MONDAY RAMBLE PART 15 “PARTY IN THE HOUSE”

You know what never happens to me? I never go out to eat and finish my entree and have the server come over and say “We saw how fast you finished your food and it looked like you enjoyed it, so the chef decided to bring you seconds and it’s on us…”
I would be so grateful and excited, but that never happens. Instead, I go to buffets once in a blue moon and the food is just above ok and I try to save room but it doesn’t work. I am never as hungry as I am at those spots where plate refills don’t exist. Oh well.

And since I’m mentioning food, you know what really grinds my gears:

When people show up to fight parties or house functions with no beverage or contributions, then they’re the 1st ones in the kitchen grabbing up wings and pouring Belvedere. I just hate that.

It irks the hell out of me when I do that. But times are hard and my little bottle, which will be from my crib…and be opened already, isn’t going to add much to your shindig and besides if it IS a new bottle, you better believe it’s coming with me.

I know…I know, rappers are supposed to be ballers but I’m not one of those guys that comes to the crib party with big gallons of Hennessy and Patron and all the people look at them when they walk in like they just turned water into wine. Oooh I hate them too. Just bring one thing and put it in the kitchen discreetly, so what you got it, you don’t have to flaunt it rich guy. I hope your kid misses a meal because of your magic, fancy bottle you brought.

I think with housewarmings people expect gifts…at BBQs they don’t mind you just bringing buns or soda, (ice is the cop out) but at fight parties, money has been spent on an event so if you’re not charged to get in then the pressure is on you to have something in your hand when you walk thru the door. Hosts are hip to the six-pack of beer trick too. I think there’s a 2 six-pack minimum, if you’re not alone, which is crap in my book.

House parties are interesting because you have to take so many things into consideration:

-Mismatch socks (or holes) incase you have to take your shoes off…

-Food on your face, in your teeth, on your breath, any food disrupting your cool can be detrimental. Just stick with finger food and if you’re a guy then you have to give up your seat for a female that’s standing up eating, yea I know, it sucks but I didn’t make these up.

-Too much alcohol, blurting out unfunny jokes or flirting with the wrong person could result in long-term damage. Especially with twitpics and cameras on phones.

-Sweating can be pretty bad too, because then you have to wipe your forehead and get paper towel remnants on you…or you get sweat stains and people point and these are just the small things.

-Overextended convos. It’s tough to know when you’ve reached the point of small-talking to someone for too long but heed the signs if you’re the culprit of forcing a conversation that should’ve ended at “You still have my number right?” or “I’mma hit you on Facebook.”

The next level of shame at the house gathering is frightening and under no circumstances should you stick around if you have:

-A booger, or nose crust, or anything that resembles mucus in that area. If a friend doesn’t warn you early, it’s curtains for you.

-Body odor, you may have forgotten deodorant or it wore off…or the sweat took over and now someone is indirectly talking loud about how people in here need to bathe and you don’t even know it’s you…so you laugh and that makes other folks laugh…so you laugh more because you think they’re laughing with you…but they’re really laughing at you.

-If you have to use the bathroom for anything other than #1 then you should leave that shindig right away. Even if you’re nowhere close to anything else, it’s important not to blow up bathrooms or get alcohol sick at someone’s home. This isn’t even a cool/uncool thing, it’s just wrong. Of course there are exceptions and if you have to go well then you have to go but I say go before you go.

You may think I went to some fight party this weekend and that’s what sparked this rant, but I did not. Not that I wasn’t outside Dallas Austin’s mansion a few minutes after the list closed. Yes there was a list. Not a good time to have a shirt with your name on it when you’re trying to pretend you’re not the guy that didn’t get in.

“Stimuli, is that you? You didn’t get in either?”

“Nah I was in there, it was wack! Just free food, drinks and real famous folks rubbing elbows, I’m outta here.”

You made it this far, might as well leave a comment, it makes a difference…

MONDAY RAMBLE PART 14 “BATHROOM GUY”(PAY TO PEE)

Last time I left you guys I was talking about strippers and needing change and recently I experienced another scenario where I sought change.
I was out at a loungy, sportsbar place and I walked in the restroom excited because I knew this spot had one of those heavy automatic hand dryers and who do I see? Bathroom attendant guy.

Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes you go to the club and might need some type of gum or candy or extra fragrance and at that time and that time only is the bathroom attendant guy helpful.
This elderly Black gentleman had the whole layout: sour powers, Dentyne Ice, mints, Vera Wang, Gaultier, Blue Jeans fragrances etc, his own set of towels, everything under the sun. And right next to all of this stuff was the tip plate. The plate he would empty in his pockets but keep a few ones out there to give people incentive, but he didn’t leave too much money showing because it would look like he was paying his rent handing out towels.

Altogether, he could’ve spent maybe $20 on this whole setup, watered down fragrances and discount candy isn’t fooling me. But here I am compelled to give. I washed my hands without even using the lavatory and I got out of there. I think I had $5 cash on me maybe and we had a server that actually was doing work…not handing me a towel…and a paper towel at that.
This guy handed me a paper joint and I couldn’t even use the dryer after that. He ruined my trip and wanted bread on top of that.

About an hour later I really had to use the facility and now I knew it would be uncomfortable because I didn’t give him a dime last time. I think the rules should be if you don’t engage in convo with him or take his refreshments then you owe him nothing. He wasn’t even one of the over-friendly ones.
I’ve seen bathroom guys at the club that had lintbrushes and would brush your shoulder while you looked in the mirror…one guy had insightful words and compliments for everyone. I think he had jokes too, and this other cat had music and candles.

Truthfully, the restroom is the last place I want to experience any exchange of ideas with strangers but I say if you’re going to make this a career or whatever, go hard. I don’t know how it is for ladies’ bathrooms, I haven’t heard any stories about them but I’m sure it’s not as creepy.

So I mapped out my plan of attack to thwart reaching in my pockets this time.
Scenario 1: I figured I could pretend I was on the phone, not make eye contact and just head on out.

Flashback 1: I remember being at the sink and reaching in my pocket one time for chapstick and the bathroom guy said, “Thanks son”
‘What did he just say?’ I thought to myself. Did he thank me in advance AND call me son? Damnit, he got me. And I tipped a few dollars.
Ok, phone plan is out.

Scenario 2: How bout I use the sink closest to the dryer and just go for the dryer?
That’s it, I don’t use the towel; I don’t owe him.
But what if he remembers me and speaks to me this time?

Flashback 2: I recall a restroom trip at a club and Bathroom guy was extra cool and cordial, joked with me and some other cats and they all dropped a few bucks but I didn’t have it so I just said peace and tried to get in on their tip like it was mine.
The 2nd time I went in that night, he was so cold and distant like he kept a mental image of me sneaking out and I was crushed. I drank 2 more drinks just so I could go back in there a 3rd time and I had some change this time, I think I gave him a 5 and his face didn’t even light up. He just said “thanks” in kind of a monotone way like it was expected, like it was a part of clubbing.

Present day: I decided to combine the 2 scenarios and try the phone thing and the sink close to the dryer. There I was, finished my business, eyes low, started reaching for my phone as I simultaneously tried the soap on the sink near the dryer and nothing came out, I shifted to the next sink and nothing. Then it happened…he had his own special soap he poured in my hand before I could find the working soap dispenser. He won, it was some anti-bacterial, sweet but not fruity smelling soap and I was locked in…I fumbled the phone exposing that it didn’t ring, I washed my hands, received his wack paper towel and asked him for change for $5 and he pulled out a knot that looked like he had been on the corner all day slinging.

The moral of this story is something about giving but I’m not sure what it is. But now I think that Bathroom guys have kids and hopes and dreams and sure they might be scammers or just innovative businessmen that know how to get some extra tax-free cash during a recession but either way, they are a part of society, and if we accept grownups with cornrows then we should accept them as well.

You made it this far, might as well leave a comment, it makes a difference…

MONDAY RAMBLE PART 13 “MONEY FOR SEX”

Have you ever engaged in a face-to-face conversation with someone and they accidentally landed saliva on your face? And they looked like they know it happened but they’re too embarrassed to say anything…and you don’t want to wipe it away just yet because that would embarrass both of you…so you kind of wait for their eyes to look somewhere else and then you get it off…then you try to say a lot of words with “p” and “t” to return the favor but it doesn’t work…

Maybe that’s just me.
I’m not a nice guy at all, but I was reading this Malcolm Gladwell book that really stressed the theory that we are all never one way.  Meaning the nicest person in the world can be a prick at any given moment, the safest guy you know can throw caution to the wind in the right circumstance and, you get the idea.

