Mark. We would watch Namaste on Fit t.v. For awhile it was

productive, and then all of a sudden they started using these Penthouse models, and all kinds of crazy ariel

camera angles. I can see how Taj lost interest. I kept watching, but it was real hard to watch all those

arses and breasteses, and focus at the same time. I had gotten off to watching in my bathrobe, while eating

big bowls of cereal, and then drifting off into long naps where I had some really deviant dreams. This is the

opposite result of yoga I'm sure. It's supposed to RELEASE tension. Ah-ha!

       Then the Yoga began. What a way to find out how out of shape you really are. I was right next to Meir,

and I know I was supposed to be focusing, and most people had their eyes closed. I was watching her and

thinking to myself Gawddamn she's hellalimber! What a way to find out how short your legs are. I could do

about half of the poses with ease, but that other half.....I mean shit is cracking and poping, and I had no

idea how tight my hamstrings are. People are focusing and moving with grace. I loked over at Osiris, and he

was doing all the moves pretty well dispite his lankiness. I was praying my phone didn't start ringing. I

actually reached over at some point and turned it off. Before we started the yoga, Tyra was text messaging me

and sending me pictures of herself. She sent me the same picture three times in a row. She also sent it once

earlier in the day. I don't know what she wants me to do. I assume when a chick sends you a bunch of pictures

of herself for no obvious reason, she must want to get together. So I called her this morning, and she was

all snippy with me talking about "I'm at work!" I'm like never the fuck mind. Obsessive conpulsive passive

aggresive rears it's ugly head. Anyway, I pretty much faked my way through the yoga, meaning I did the best I

could. Holding downward facing dog is hard for fat people. Ask me how I know.

        At the end there's a cool down portion where you put the blanket over you. Not a moment too soon,

because it was effing freezing. I looked over at Meir and she looked really relaxed. I was in all kinds of

pain. Then I felt really tired, and then after I got home, I was really revved up. I think I'm going to try a

beginners class. I know that if I pay money for it, I will have to do it. That's fucked up.

        After the party Meir gave us all a lift to where we live. She drove Red all the way to Glenside,

which is a trek from where we were. Salt's mom lives out there, and when we drive out there, we have to stop

for snacks. That's how far it is. Imagine having to drive that far after one of those orgasmic yoga sessions.

        I got back here, and I couldn't go to sleep. Miles and I had a snack of sausage and chips. Miles ate

most of it. I went on Facebook for a minute. Nobody responds to my status anymore. Nobody really follows me

on Twitter either. I was going to write this blog entry, but I got derailed by a bammer. I think it's because

I'm still getting used to my new glasses.

        Anyway I sat on the couch, and blacked out. I had a dream that I shot myself in the head. I think

it's because I watch way too much Drinky Crow.

        Earlier that day Salt and I hung out. We went to Lowe's, and then to Target, and Best Buy. My mother

wants a new stainless steel toaster to go with her new stainless steel kitchen. So I was looking around

trying to price them. I know I can get a better deal on Amazon, but not before Mother's Day which is

tomorrow. I was about to buy a copy of Afro Samuri season 1 director's cut, but again, there's bound to be a

better deal on Amazon, which I was right, and I'm going to order a copy right after I send Red my info.

        Everytime I'm in the Best Buy on Columbus BLVD. There's this fat white guy that works in there. He

looks like a fatter version of the lead singer from Smashmouth. He always stands way too close to me when I'm

shopping in there. He's doing a poor job of casing me. Sometimes he even asks if he can help me with

something.He's going to catch me on the right day, and I'm going to tell him he can help me by stuffing a

Sprite can up the tip of his penis. I wanted to make sure I was right about him following me, so I went over

to the Rock Band Metallica demo station and started rocking out with Hetfeld and company. Sometimes white

people hate when you know their music. I gets down with Metallica. Not only do I know all of their songs, I

own every album from And Justice For All up to Death Magnetic. I'm seriously considering buying a

Playstation3 just so I can get their Rock Band game. I want to rock out with a tiny baby guitar too. So this

fat pantload stands there watching me perform Ride The lightning. I smoked that shit! Then he followed me

over to the software section where I priced the usb turntables. They had a good deal, but now I don't want to

spend my money there. I want to stab this motherfucker. I wonder if people have any idea how close they come

to getting assed up daily?

         So we leave there and go to Target. Salt and I decide to go halfsies on a copy of NOTORIOUS. I've

only been waiting to see it since it came out. Salt saw it already and says it's pretty good. So the deal was

that I would take the digital copy to put on my computer and ipod, and I would get the regular disc later and

 make a copy of it. I guess we fucked around in the store too long, and we had to rush to get Naeemah her car

back. So we didn't have time to break up the package, and Salt took it home. He's working all this weekend,

so what did I pay for exactly? This would have been the perfect weekend to watch it too seeing as though the

BPPM was cancelled again this weekend. My studio session was also cancelled, and I really didn't have a

back-up plan but guess who did?

