Yo Mama

Is so fat that she gotta keep pesos in one pocket and yen in the other.
Anybody miss the good ol' days, during the Golden Age of HipHop, when shit-talkin' (known to ethnographers and really fuckin old people as "the dozens") was an integral part of a day spent hanging out with friends???
Me too. Well, what the hell happened to it? My theories are all wacky and conspiratorial. Nonetheless, seeing as that we live in the post-Politically Correct Age, what I have termed the "Apologist Age," I think the humor and openness required to sustain such dozens marathons has been sucked right the fuck out of many of us. It is said by doctors and psychologists alike that laughter is a pro-active factor in good health and longevity. Therefore, on that simple premise alone I believe we should strive for this behavior to become a near-as-possible-to-daily occurence.

Yo mama's so old, she can still read Aramaic...Snap!

Poem for Mahalia

Move On Up A Little Higher
03.25.09


I shit you not
I sat down
put on the headphones
and slapped the needle
down. and
had a spiritual experience:

hearing Mahalia
feeling Mahalia…
but not just in some
simple, auditory audience
way, not just receiving
no…

no.

I channeled a spirit.
Moved up on higher

swept up to the clouds
of the gods
upon the warm updrafts
of her vibrato

suddenly,
knowing all the words
as if I’d been in church
all this time {and I had}

the very sunshine
crept out of her throat
unleashed the power
of faith
to carry on

the foundation of strength
in her breast
that heaved upon
the weary cries
of so many ghosts
that spoke so clearly
in her call
a call to peace
and light
as if Zora or Ralph or Ishmael
had taken
another path in life

the path of swing
gradually, yet surely
firing towards
the sky

the truest of Cupid’s arrows

Bracket 'n' Ball Bustin'!!

Well, even though I'm not winning my Bracket Challenge with John and company, I am feeling pretty good about my bracket. So far, of the 4 bad picks I've made, 3 of those are losses by a combined 4 points. So, it's not like I made stupid picks. I didn't hand my bracket to my alcoholic 5 year old niece and have her fill it out after she's pounded her 5th 40-oz. bottle of malt liquor for the afternoon (this really is a family tragedy, despite the fact that it has fueled her stand-up comedy career).
Some other things staving off catastrophic depression for the staffers of the Intricate Mess are:
- Moderat's self-titled album
- the new DJ Signify
- every single role Michael Cain has in a Christopher Nolan film
- MLB 2K9....though the pitching controls are still a bit difficult (I think they designed it with the idea in mind that every single person who would ever play this game would possess a 64-inch flat screen TV. I have great vision, but I can't fuckin read all that shit!!!)
- new MF Doom
- new Jacaszek. however, there are some anti-dynamic moments that trigger psychotic fissure for me, which is a departure from my expectations after Treny.
- Both of the Intricate Mess's Fantasy Baseball leagues draft within the next 8 days.

thursday's poem

{the tonic is personal:the personal is political}
03.12.09

the melody of my being
resolves at the tonic
when
the road behind me
is dark and bereft of machines
left to flirt with
the moon, as a giant chalkboard
to scribble invisible
poems of love to the universe

the chain is undeniable
yet ignored by so many:
from me
to the road
to the moon and
the universe
and back again
where me is interchangeable
with you, except you find
your own tonic note

I wonder, often
what would happen
if we all were humming our
personal tonics
simultaneously…