I don’t think authors are smarter than me but I think the word “author” has something to do with “authority” and that maybe the only reason I’m writing books is so people can say I’m an authority figure on some topic I pretended I knew a lot about…either way, I think that author was pretty on point.

You ever had a server mess up your order but you still left a decent tip?
How bout handing an unfriendly cashier a 20 and getting back the 20 as part of your change…and you point out the mistake and return the bread?
Not you?

Ok, what about the passing beggar that doesn’t have any talent and has on some name brand gear but truly looks as though hard times has fell upon them? Normally, you look the other way but something inside you says this human may need your help, or it might be an Angel testing people out disguised as a beggar…or a demon doing the same but whatever the case you decide to give knowing your contribution could go right to the bottle.

I can say I’ve done all that and the exact opposite at different times.
Sure some folks are neat freaks or compulsively considerate or habitually late but for most of us, we think we know who we are and what we “always” do and we throw it in as part of our characteristics…but those things change, and that is probably the only constant that we are bound to endure…change.

Speaking of change, I went to a bachelor party the other day and as this stripper danced on me and I realized I didn’t have any…change that is, I thought about her motivation. Sure, she may have thought I wasn’t the ugliest guy in the room, but her nudity, her moves, her feigned passion was all about paying her bills. I didn’t want her to like me or anything but I felt like a pawn in her little game.

It just reminded me of a Bud Light commercial as they all marveled at these women flipping and spreading as if they had never seen it before and threw out grocery money like mindless fools.
So after I got some change and joined the fools, I see why they say certain parts of the female anatomy make the world go round
And this ladies and gentlemen brings me to my final thought brought on by a short story that I will label fiction for squeamish readers:

I’m in a car with two of my boys in Atlanta. I’m in the backseat, Cephus is driving and he owns a shiny, luxury vehicle. Some women pull up on the driver’s side. Cephus spills some cool guy banter, they bite and say they’re not doing anything later, and hand him a CD. I instantly think they’re rappers so I say pop it in. He notices a phone number on it and lipstick, I try to play it and realize it’s not a CD but it’s a DVD.

Fast forward story, DVD in car, we watch screen, fast forward DVD, girl from car, is now girl on screen, now girl unclothed, now girl with man on top of her, ok DVD out, phone number called, whatever, whatever, story gets fuzzy but the ending was PG I promise.

We did get to speak to the young actress in person and during our interview we found out that a photo shoot she was paid to do turned into an impromptu porno because some more money was offered. We don’t know how much but that turned into a DVD of her 1^st time, ahem…on camera that she’s selling.

My point is, is the motivation of money enough to make someone put him or herself on camera like that or is that a part of who you are already?

Does it make her a whore? Is she just money driven? How many of us can separate sex and love? How much would you charge to get on camera and handle your business? What if it was enough to change your financial situation? What if it was just sex and no filming? Is there a price at all that can make you go that far?

Most of us say that there isn’t a number because we have too much to lose: jobs, family, dignity…for the rest…you just saw a magic number pop in your head, don’t worry your secret’s safe with me. But think for a second about who you are as opposed to the situations you’re in, some of us are still learning ourselves and it’s not the worst thing in the world.

You made it this far, might as well leave a comment, it makes a difference…

MONDAY RAMBLE PART 12 “BATTLING POLLEN”

Dear Allergies and pollen demons,

I am rebuking your presence. We had a long run since I was 4, but somehow I almost thwarted you last year and I will desperately try again. Peace.

Oh and whoever is controlling the weather machine…you had enough laughs yet? I’m not getting the whole practical joke, intertwining seasons, earthquake thing you guys are going for but enough is enough. I’m sure it’s the government and it has to do with money but I don’t have to like it.

And since we’re on the conspiracy money theory, I was trying to figure out what a bunny rabbit has to do with the resurrection of Christ last week looking at Easter commercials…all I found was some Anglo-Saxon goddess of fertility named Eastre whose earthly symbol is a rabbit but other than that no correlation. I guess the Easter bunny has as much relation to the rebirth of Christ as Santa Claus does to his 1^st birth; I think Saint Nick may have more of a case though. And rabbits don’t even lay colorful eggs so yes we’re all brainwashed by the same people that made up Daylight Savings time.

Of course there’s some symbolism and I get the Lent process and giving up something to have a piece of you die so you can be reborn in some way. Makes me think about how holy days are meant to be spiritual in their origin, but they end up getting so commercialized.

