Sunday, August 31, 2008

vintage pusha man: "Ballerific like it's all terrific" 9/05/07

Before I was strictly butter, I was yo pushhha man.
Last summer when working at Up Against the Wall in Adren Faire mall I would kill the slow morning opening shifts by making runs to starbucks to buy $3.75 venti coffee frappuccinos and write in my aptly titled "Im yo pusha man" blog spot. It's beyond me why I deleted it only to start strictly butter a few months later.

Alas here's something that I wrote about a year ago in it's original glory, untouched and revised from 9/05/07, I'm not sure I feel the same way anymore but It's interesting to see where I was, I think more or less, I'm a different person now.

"Ballerific like it's all terrific vs. maslow's hierarchy of needs:"
It has come to my attention that what has accumulated the over past two months of me working at “Up Against The Wall” is a increasingly consumer driven, self conscious, and materialistic version of myself. I am almost positive that continuous inane conversation about vacuous, empty topics, clothes, and shoes is detrimental to my character. The intellectual side of me has always been at war with the side of me that buys $172 Premium denim; clearly working in the equivalent of a high-end boutique to people who wear Nike Dunks has exacerbated the situation.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely spent, and I like my job, but it’s a slippery slope between spending my paychecks on 10 Deep when I have holes in my socks, and owning competition crushing limited edition “insert bougy street wear brand” x “edgy urban brand” tees, shoes, bejeweled hoodies, or whatever when I’m 20 something and have no car and live in my parents spare bedroom or have student loans to pay off.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that there is nothing wrong with liking nice things, and being up on fashion but consider at what cost you are doing so. I am going off to school very soon and I should be saving my money for books rather than spending it on clothes to look good. Having people compliment, and talk to me about my shoes and judge me solely on my looks and the superficial on a daily basis has consumed me. Now I’d desirably follow blogs about clothes than watch the news.

Referring to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs:



Having such things as a job, place to live, a future and essentially having your shit together are the base of what people need while Nike SBs and Gucci sunglasses fall under “Esteem Needs” towards the top of the pyramid.

It’s beyond me why I feel self conscious, double guess myself and inevitably strive to dress a certain way to impress people who just graduated with me and have nothing but, an on again off again liaison with community college and part time jobs in retail to look forward to into their mid-twenties.

Alas, sadly what now plagues me is not sequestered to me alone, but is more of pandemic affecting much of America’s youth culture.

Kanye got it right:
“I say fuck the police, thats how I treat em
We buy our way out of jail, but we can't buy freedom
We all buy a lot of clothes but we don't really need em
The things we buy to cover up what's inside
Cause they made us hate ourself and love they wealth
That's why shorties holler, "Where the ballers at?"
Drug dealers buy Jordans, crackheads buy crack
But the white man get paid off of all a dat
But I ain't even gonna act holier than thou
Cause fuck it, I went to Jacob with 25 thou
Before I had a house and I'd do it again
Cause I wanna be on 106 and Park pushing a Benz
I wanna act ballerific like it's all terrific
I got a couple past due bills, I won't get specific
I got a problem with spending before I get it
We all self conscious I'm just the first to admit it”

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Shimmy shimmy ya

Justin criticized my last post under the pretenses that it was old, or as he specifically put it "like ODB old," alas this assertion is true. I premeditated making the post far before I actually did it.
In March I remember laying on my stomach atop my loft bed in college ten, building four, room 4310, downloading gnarls barkley's the odd couple and forming a blog post in my head about the heavy 60s folk feel-reminiscent of the likes of the mamas & the papas and simon & garfunkel, and 70s psychedelic influence that the album contained but never took the volition to actually write about it.
I never took the volition to write about a lot of things actually.

Perhaps this post has surpassed being shimmy shimmy ya "for any em-cee in any fifty two states
I get psycho, killaaa, norman bates"
old and onto creeque alley "no one's getting fat but mama cass" old but at least it's start

Mama Cass Elliot is a beautiful artist, I've always adored her. Following the mamas & the papas Mama Cass branched out into a solo career, her rendition of dream a little dream of meis breathtaking to say the least.


