here's a slice of poetry

[Chorus:]

This is why I'm Hot [2x]
This is why [2x] Uh
This is why I'm Hot (Uh)
This is why I'm Hot [2x] Whoo

This is why [2x]
This is why I'm Hot
I'm hot cuz I'm fly (fly)
You aint cuz you're not (Mims)
This is why [2x]
This is why I'm hot [2x]

[Verse 1:]
This is why I'm hot
I dont gotta rap
I can sell a mill sayin nothin on da track
I represent New York
I got it on ma back
And dey say dat we lost it
So I'ma bring it back
I luv da Dirty, DirtyCuz niggaz show me luv
The ladies start to bounce
As soon as I hit da club
But in da Midwest
Dey luv to take it slow
So when I hit da H
I watch you get it on da floor
And if you needed it hyphy
I take it to da Bay
Frisco to Sac-town
Dey do it eryday
Coppin a Hollywood
As soon as I hit L.A.
I'm in dat Low, Low
I do it da Cali way
And when I hit ChiPeople say dat I'm fly
Dey like da way I dress dey like
(Dey like my) my attire move crowds from side to side
Dey ask me how I do it and simply i repy...

[Chorus:]

[Verse 2:]
This is why I'm hot
Catch me on da block
Every otha day
Another bitch another drop
16 bars, 24 pop
44 songs, nigga gimme what you got
I'm in there drivin cars
Push 'em off da lot
I'm into shuttin stores down so i can shop
If you need a bird I can get it chopped
Tell me wat you need you know i get 'em by da flock
I call ma homie black meet on da ave
I hit wash with da money in da bag
we into big spinners
See my pimpin never dragged
Find me wit different women dat you niggaz never had
For those who say dey know me know I'm focused on ma cream
playa you come between you'd better focus on da beam
I keep it so mean da way you see me lean
And when say I'm hot my nigga dis is what I mean

[Chorus:]

[Verse 3:]
This is why I'm hot
Shorty see da drop
Ask me wat I paidd and I say yea I paid a quap
And den I hit da switch dat take away da top
So chicks 'round da way dey call me cream of da crop
Dey hop in da carI tell 'em all bout
We hit da studio dey say dey like da way I record
I gave you black train and I did you wrong
So everytime I see 'em and dey tell me dat'z their song
Dey say I'm da bomb
Dey luv da way da charm hangin from da neck
And compliments da arm which compliments da ear den comes da gear
So when I hit da room da shortyz stop and stare
Den niggaz start to hate rearrange thier face
Little do dey know I keep 'em things by waistside
I reply nobody gotta die
Simliar to Lil wizzy cuz I got dat fire

[Chorus:]


The group is called Mims and I am given to understand that they were asked to write a travelogue incorporating Joycean wordplay before which they had their left brain removed . . . ya know wha i'm sayin?

neurolaw

I urge everyone to listen to today's Fresh Air with Terry Gross. The topic of the show is a new perspective on law by way of neuroscience. I am not up to the task of summarizing the whole interview yet while I was listening to the show I could not help but think of the story Minority Report by Philip K. Dick (the movie blows). You can access the show by going to www.wamu.org then clicking on the programs menu found at the top of the page. Next find Fresh Air in the list appearing on the left.

Artists and the Nation

My question is simply this: "Can an artist be nationalistic and still claim to be an artist?" After our discussion the other night about the place of melody in song I began to think more broadly about art. I do not claim to be an expert on the subject but as far as I know artists have had on significant dilemma, that being, should the artist reflect life as it is or as it should be? I do not see any tesion in the dilemma because what life should be is contained in life itself. Even, for argument sake, what life should be is only contained in the artists mind then it follows that the artists experiences have helped shape the ideal. Most of the experiences of the artist is shaped by sorroundings including people and environment or to put is more broadly the nation. Thus the artists' vision is shaped by the nation. But there are many nations containing various people and environments; is there anyway to translate between boarders?
This problem confronts both the artists' earlier dilemma: should the artist reflect the world as is or as it ought to be? The world as a whole is a patchwork of experiences sewn together by politics and economics; what the world ought to be is clearly anyones guess, although, the answer is most definately contained in politics and economics! So if the artist wants to somehow describe reality through art then it is imperitive that the result reflect the economic and/or political spheres. Every nation on the planet is tied it other nations politically as well as economically creating both a global political and economic system(s). The artist comes to a new dilemma: should the art reflect the reality of the nation or of the global systems? If the artist chooses a particular nation then the result will be myopic at best since the work would not be able to resonate to other people thus not reflecting upon reality as a whole.
I believe that we have entered into a new age where there are two common languages that the world shares: politics and economics. These two languages are highly complicated and translate very differently in different parts of the world. I believe that the role of the artist is to provide a forum whereby different people can come together and talk about different experiences only with a common language. Comming back to our discussion about melody I fear that melodies distract people from thinking about politics and economics etc. Music has shown to be very valuable and is often seen as a common language that cuts across barriers but it can also be easily highjacked rendering it useless. I believe that the role of the artist is much more important now than years past simply because of how politics and economics are controlled. In order to depict what is going on in a particular nation the artist needs the vantage point of the world and that is where the artist should be looking.