Enough of this depth…I had these questions when I was a kid but I never asked them because I knew people would lie, not know the answer or tell me to go look it up.  Back then it was encyclopedias, now it’s google.
The other day I googled the word “google” like I thought some secret world would open itself up to me but it led me right where I started. Which reminds me of the convo I had with someone the other day where I told them that time could not be wasted…they didn’t agree and now I’m thinking maybe that talk might’ve been a waste of time.

I think there are some activities that might fall under the time-wasting umbrella…like “sightseeing.” What is that? You go to a new place and see sights, just writing it I feel like I may have killed moments of my life. How come no one goes sound-hearing…or thing-touching? I’d like to go to a new place with a blindfold and explore with my other senses…or maybe not.

I get asked sometimes if I would ever battle and people say that I could or should or whatever. But maybe some of you haven’t been to a Smack, Grindtime or Fight Klub battle over the years. It’s quite disrespectful and very personal nowadays. People prepare for weeks with rhymes and antics to gain crowd reactions and the more truth and jugular targeted insults, the better. Babymama’s real names get called out, children get massacred, lil sisters sodomized, grandmama’s ashes get the Lebron James pre-game ritual treatment. It’s truly entertaining. To be honest, I would never say never but I don’t have that type of hostility in my heart anymore and I have pics of me with Dwayne Wayne glasses on Facebook…just too much existing ammo…I could probably battle myself and get some oohs and ahhs.

I don’t need someone dissing my Moms or saying something authentic about some girl I know because I would stop the battle and ask him “Was that truly necessary and who told you that story because I only told a few folks and now I forgot my rap…you really wanted to win huh? Bastard!”

For now I’ll keep battling bill collectors with bars about hitting them with the semi and AK and whatever cool guns I can find on google that rhyme with credit and bureau.

You made it this far, might as well leave a comment, it makes a difference…

MONDAY RAMBLE PART 11 “PLAYING POSSUM”

The other day I was walking in Brooklyn, New York and I saw a cat, and I really like cats. But then as I smiled at the kitty, I noticed his nose was pointy and his eyes were red and then it hit me that this wasn’t a cat at all. It was a possum pretending to be a cat.
I hear possum’s are good actors and that’s where the term “playing possum” comes from. He looked at me, and I looked back, I’m sure he was male because he had a masculine evil grin. And the fear suddenly struck me because I knew that he could kill me…I don’t know how possums kill and I thought about googling it on my blackberry to find out if they’re even dangerous at all. But then I decided I liked the fear and ignorance, it was better to simply jog away from this strange creature than get to know more about it.

I instantly thought of the scene in “Inglorious Basterds” where the French lieutenant guy compares Jews to rats.

People don’t like rats, but they don’t even know why. Then he makes the distinction between rats and squirrels both being rodents but the most significant physical difference are their contrasting tails. The long scary tail is one of the things that makes us find rats disgusting.

We see animals, people, objects and sometimes we like them, other times we don’t. And the truth is, most of the time words may not be enough to describe your true reason for your opinion. Sometimes a feeling is just that, a feeling.
While I thought of the origin of possums feigning death and a furry harmless squirrel ran by, I wondered where these preconceived notions came from. I wondered why that bowling alley in Manhattan had a sign that read “no mc colors, baggy pants, du-rags, etc”
I’ve never seen the word “du-rags” look so official and shiny until I saw that well thought out discriminatory sign. It made sense though, dress codes keep out those unwilling to dress a certain way, and venue owners hope that they can cut down on violent incidents… because we all know the better you dress, the less likely you are to shoot someone. That wasn’t totally sarcasm but apparently these people have never seen mob movies or secret servicemen. They are 2 piece-suited assassins.

As I’m writing this I’m trying to lift my own spirits, as I am saddened by the premature death of one of my dudes, schoolmates and just an overall cool person. But death is almost always premature…even when expected. And yet, it is still our biggest fear. We pray so our afterlives will be better, we try to take care of ourselves to avoid the end and we cry when someone leaves us eternally.

The crazy thing about tragedy is you don’t know how to deal with it until it happens to you. Finding the right words to console someone is so difficult; empathizing with another human’s pain is almost impossible, death, albeit a part of life, never gets easy.

