Tuesday, August 30, 2005

"Did you just get cock blocked by Bob Saget?"

Pharrell Ft. Rohff-Where Yours At
Jim Jones Ft. Juelz Santana, J.R. Writer & Latiff-Honey Dip

I'm the only one who can stand Pharrell's raps huh? Smooth, small, and laced in some seriously dripped n' jeweled lil' dudes, I actually liked his little nonsense on the Drop It Like It's Hot remix. Anyway, he's got a new album coming this fall. Hate on it. You've already heard "Where Yours At" on that N.E.R.D. album 'Clones' but this one is better. Really. Pharrell raps and so does some French dude.

Ah, another Jim Jones track. "Dip up in the room, then dip up in her belly....Dipset's Fonzarelli!" You might want to avoid this but I know you can't.

I'm not a real blogger; I avoid using snarky, innit, meta, or interpolation in my daily talk so as not to come off like a total metasnarkyhomo to my peoples. I did however start watching HBO sitcoms and while I don't have much in terms of damaged prose to offer, I do gotta say that Entourage on On Demand is something I can't see myself writing off as "so-yesterday" just quite yet. I love Jews; Ari Gold, played masterfully by Jeremy Piven (dude has looked the same age for twenty years) is the funniest Yid on the boob tube right now, aside from Larry David.

"Where the fuck did you hear that, Friendster?"

Friday, August 26, 2005


Khia-My Neck, My Back (Dainjah Remix)

The remixes of this song (see: Dopplebanger) have been better than the original, transcending that tawdry little hook from just straight nasty to something so harmonious your girl even dips it as she cringes, frustrated with all the injustice but unable to escape sexual magic. Or something, sorry your girl's lame.

-Yeah, this blog is _________(insert current hiphop slang denoting 'failing'). Sorry dudes. I'm moving to Espana in four weeks and for some reason, I still have yet to quit (read: get fired) from my job pushing books at the library, useful in paying off my ever steep credit card bill. Speaking of credit cards, that shit is insane! "Oh boy, PLATINUM!" Starting October, expect this blog to turn into some Hemingway/Pedro Juan Gutierrez/MP3 blog consisting purely of my drunken excursions, loads of photos, and some inane banter. Hope you'll tune in, fucker.

-Oh, and that's what I'm reading now: Pedro Juan Gutierrez's Tropical Animal and Dirty Havana Trilogy. Good luck getting it at your bookstore, I had to Amazon that shit. Full of bad rum, anal sex with Mulatta bitches, and jerking off monkeys and having your hands drenched in monkey juice. Jesus, my world is a mix of the subhuman and the pseudointellectual.

-In January, you're going to see me here, in Goa, the former foothold of the Portuguese empire in Asia, the former Brazil of the east, and the home of my father's family for the last seven hundred years. Most people think of Goa as some tranced out raverfest which is due to the large numbers of hippies who have travelled there frequently since the sixties. It's more than that; it feels more like a Latin American or Mediterranean town than an Indian one altogether. The people are the products of miscegenation so there's a large mestizo population of which my family is. We drink feni, a coconut/cashew purple drank that gets you beyond faded, eat pao bhajis and racheiado, and sing drunken mandos, a Goan version of the Portuguese fado except with dance and more Konkani influences.

Some history.

-Check out Coco B's UGK songs, all very nice but um, what's the deal with Bun B dropping "goddamn chink" in the middle (2:10) of "Cocaine In The Back Of My Ride"?

Tuesday, August 9, 2005

This Mountain Air Is Devastating

I'm somewhere in the Rocky Mountains right now. Blogging is difficult. Smoking entirely too many cigarettes, living on grilled crab legs and cognac. Fingers can't stop shaking and Thomas The Engine is the soundtrack to my demise, it would seem. Won't be back till tomorrow, but dropped in on a strangers Vaio to make a point.

I'd like to re-up songs, really and truly, I would. However, Yousendit is to blogging what a plastic fork is to fine dining. Forgiving poor analogies, you must understand that till I finally manup (and settle my outstanding credit card debt), I am in no position to offer anything of any permanence, meaning: 25 clicks and that's it!

So, to all the people from Ukraine, Bali, and Botswana, I would advise getting online at the most inopportune times to avoid losing out on some of this aural delight, lest some thieving American scallywag beat you to the punch, smell me?

Anyway--no music in this post. Lots of reading going on, namely Camus's "The Plague", a great cigarette/poop/bedtime read. Not so good for daytime, when everyone's talking about going on some hike and all you can think about is collapsed rats and yellow eyes.

-You guys drink soda? I'm thinking about cancelling my alcohol intake in lieu of all this:

-Crazy Guy On A Bike...I could be into this club.

Till tomorrow, adieu.

*Oh, I suggest you guys buy some Satwa. Great Brazilian psychadelic. I'll post it up Thursday, that and some John Fahey. Fucking A it's a folk party.