The Dread of Difference

That cool and smart-sounding title is taken from a book I read in college. The book, a collection of essays discussing the role of gender in horror movies, posits that the horror genre is entirely rooted in gender, “particularly in anxieties about sexual difference and gender politics.” While I disagree that all horror films are gender-based (I believe some are responses and critiques of politically repressive and conservative times), it’s still an awesome film analysis book. For example, one essay discusses Carrie as being about the male fear/hatred of women’s reproductive power, and another examines The Shining as being about the inevitable collapse and the consequences of a patriarchal society. Good stuff.

I stole this title because that book was all I could think about last week after seeing 300, a truly awful movie that treats racial and religious differences the same way the horror genre treated gender difference—as horrific monstrosities encroaching on, and threatening to, the harmonious, utopian world of white men.

300 is another film adaptation of the Spartan resistance to Persian forces at the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 B.C. It introduces us to the white Spartan forces as noble, brave men who are willing to sacrifice their lives in the most noble of pursuits: warfare. The film then shows us the evil empire endangering these walking white bastions of freedom: grotesque caricatures of Africans, Asians, and Arabs, along with the requisite giant gay king who offers hedonistic and materialistic glory to those who fall to his temptations.

The terror with which these “others” are drawn is so complete, so obvious in its representation, that I was hoping there was some sort of irony to it. But there was none. The Persians are not simply the bad guys in the story. They are shown as amoral and monstrous and sometimes, literally, as monsters. The idea of “others” as evil runs rampant throughout the film. Our white hero king, in some of his many speeches to his troops, mentions that his white fighters are “free men,” and that they would surely rather die than to bow to the armies of dark-skinned slaves surrounding them. I swear, it's like a D.W. Griffith movie with CG backgrounds.

Oh, and for the ladies? You’ll be happy to know that your importance is to "make real men.” Thanks for playing, sister.

I guess the easy way out is to claim that the filmmakers were being true to the vision of the Frank Miller graphic novel. If that’s the case, then Frank Miller’s one racist motherfucker. But Miller is from my hometown, so I’ll say only this: That movie is one racist motherfucker.

Celine vs. The Cure

Celine Dion "I Love You"

I must be crazy now
Maybe I dream too much
But, when I think of you
I long to feel your touch

To whisper in your ear
Words that are old as time
Words only you would hear
If only you were mine

I wish I could go back to the very first day I saw you
Should have made my move when you looked in my eyes
'Cause, by now, I know that you'd feel the way that I do
And I'd whisper these words as you'd lie here by my side
(I...)

(Chorus:)

I love you
Please say you love me, too
These three words, they could change our lives forever
And I promise you that we will always be together
'Til the end of time

So, today, I fin'lly find
The courage deep inside
Just to walk right up to your door
But my body can't move
When I fin'lly get to it
Just like a thousand times before
Then, without a word, he handed me this letter
Read, I hope this finds the way into your heart
It said

(Repeat chorus)

(Bridge:)
Well, maybe I, I need a little love
And, maybe, I, I need a little care, yeah
And, maybe, I, maybe you, maybe you
Oh, you need somebody just to hold you
If you do, just reach out
And I'll be there

(Repeat chorus twice)

I love you
I will be your light
Shining bright
Shining through your eyes
***********************************************************

The Cure "Plainsong"

"i think it's dark and it looks like rain" you said
"and the wind is blowing like it's the end of the world" you said
"and it's so cold it's like the cold if you were dead"
and then you smiled fora second.

"i think i'm old and i'm in pain" you said
"and it's all running out like it's the end of theworld" you said
"and it's so cold it's like the cold if you were dead"
and then you smiled fora second

sometimes you make me feel like i'm living at the edge of the world
like i'm living at the edge of the world
"it's just the way i smile" you said

____________________________________________

Bang Bang Bang I got you you dumb overpaid fish inna barrel . . .

Here's The Deep End, Here's Me Off The Deep End

Climbing to the top of the highest tree
Trying to get above all the usual that I see
Moving here and there
To float on air
And settle in an empty space
Startled by a cold wind repeatedly slapping my face
"That's right! I'm the Wind and I'm pissed!
All that defiance, subversion, and thinking equal opportunities missed
'Free your mind'?
That doesn't even make cents
I eat people and spit them out due to their inaction
Now that's what I call pure chewing satisfaction
So wake up! You're late
For jobs, meetings, classes, and other important dates
Your role is that of the slave
Best to fall in line with the other mindless knaves
There's no such thing as talent
Might as well fuck being valiant
I don't find any of this shit funny
Success depends on one thing: large amounts of money
Currency and pills seem to keep the rest happy
So why don't you get dressed for work
And do you mind making it snappy?
I'll even give you a glimpse of the sun for inspiration
No sense laying frozen, in pools of perspiration
Let's face it, when it really comes down to it
You don't even have the gall
To rise up, change, or give it some semblance of 'your all'
So why don't you just do yourself a favor
And follow the bouncing ball"