I didn’t mean to depress anyone that made it this far into this ramble, if it helps, I don’t feel any better either.
I will say this, my next full-length CD entitled, “Unsung vol. 1” was originally fueled by my everlasting thirst to be heard, appreciated, and whatever else rappers bitch about. I added the subtitle, “The Garden of Eden” because I realized like Adam and Eve that you may not acknowledge paradise until you have to leave it. Sort of like the man with no shoes running into the man with no feet (pun intended).

So this is my realization, I am where I should be, everything I have endured, (you can say this along with me), is my path. This is your life, acceptance is not easy but once you let what happens hit you and deal with it for what it is, your reactions become controlled, they become real, heartfelt, honest. I am searching…most of us are…this is the most beautiful moment I have ever lived, it is a gift, the present.

You made it this far, might as well leave a comment, it makes a difference…

MONDAY RAMBLE PART 10 “BUTTERFLY EFFECT”

I know plenty of you have thought of this before, but seeing movies like “17 Again” and “Hot Tub Time Machine” made me think…if you could go back in time, of course with the knowledge you have now, what point in time would you rewind to? Junior high? Elementary school? Last week?

I would probably go back to yesterday, get online get the winning lotto numbers and make some quick cash.  Any earlier date would just be too tempting, and I would alter too many occurrences in life offsetting the butterfly effect.

Not that it wouldn’t cross my mind to go back to that goofy kid that got cut from JV basketball freshman year and insert a much better jumpshot and courage…or go back to 5^th grade and tell my mother, “I love Mike but nah I’m cool on the S-curl thing” or maybe find a young Lebron James in Ohio and befriend him and tell him he could be somebody one day, “remember who told you that ‘Bron.”

Then the ideas pop in the brain about the genius creations that I would introduce before they were actually invented (with a twist), such as shahoo.com or shaspace.com. I would do shamail.com but I think some folks would think I’m the CEO of shymale.com and…oh never mind.

Anyway, my fortune would be accompanied by a bad Hollywood attitude, friends I don’t know, women I don’t trust and me wishing I could go back in time and have a regular life, a family and maybe some hard times so I could appreciate the money that I now have.

You know what I mean, and if you don’t and you’re confused, don’t be alarmed…I had a point but I lost it, oh yeah… We as adults; were only impressionable children for a few years of our lives, yet all our internal makeup stems from childhood. Your fears, likes, dislikes, anything deep you can think of derives from you being a kid and those issues help shape who you are today:

No love from your father – Daddy issues. Women subconsciously hate men and have fear of abandonment, Men subconsciously blame their mother, hate women and thirst for attention = life sucks.

Of course there are exceptions to this but either way, there’s something about being 6 or 7 years old and having a memory about an event that lasts forever.

There’s a joy in your heart when you think of the toys you played with or cartoons you watched.
Your ideas about church, your connection to fast food restaurants, fragrances, encounters with other ethnicities, not only come from TV but also experiences around us and it begins before the teenage years.

With that said, many of us need therapy…but most of us can’t afford it. And we really know therapy is just someone asking you to identify instances in your life and then figuring out the reasons for your actions by eventually answering your own questions.

To understand what a therapist does, you would have to break the word “therapist” into 2 words.

“Thera” and “pist.”

What 2 were you thinking? You’re sick. You DO need help.

So I have decided to simply play my own therapist and ask myself in my head, “What would therapist guy say?” It has truly helped me with my daily dumb decisions and finding their motivation. I would go into further detail about these therapy sessions but they are between me and him or he and I, or whatever.

Nuts, maybe I am, but this may help you as well. Still in that treadmill relationship? Can’t seem to stop procrastinating? Overeating but not over hungry? Punishing those around you because of something someone else somewhere did to you and you still can’t get over it so you project that pain in the workplace, home and anywhere humans exist? Well then maybe you should conference with someone… on the inside. And maybe until you get it right you should stay…on the inside.

Some of you already do it, except you talk to yourself, or the Creator, or a passed on love one or your imaginary friend from childhood but whoever it is, this can assist you in your day to day ongoings. If it doesn’t work, go to shastimuli.com and post your question, then come back later and post your answer…what do I look like? A therapist? I have my own issues.