         I'm sitting around here after waiting half the day to hear from Cal if we were hanging out or not. I

realise that I have "Yoga elbow" Ouch! I'm thinking I can get some work done on a track that I started

yesterday, and then finish painting the artwork for the website that I was supposed to have to Felice last

Thursday. So after my mom figures out I'm not going to Lansdale because it's way after 3:00 p.m. she starts

doling out assignments. I'm to finish shampooing the carpet on the second floor, and then steam clean James'

chair in his room because he "messed" it. I don't know what that means exactly, but I'm not even fucking with

that. Incontinent motherfuckers should have plastic furniture. Nuff said. I'm going to hell? Whatever.

         The kitchen was full of dirty dishes for the second time today. I got in there and cleaned it up

just in time to have it fucked up again for dinner. They all went out for a couple of hours, and I watched

"Forgetting Sarah Marshall" on Demand. Albert tried to sneak his Rhino sized girlfriend up the stairs past

me. Like I give a shit. The living room is all mirrors. I can see everything. I saw some Jehovah's Witneses

rolling up on the porch this morning and headed them off. I opened the door and told them NOTHANKYOU! Waving

both hands over my head like an air traffic controller. They put their Watchtowers back in their bags and

walked away without incident.

          So I havent shampooed the carpet, and like I said I'm not going near that chair in James' room. I'm

also supposed to be vacuuming my mom's car. Taking the back seat out and all of that nonsense. I don't see

that happening either. I've learned from watching my younger brother, and my sister that it's easier to agree

to do it, and then just not do it. You get your shit done, and my mom pays Albert to do her stupid crap, and

we all come out winners. YAY!

          Tomorrow is Mother's Day. We are having a cookout in the backyard. I hate when this happens. That

just means there's going to be people that make me sick running in and out of here all day, and extra trash

and recycling at the end of the day. I know I'm going to drink that whole bottle of wine tomorrow. I may even

take up smoking.

          Other than that, shit is the same as it ever was around here. I woke up this morning to the

Saturday edition of the Today show. It's where everybody takes off and leaves Lester Holt to run the studio

by himself. He was talking to some lady with a travel show on the Travel channel about the best places to

vacation during the recession. On the West Coast it was San Francisco on the East Coast it was.....drum roll

please....Philadelphia! They showed all that boring shit in Olde City, the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall,

all that overpriced outside dining and shit. All I could think about is how we are the #15 most violent city

in America. They might as well add Camden to us because you could throw a rock and hit it from here. We

average at least 3 hit and run incidents a week. What is in our water supply that makes people drive all

crazy running over old people crossing the street, and little kids getting ice cream from the ice cream truck

and then not stopping? This is an evil place. If your not from here, don't come here. Save your money and

maybe your life and check out Salt Lake City or Seattle, they have a Space Needle!

           I'm breaking out to try to finish this track I started because it's most dope. Maybe I'll get to

the carpet, but fuck James' couch!

           I leave you with the Mightymuggs Lando Calrissian action figure. The only thing that would make

this cooler is if it had a can of Colt 45 instead of a blaster.

Knives out.
     
Keep up.

....How dead is Myspace? It was only a matter of time before some new whizbang would come along, and everyone

would turn tail and head towards the bright light. I have been over at Facebook for the last couple of

months. I've never been a facebooker, and I still have issues with their interface. Most of my friends are

over there, and it's helped me catch up to some old friends that I haven't seen in years. I can update my

status and message people from my cell phone, and it's networking potential is endless. I've also become a

Twitter addict/idiot. I have been following a whole bunch of people on there, mainly the war between Steve

Buscemi and Oprah. That shit is madfunny. Especially if you're following both of them. I follow CNN and

Anderson Cooper, John Mayer,VIBE magazine's editor in chief Danyl Smith, and porn star Belladonna to name a

few. Then I also use it to keep up with my labelmates and label head at Pinnacle Music. It's been an awesome

way to keep abreast of the happenings over there when I'm over here. I also follow all the Def Jam feeds.I

got a heads up that Chrisette Michele's "Epiphany" album is available for $2.99 digital download at

Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/Epiphany/dp/B0027RSGN2/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&s=dmusic&qid=1241658346&sr=8-7
Already Twitter is informing my life, and saving me money.

