of 2010... the best

songs...

telephone - shad
all i want is you - miguel feat. j. cole
maybach music 3 - rick ross and friends
window seat - erykah badu
i want you - cee-lo
rose garden - shad
up all night - drake
over - drake
i need a dollar - aloe blacc
taxi - mos def

albums...

thank me later - drake...
i'm thanking him now, many a drunken and contemplative night (not neccesarily mutually exclusive) i found myself listening to this album. anyone who can appreciate the failure (or success) of catching the last subway on a friday or saturday night to kipling or the untouchable feeling that two bottles of grey goose will do to you and your crew will understand.
the personification of 'act as if'.

tsol - shad...
tis a great thing to see your friends shine at what they are awesome at.
telephone still makes me smile like he wrote it for me.
yaa i get it makes me rewind and screw my face up.
rose garden makes me pick myself up and try again.

the sea - corrine bailey rae...
i want to hug her.
take her argyle shopping. sip tea street-side with her.
and just observe her from a distance all at the same time.
folk said the first album was way too sugary, this album was straight no chaser, hurt and love lost from the inside looking out. album plays like a story you know the end to, but must finish nonetheless.

girl meets world

girl meets world

moving too fast

still getting

put on blast

for dirty dishes

battling dirty deeds

one tear at a time

crime pays

so she in line

for unemployment

cheques bounce

like her head nods

to instrumentals

new essential

nutrients

finding solace

in the snare

and benevolence

in the bass

reminiscent of

space and time

lunchroom rhymes

of fellas playing

hook line and sinker

with moves

that would only

sink her

self-wealth but

investments

in real

self-interest

has her out of the red

no more being

smoked out

choked out

looking for a

way out

in the mirror

images are clearer

12 mega-pixels

in the graduation

picture

from hey young girl

to woman

of the world

knowledge is power

so she bats clean-up

always coming home

to the real fan

real man in her life

lil’ man learning

how to clean up

respecting when..

she cleans up

after him

and doesn’t

holla or stare when…

she cleans up

mother not ma

when she steps out

careful not show out

rockin the clutch

in clutch moments

still learning and atoning

all the while growing

world meet girl…

accept her and  her terms

word.

guy and madeline on a park bench

Being a fan of indie flicks is a May - December relationship, armed with not much more than a brief synopsis and a trailer, if that, you often go in on a flick and sometimes come way very disappointed. This past week i caught a flick i had very little to go on, guy and madeline on a park bench. Described as a jazz musical, it caught my eye given my love of jazz and growing love for musicals.

Without going in too deep on the synopsis, first -time director Damien Chazelle creates a jazzy yet sometimes stark and  frustrating landscape focused on the boy meets girl, girl falls for boy, boy leaves girl narrative. Title characters Guy, a musician whose first love will always be music, and Madeline, a girl searching for something, anything in life interact with a series of interesting people throughout the film ultimately to meet again in its final scene.


What struck me at times was the director's reliance on the actors to use their facial expressions and solely that - the movie is not heavy on dialogue. While frustrating at times, with sober second thought the realism it conveyed was spot on. The up and down moments of relationships and life in general don't often come accompanied with "coffee is for closer" type speeches. Its the look on your partner's face that is the indicator that you've messed up.


I should have written this when the movie was in town last week, but it may return. If it does, its definitely worth a viewing.

dope scene from guy et madeline

colours...

white wine
black books
kind of blue
reminiscent of
summer brown
life much like hair
is an exercise of
dealing with greys
chasing
monochrome dreams
to get out
of the red
til then
i'm green
like envy behind the ears
and not in pockets
found lint
instead of her love
thought repair
was a yellow page
mission
but this purple
is all i got left
thinking damn...
orange would have looked good on her

players

I was at a dilla tribute party last year at a spot deep in queen west and the dj had gone through your "typical" dilla standards and the amazing samples that provided the inspiration. The crew I was with was dropping hints to the dj it was that time, the party was dying down the crowd had filtered and a few loyal supporters were remaining at the bar and a couple tables. dj finally dropped the record, a collective cheer/sigh went up and at that moment, strangers became family, drinks in the air, drunken staggers morphed into rhythmic two-steps, we acknowledged the DJ and stumbled out into the crisp winter night hooded and goosed up… players.

One of my fav things to do is drive or venture on foot or bike around the city while most of it sleeps. Driving slow, as Kanye West once put it, is a practice that meets at the intersection of deep contemplation and casual observation. Driving with no direction down empty lit streets and letting whatever the vibe of the moment be your guide. Players by Slum Village is often the soundtrack for those moments, the subdued, the laid back vibe of nighttime.

We don’t care how or where

we end up there, wherever it may be

no compass or telescope

but finding depth in one word answers

and finding common ground with

exotic dancers

fully clothed

curbside dividing cab fare

stretching a dollar

after stretching for dollars

no discrimination, all colours

lipstick and collars

blue and white speeding thru the red

while we wait for green

posers provide the inspiration

no racing, embracing the slow but steady

save the ready set go for rush hours

There’s power in patience

And patients suffering insomnia

gazing out of window panes

gazing at the caddy in adjacent

lane

gazing at the amazing way

midnight plays the blues

the crew cruises through

smoke stacks and ascends

like wind off the lake

we relate, debate, and laugh it off

drive off solemn in stewardship

players…

two sides of the same coin

certain parameters given to me in a challenge defined the following piece.
read #1, then read #2, then read #1 and probably read #2 again and see if you can figure out what the challenge was.

#1
regrets? no,
but caresses foolishly friction bore fiction
this crumpled paper laid
on
stages winning award
on
parts played
we
embrace this
delayed departure
colours neutral
stained heart
my death approaching
was she love peronsified?

...

#2
personified love?
she was approaching death
my heart stained neutral colours
departure delayed this embrace
we played parts on award winning stages
on laid paper crumpled this fiction
bore friction foolishly
caresses
but no regrets

untitled.

words form like mindstates
barely legible and bound by lines
time heals wounds
and practice makes better penmanship during rush hour
in the interim i'm scribbling and sinking deeper into
a system of off-beat rhythms
finding colour in the monochrome
and searching for love amidst the monotone
dialtones hoped for
but similar to HBO i'm wireless
only secure plan in life is data
they say no man is an island but at times
i'm pondering who's ladder
i'm climbing up
soliders of cross double crossing
got the flock and the shepherd
looking lost caught between jacob and jesus
these days its more than the weather
that changes from season to season keeps us
teething
seething
feeding
needing
breeding
believing