You made it this far, might as well leave a comment, it makes a difference…

MONDAY RAMBLE PART 9 “CHUG-A-LUG”

My introduction to alcohol was very late in my life. Sure I sipped beer as a toddler but it wasn’t until I was 15yrs old in Mr. Yaged’s Health class at Brooklyn Technical High School that my curious innocence led me to ask him “if alcohol tastes bad, why do people drink so much of it?” Yeah I know, hilarious. Well the look on his face had a fusion of expressions that bellowed “that’s a good attitude to have” mixed with “it’s the best feeling in the world you idiot.”

It looked as if a piece of him actually saw his own teenage self feeling the same way about liquor. But then it seemed as though he relived all the tragedy that was caused by the bottle in his entire life as he paused and didn’t answer for about 16 seconds. I imagined that drinking may have led to his divorce or his belly or even his job, (that I believe he still has) and I thought to myself that alcohol may not be the thing to rush into.

So yeah I shared some St. Ides 40’s over the next few years and I found out Ides was truly not one of the saints. I graduated to my own 22 oz. of Heineken here and there…Long Island Iced Teas, then Southern Comforts, E&J, and finally in my last year of higher education, my cohorts and I were purchasing 5ths of Hennessy per person…per weekend.

And I never questioned the reason for drinking again even though Mr. Yaged’s actual answer comes to mind when I think of the times I wish I would have turned down that last beverage.

He said, “Well it kills brain cells, decreases coordination, makes you get louder, brutally tell the truth, become more aggressive, forgetful, destroys your liver, attacks your kidneys, could lead to heart disease, lowers inhibition, creates excuses for people to do idiotic things and is the leading cause for fights in the club…over women.”

Bud Light commercials don’t reflect anything close to that sir, so pardon me if I find out the truth on my own. And I did, and although to this day I have never thrown up from drinking, I have passed out and majored in stupidity many times throughout my years. With that said, I was pondering what to give up for Lent this year and 40 days of sobriety seemed like a good idea until I saw this man in the train station saying something about not giving things up for Lent but how we should add things to our lives instead.

I was like “Word! Hell yeah. I’m gonna add on, not give up!”
But then I saw that guy ask for change to buy beer and then I realized he lived on the train, so maybe that WAS a -give up drinking sign-.

Then again he looked really happy and after a few more chats he told me the recession was helping him out because he was making more dollars per train car.

He boastfully said that if he wasn’t addicted to alcohol he could technically have a nice place and a car because he was potentially making about $60 an hour on workdays. And I wasn’t sure but for a second I thought, this guy might have taken Mr. Yaged’s class. I asked him and he said the name sounded familiar, but he might have thought I said jager, either way he introduced me to some cool brandy mixture he had in his flask so what do you know…I did add on.

You made it this far, might as well leave a comment, it makes a difference…

MONDAY RAMBLE PART 8 “VALENTINES SHMALENTINES”

It happened again! All this talk about Valentine’s Day and a few Presidents’ Day commercials and it reminds me of the plan to undermine Black History Month. Valentine’s Day went platinum a long time ago but Black History Month has always had a short-lived run. And if I were a revolutionary activist I would go on and on about this and I would have good points too.

And you would say, “Oh man, that Stimuli guy be knowing stuff and he’s all into Black awareness and he made sense about the plan to destroy the African-American” but I don’t really have much more to say so…maybe someone else could take over and just tag me in your convo. Even if it’s like a convo on the street, just throw my name in it. Thanks.

I think one of the most racist terms I’ve ever heard is “reverse racism.”
How can you reverse racism? Racism is racism. There’s no reversing it, that’s like saying that racism began with Whites hating Blacks and that is the standard by which the word shall live up to. Anything else is just a remix, an imitation, a reverse. If you hate Latinos or Asians or Caucasians then that’s not real racism? That’s you fighting the original intent of the direction of the hate, you’re breaking the code of the ancestors before us that slaved and enslaved, discriminated and got segregated, the Whites that lynched Coloreds and the Blacks that had to suffer so that we could have this word.

Reverse racism offends me more than regular racism but what do I know? I’m over here working on reverse poverty.

I did a song called “Bucket List” where I talked about different goals I want to achieve before I kick the bucket and one thing I forgot to mention was my desire to have something I’ve never seen any athlete or entertainer have inside their home. Come to think about it…I’ve never seen one in any home and I’m sure they’re out there but one of these days, before I go, people will visit my home, use my bathroom, wash their hands, look for a towel and see an automatic hand dryer…just like the restaurants, hotels, movie theaters, all the public bathrooms.