    I never thought I would see the day where I was too busy to blog. It's like my 9th favorite thing to do

in the world. It's really cathartic. Things have been changing gradually, and for the better. The music

situation is great, and it's keeping me on my creative game. I'm at the studio twice a week working on my

album, and various other projects, and I've opened up a writing situation with my labelmates J. Ammo, and

Alaina Nelson at my house whenever time permits. They were here last Sunday, and the session proved to be

productive, which is all you can ask for really. So far they have managed to turn at least three of my

compositions into hot songs. I was going to scrap some of that stuff, and they rescued it. They are awesome

writers and singers.I could go on, but you get what I'm saying. It's just really hard to contain my glee.

    Other than that things are pretty much the same more or less. Since I'm not really here most of the time,

Albert and Elizabeth seem less annoying. I'm still going to therapy with Doc Israel on Thursdays. He just got

back from Africa last week after a month away. I had to see this other African Doctor named Finley. He kept

telling me these sad stories about people running over little kids and then having phobeas about driving cars

afterwards. He was trying to explain to me the effects of post traumatic stress. I know what they are seeing

as though I suffer from it. I think he didn't really have the material to fill a whole hour. So for the most

part I was getting used to getting out of there early, and out to lunch with Manda Panda. Lately we've been

doing the Irish Pub. They have good food, and they are close enough that we don't spend half of the time

walking to there. So nothing's really changed about that. We have fun, we talk, and I take more crazy

pictures of her and our food.

    Speaking of food, there hasn't been a BPPM for a couple of weeks now. It feels weird, because for a long

time that was all I had to look forward to. I still look forward to it the same, it's just that now if it

gets cancelled, I have other stuff to do. I can't remember what I used to do all weekend, but it wasn't

productive. I also managed to lose a few pounds. I don't know if it's because of all the running around I do

now, or because I'm not eating like a madman everytime I sit down to a table. I think since my creative nerve

has been stimulated, I don't have that need to fill a hole in my soul. Yesterday I recorded like 4 songs in a

row, and I totally forgot to eat dinner. That hasn't happened since the 80's. I remember when I first started

having regular sex, I didn't eat right for like 2 years. I look like Chris Rock as "Pookie" in New Jack City

in some of my old pictures. I ended up eating dinner at around 3:00 a.m.while talking to Patrice on the

phone. Even then I wasn't really hungry, but I could feel a bammer comming on, so I figured I'd better eat

something. I made this big breakfast of sausages and home fries, and then I could only manage a few bites.

Anyway, I didn't get to sleep until around about 9:30. 

     In between all of that, I've managed to get out a couple of times for recreation with some mighty fine

women. I went to brunch with Denise a couple of weeks ago at Mad Mex. I haven't been there in a while. I

usually go there with Taj for margarita's and shrimp and fungi tacos. Anyway I had some crunchy tacos and a

banana margarita. That margarita was loaded with tequila. Then we went for a breif look around Urban

Outfitters. I got to sample Gwen Seffani's "Love" fragrance from her Harajuku Lovers collection. It's the

most beautiful fragrance in the world, and if I ruled the world, all women would smell like this. I suggested

it to Amanda only to be met with protest. Women are as funny as their reasons for not doing certain things.

She still has her juicy couteur. She's not safe around me with that shit on. It's a beast. Seriously, all

bets are off. Just sayin'.

     Meir and I made a second appearance at Fiso lounge last week. She won an after work party at the last

thing we went to there in a drawing. She came and picked me up here at the house. I was on the porch talking

to Big D and Tyra. He finally brought my vacuum cleaner back after like two weeks. I introduced them to Meir.

It's weird how we all went to the same school and nobody knows anybody. Then we stopped at 30th street

station on the way so Meir could pick up her Amtrak tickets. She walks so fast. I wonder if she walks that

fast all the time. She's like 4 steps to my one. I have short legs, so it takes me forever to walk anywhere.

I must have looked like a cartoon character trying to keep up with her. I love 30th street station. Most of

time I go into a panic in wide open spaces like that, but it's the sense of adventure everytime I'm there.

There's something about boarding a train out of here. I almost don't even care where it's going.

     We left there and made it to Fiso in time for one free drink. I'm no good on the smallest bit of

alcohol, so I just had a coke. We walked through the club, and it was pretty much the same as it was last

time. Way too loud, and people just sitting around drinking, or walking around. We have to laugh at the

"KOOL" couches. I mean come on. Black couches with the KOOL cigarette logo on the backs. I would love to take

an ultra violet lamp to those jawns. I would not be surprised by anything I found on them. Fiso is a class

act. We went out back and sat on the patio. There were two little skinny Jamaican guys sitting out there

smoking weed. I mean they were little like rastafarian oompa loompas. It looked like they had set up shop out

there, and when we sat down they left. We had a conversation about a bunch of things. I told her that story

about how I met Prince at the Academy of Music that one time. You have to realise that I haven't brought that

up for at least two years. It's the single greatest thing that's ever happened to me. Anyway, after I told

that story, I didn't have anything else to say really. I started saying some stupid crap like I always do.