New Blog Slap:
ODB-Brooklyn Zoo


DL ODB-Return to the 36 Chambers
------


in other news:
(9:47:34 PM) im crcbound: sorry in advance for not being a beautiful black woman
(9:48:23 PM) Pale Skin man: its okay
(9:48:24 PM) Pale Skin man: lol
(9:48:38 PM) im crcbound: story of my life really
(9:48:48 PM) Pale Skin man: awww tragic

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Beauty thy name is...

John Legend with Andre 3000 on the track


My affinity for Mr. Benjamin Andre is one of those in which I'm far too intimidated to even express, let alone proclaim any feelings I hold deep inside out of utter respect and inferior mere mortal existence.

I am not worthy, I can only speculate what goes on in that beautiful mind of his.

One of my all time favorites of Mr.Benjamin, with the always effervescent Kelis off of Tasty:

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Slam dunk da funk

yesterday i drove down the streets i used to walk to get home from kennedy high school, its as if it were only yesterday i had just completed my sophomore year, as i ventured down the familiar streets i closed my eyes, i could still feel the unwaveringly harsh, yet intoxicating summer valley sun beating down my on body, with each passing minute walking home the tops of my feet broil until throughly cooked, leaving a tan outlining where my patent lather flats flats and my skin began.

i feel as if time is mocking me

every encounter with the song, the taste, the feeling, of beaten path i once walked along triggers a nauseating nostalgia within i yearn to extinguish

i can feel my forward momentum decay causing my legs to go out under me just as i approach the first check point of the race
...


if my desired state of mind were a campy 90s boy band song in quality of video, and overall caliber of success of said band i want it to be more bsb-everybody and a lot less 5ive-slam dunk da funk/lfo-summer girls (its a toss up both equally horrible)

...probally not the best metaphor taking off point but what a good opportunity to post lfo-summer girls & proclaim my childhood love (BSB for life!), but im sure you get the idea

goal:


currently:



Friday, May 16, 2008

SIKE!

coulda beeen

what i think

....
no clever, no webster thesaurus

just non sequitur off the dome




i like to point the blame on you as to why it took so long for us to be "together"

but in reality i was just as unsure and scared, even more, than you were about it

it scares me to refer to you as my "boyfriend" even to myself


im still scared

i dont know why i always proclaimed i wanted more commitment, let alone a title when im mortified by the thought

ive never had a boyfriend, relationship, nada, because i always said it would happen when it was meant to happen, and when i meant it

on that pfk-playing for keeps in it 100% shit

something real (real, real)something that could make me move something i could feel (feel, feel)

it scares me shitless that you like me, that you choose me, miss pale awkward-will always have a tummy and nooo sorta ass, outta all them other half naked, drunken beezies who woulda given it up a whole lot sooner than 7 months or the beautiful poetic graceful beezies who you could mind sex with

boys ive liked have never liked me back because they have never seen that i truly have to offer, or better yet my quirks that im not willing to compromise, the crazyiez im not willing to shake out, or the clevage i will skank out and show, what makes samantha sooo god damn samantha

but this boy, who im my eyes is perfect because you are anything but whats to put up with all the dumb-ass-stereo-typical-of-women- GAMES that i put you through

& whyy

sometimes i go through your phone because i dont trust you, but i never know what im looking for or what i hope to find

i just never imagined that having this with someone should be so hard
or be so much work

to take a ever-so cliche line outta bright eyes play book "id rather be working for a pay check then waiting to win the lottery"

i like to try to give you an utlimatums when dumb little arguments happen that i dont give a fuck about but i just try to push you and say shit like "well then maybe we shouldn't be together"

im as guilty as you are for everything that has gone wrong

i know it and am fully aware
i would just never admit it to you

no one will ever love me as much as my cat does, but that doesn't mean i shouldn't let someone try


my father has always told me that he "feels sorry for the guy i end up with"
i never really got what he meant, but now i know it all too well

you have the patience of a god my dear boy

maybe i should try giving you some credit and get off my high horse once in a while


i haven't taken a shit in four dayssss because of the vicidon from getting my wisdom teeth pulled

that doesn't apply to anything ive just talked about but i just thought i'd put it out there, because its annoying me and what i want more than anything right now is to see you & take a shit


im sorry for being sorry

text me to let me know you read this, you never do!!!
but please do it, its just good to know that you did