I light up like a kid in a candy store when I see one and I am always amazed that no matter how soaked my hands are, in a matter of minutes they are totally dry. And when it’s an automatic one with no time limit, oh man am I excited? So while you got your marble floors and fancy HD plasma screen thingamajiggies, I’m going to steal the show with my automatic hand dryer that the whole hood will be talking about.

Sometimes I think about what I should write and other times I write what I think about, I’ve been trying more and more to get out of my head.

So I’ve been reading this book, A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle and it breaks down how the ego is responsible for most of the insanity that we as humans go through. We feed into our ego’s requests for attention all the time, we complain about other people to make ourselves feel better and we search for drama in our every day lives. You would expect me to take this enlightening info and attempt to evolve…nope!

I’m taking this knowledge and making excuses for myself. I’ve been blaming my ego for everything for the past two weeks. I talk bad about someone and I say, “this isn’t me saying this, it’s my ego.” “Yo my ego thinks that song sucks…and that dude smells funny…and why aren’t my songs on the radio?” Pardon me, that wasn’t me, my ego is on a mission y’all. He’s uncontrollable, matter of fact, he was on Twitter the other day saying some crazy stuff; I wouldn’t pay him any attention.

Someone asked me if I dug Drake’s Sprite commercial and I said I love it but my ego despises it, he even thinks I should have a commercial, what a jerk, I know. Oh he also thought the movie Notorious featured some of the worst casting and acting he’d seen in years but I told him not to talk about it because he waited too long to see it. Unfortunately the ego is not a split personality that you can blame infidelity or murder on but if you do and you get away with it, give me the credit and not that Eckhart guy, he’s rich already, I need the hand dryer…you know that would be soooo cool.

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MONDAY RAMBLE PART 7 “LONDON RAMBLING”

Last week I did some shows in London, England and to be honest I had no idea what to expect. I knew about the accents, I knew there were some dangerous areas but for the most part, I had no clue what I was in for. My DJ, Victorious had an idea to post the top ten things he would have tweeted if he had service on his berry and since I can’t steal that great concept I’m just going to run down a few of the things I would have to get used to if I decided to live in London.

-The gloomy skies. I don’t know where the sun hides out there but I can see why Vampires in the movies make England their home. I can see why folks get a lil depressed as well. I heard there’s like 14 days of sun in the summertime and this would be tough for me to handle. And that’s right up there with…

-Football. I would obviously either have to get down with soccer and get a favorite team or find a group of friends that like basketball and American football. Soccer is like a religion there and I don’t feel like getting into a brawl because I dissed some team or said I didn’t really understand the fascination. I would get with the program and also drink a whole lot of…

-Tea! I knew tea was big in England but I didn’t know it was up there with oxygen. I’ve had tea before and it’s not bad. I mean I prefer lemonade over iced tea…and hot drinks remind me of being sick but something tells me that in order to survive I would have to get my slow sip on. And I would have to learn how to manage this new expense when dealing with…

-The pound. They say things are expensive but it takes a while to figure out when something says 5 pounds that it’s somewhere around 10 dollars. At first I kept thinking “I’m getting a good deal,” but it started to sink in that those 4 quid value meals were hoodwinking me with the low numbers. I would go broke in the 1st few months but I would catch on eventually. I believe I spent like 40 pounds on…

-Public Transportation. The duplex buses with 2 levels were sort of shocking, the tube (train) wasn’t too confusing but if I thought New Yorkers were unfriendly, the people in the UK are downright pissed at strangers. I got crazy evil looks and no one asked me for directions or anything, that’s kind of cool. Either way, I don’t think I would ever be able to drive a…

-Car. Driving on the right side is something I don’t think I would ever get used to, it doesn’t seem unnatural or anything but I’m just not used to seeing it. I just knew if I was driving I would have turned into oncoming traffic a few times. Even as a pedestrian, I look the wrong way, I’m looking at the passenger side to make eye contact with the driver that isn’t there before I cross. I saw the words “look to the left” painted on the street to help visitors and it literally saved me twice. Speaking of dying…
-The cigarettes that a lot of people smoke out there have the phrase “Smoking Kills” very bold and big on them. Bigger than the brand name.