What I was trying to say to Meir was that I am so in awe of her as an artist. She does all the stuff that I

do in my mind before I pull the covers over my head go back to sleep. She just seems to have so much creative

fun all the time, she goes all over the world, and tries all kinds of new things all the time, and here I am

sitting with her at Fiso with nothing to say of any interest. She also has the biggest prettiest eyes. When

is it appropriate to mention that to someone?

      We left Fiso, and went, at my suggestion, to South Street Sounds just up the street. I hadn't seen Jeff

and Leonna for a long time, and I needed to pick up a mike stand. As soon as we stepped inside I realised why

I don't frequent their store anymore. Leonna can't stop talking to give anyone decent service. When we walked

in, she was talking to this tall black guy with long dreads. I had seen him before. His name is Daniel, and

he and his twin brother are black goth, street performers. Neeman is friends with Lana who used to be the

drummer in my band. Anyway, Leonna was talking to him, and she didn't seem surpised to see me at all. I

wanted to compliment her new haircut, but she wouldn't stop talking. Meir and I looked at instruments. It's

so small in there that it only takes about 5 minutes to see all their stock. I saw a cool red pocket

trumpet.I also saw a tele copy that looks like my hohner TE Custom. It was like $149.00. Not bad for a piece

that nice. I wonder what it sounds like fired up. Anyway I finally got around to introducing myself to Daniel

even though we've been introduced at least a hundred times over the years at different shows and parties.

Leonna never knows how much anything in the store costs so she had to call Jeff upstairs, and not a moment

too soon. He gave me a good deal on the mike stand.  He also couldn't let me leave without telling me that

Johnny Double was still coming there working on the Sinister Candy record. I'm pretty much over all that I'm

sure. I feel kind of sorry for him now. What kind of record is this thing going to be when it's finished? I

can't even imagine now.

      We left there, and Meir dropped me off back at the house. I don't really remember much after that.

We've been keeping up on Facebook, and we text here and there. There's a yoga, hula hoop, cupcake party on

Friday night with Meir. I'm looking forward to it. I have to ask her what one wears to one of these

gatherings.

      Since then, I've been doing the usual. Still hanging out with Salt in home Depot, and Lowe's. Staying

up late watching Drinky Crow, and Venture Brothers on demand. I'm in the middle of season 2 of Sopranos, and

so far I haven't seen a single episode of the Tudors Season 3. I think they are already 6 episodes in.

There's something about the television that puts me to sleep. I think my vision is getting worse. I'm going

to the optomologist tomorrow afternoon after lunch with Manda Pants to see about some spectacles.

      The day before yesterday Salt and I went to see Wolverine. It was okay. It was no Iron Man or Dark

Knight. I would advise anyone else who hasn't seen it to wait for DVD. Next Friday is Star Trek! How excited

are you about that? Hopefully there will be a BPPM that weekend, and we can all see it together. I have seen

Cal a couple of times between meetings, and I spoke with Mark on the phone over the weekend. Hopefully we can

get it together this week.

       My studio session was cancelled today because two of Major's daughters are sick. Hopefully they are

feeling better. I know all too well the stress of having a sick baby, he has two. So I stayed in mainly

because it's rainy and shitty outside. It's like London here lately. I painted some artwork for the website,

and I slept mostly. The twitter alarms on my cell kept waking me up. I came on here to turn them off. Some

people Twitter way too much about mostly bullshittt.

       So I suppose that's it until I can get the hang of writing regular again. I have a bottle of Pinot

Evil that I've been dying to crack open. It's cheap wine, but it's pretty good, and I was hoping to drink it

with a nice lady, but if that didn't happen , I would drink it naked painting on the giant canvasses I bought

last week. I have always wondered what would happen if I got drunk first then triewd to paint something. It

doesn't work with music. I lose all rhythm, and coordination. I think a painting would be dope though.

      I was on Tube 8 looking for porn as usual. I found some, but when I went to look at it, it looked like

the discovery channel. It just looked like animals fucking. It wasn't even erotic. I think I have burned out

on this. I think I need to stop being so particular and just meet a nice girl and get it over with. I have

officially moved into "girlfriend" status with Denise. I don't think I like this at all. I mean it's like

that with mostly all the women I know, but I never had any of them confirm it until now. What's the solution

to this? Just start hitting on them all of the time? Grabbing asses? I don't know anymore.

      With that I will shut it down now. I have to get back over to Facebook!.........What?

Knives out

Keep up.