The signs on the road say “falling asleep at the wheel kills.” I mean they are brutal, no surgeon general warning or giving a possible positive outcome, like stay awake, don’t drink and drive. Nah, everything kills, do it and die. I kind of like that. I don’t smoke anyway but it seems like a good portion of the country does and they have organized smoke breaks. I find that interesting, about as interesting as the…

-Slang. This is something you have to deal with in any new region. I knew cigarettes were fags, but being bent isn’t drunk, it’s gay. So a bent cigarette is a gay fag…and vice versa. The store is the shop, wanking is masturbation, taking a piss at someone is cracking jokes on them and sarcasm is a second language out there. I’m a fan of that.
I’m not a fan of kooky…

-House Music. But I am about to record some and submit it to a label out there so I can make some real money. I’m serious.
None of this stuff makes the UK a bad place but the one thing that would probably halt relocation any time in the near future is what I saw one night in the hood of Brixton. And that is a…

-Fox.

Yea I said it. Not a foxy lady or a hot chick. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a fox, not on the wildlife channel, not in a movie; they just don’t get much Hollywood shine other than cartoons. And in the cartoons they’re usually sly or whatever. So when I saw a fox outside the crib that obviously had cancer or had just left a yard fight, it was truly frightening. I hear that they are similar to American rats and that they run in fear or maybe like raccoons, which I am equally uncool with. This was an experience I won’t live down.
Oh yea the shows were good too, they knew the words to my songs, I did radio, finally met DJ 279 and I met some great artists, Dubbledge, Kingpin, Phoenix, Wizard Sleeve, Chloe…DJ Snips, DJ Snuff, and Sumit held me down. Cheers!

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MONDAY RAMBLE PART 6 “DO SOMETHING”

So here’s the question: if money wasn’t an option, if you had all the doe you needed… pretend you hit the lottery or something…what would you wake up and do everyday? Considering you had to pick one thing, what would it be?

Most of us, would probably try different things until something stuck, but maybe you’ve explored enough options to know. Or maybe that question can help you identify your passion. Is it the occupation/job/career or whatever you’re doing now? Is it what you’re going to school for?

Did you always want to pursue some position, but people made it sound impossible? Do you think if you didn’t have these kids, you would be doing just what you love? But you love your kids so that thought is in the far corners of your mind.

Or maybe there’s no offspring at all and you’re chasing a dream that isn’t panning out just yet. Maybe you’re trying to make the dream a reality and bring in income at the same time.

Wouldn’t we all want to make money doing something we love? Or do some of just want to make enough to live comfy? You know…support a family without getting a headache when the bills are due, or having that nervy uncertainty about your future.

There’s nothing like the fear of death to make you think about what you’ve really done with your life. Ever go to a funeral and imagine it being yours? We are triggered to feel instantly remorseful when natural disasters claim lives, or when we witness tragedies, or when we lose famous individuals that have touched us with their talents.

Sometimes I think about what I’ve done with my existence compared to one whose life we celebrate with an actual holiday. As separate as we are as humanity, Americans found it in their hearts to agree that one man was enough of an example that his date of birth should be honored. When I really think about what Dr. King did in his lifetime, it’s almost depressing that I won’t get anywhere close to that. Sure Tupac made some revolutionary records, and Barack politicked his way into the half-White House, but Martin was going to jail, turning the other cheek, erasing color lines, changing people’s way of thinking, altering laws, risking his family’s safety and all because he believed that God created us all equal…and I rap.

Music was the answer to my original question years ago. Give me all the money in the world and I would still do music. Well that’s what I thought. But then I thought, what if no one liked it? What if I recorded it and performed it and got no love? Without the recognition would I still love it? And if I wanted love from it, does that mean I really wanted the fame?

What if some of us dream to simply have a family? Isn’t it rewarding to have a spouse and some kids, and fall for someone so deeply that it doesn’t matter what you do for a living? Some people don’t need to affect the globe or inspire humanity, some folks don’t strive to be millionaires or even financially free. Some of us want it all and desire the most but yet still we wake up happy to breathe another day. And it is in these breaths that life is…the dash on the headstone…the memories…the laughter…the people…the moments. You can have all the bread you can imagine, and in one split second, nature can take your spirit away from your flesh and those that remain are left to reflect on your days and nights here. You may not be a Martin Luther, or a singer, or an activist, but whatever your path is; however you define your success, it’s in you, and no impediment or recession can block what is yours.

You made it this far, might as well leave a comment, it makes a difference…