It hurts to agree with Stephen A. Smith

So, this morning I'm checkin' email and doing some fantasy baseball research. When I get to the ESPN home page, I see the headline that reads "Sox P Papelbon calls Manny a 'cancer'." This bums me out, for a few reasons. First of all, didn't the Sox trade my favorite slugger on July 31st, 2008? Yes. Then why the fuck are we still talking about this? Is it because in Boston you make sure you let a brown/black person know how unwelcome they are even after they've left town? Fuck if I know and that's an emotional rhetorical question. I also don't like it, because I love Papelbuns as well, but think this is a retarded time to be bashing Manny, from the safety of a Manny-free clubhouse and in separate leagues (for baseball idiots out there: Manny's with the Dodgers in the National League and the Red Sox are in the American League and the two teams won't be playing each other unless it's in the World Series). When I click on the link to the article, I see it's Skip "Broadway MS" Bayless and Stephen A. Smith debating the ethics and timing of this statement. Now, I normally think a.) Stephen A. Smith is a basketball guy, what the fuck is he doing talkin' baseball? and b.) god damn he's annoying, but Bayless (can't type his whole name) is worse. The fuckin guy even said, "I don't like the word 'cancer'. I don't even like using it." Almost like some reformed slave-owning cracker talkin' bout the word 'nigger'. Damn this guy is pathetic (and you know he's thinking it, cuz he's sitting across the table from a black man, Stephen A. Smith). When Smith opens his mouth, yelling as usual, I actually agree with some of it (and I've heard him defend Manny before, which enamores me to him even more). Thus begins my Thursday, agreeing with the lesser-of-two-evils sposrts pundit when it comes to my favorite slugger Manny Ramirez, who, by the way, might be an asshole. I really don't give a shit, because he's brought me significant moments of joy with the swing of his bat.

Castro's Delight (a poem, you assholes)

Castro’s Delight
{03.10.09}

top of the 8th
2 out and a man on 1st
Yosbany Peraza, a 30 year old catcher
steps to the plate

after a swinging strike
on old Uncle Charlie, making
the count 2-1
Peraza launches the next pitch
well into the left field bleachers

a swell of Cuban cheers light up
the Mexico City night
and urge all 262 pounds
of Peraza the Cuban Beetle
around the bases

a fluttering neon bulb
of a memory of Cecil Fielder
skitters across my mind

and I utter, “what a beautiful moment.”
as Peraza is greeted in the dugout
to Castro’s delight

How...embarassing.

So, I'm watching Italy versus Venezuela in the World Baseball Classic and in the bottom of the 5th inning, the ESPN guys are interviewing Mike Piazza, Team Italia's hitting coach. They're joking around with Piazza about getting in the game, as his team had fallen behind 4-0 in the previous couple of innings, and as this is happening Bobby Abreu destroys an Italian pitch all the way to the bleachers in right field. The tone in Piazza's voice turns darker for a moment and is cut off while the play-by-play takes precedence. Then, mere pitches and seconds later, Miguel Cabrera turns another pitch to left-center for back-to-back homers and then Magglio Ordonez smashes a stand-up double and Piazza's voice turns to irritation masked by the knowledge that he's on the air. The camera, a few moments later, is turned on Piazza as they conclude the conversation and he looks like he's about to munch those expensive headphones like a meatball sub and then go lay waste to the dugout. I can't think of a worse time for a coach to be on. Even more insane is that, as I write this post, Jose Lopez and Ramon Hernandez have also gone back-to-back jackers..........in the same inning, bottom of the 5th. Shiiiiiiiiit!

A few musical things to think on...

So, once upon a time I used to keep up on my list of 'albums of the day', a list designed to keep you, my faithful reader(s), abreast of what I'm listening to. And I know you all base at least half of your musical tastes on what I tell you to listen to or what I have been diggin' on, cuz you all know that I have such supreme, refined taste. Well, I kinda fell the fuck off that wagon, so now, I will try to make frequent, yet certainly not daily, posts of records, bands, soundtracks, sound collages, mp3s, etc, ad nauseum that have crossed my hard drive or GabePod or truntable. This week I'd like to start with a record that won't reach most of you, The Alps' two-EP excursion further into psychedelia that harkens to earlier times and other dimensions. The first part is A Path Through the Sun, which is complemented immediately by A Path Through the Moon. The sound contained within would make ancient shamen proud and current stoners turn it up loud. Then there is Larvae's Loss Leader, reviewed very recently by my main man Sjugge Sjugge. Quite a cool hodgepodge of Dust Brothers' ominous bass ethics and a lighter, sunshine pathos of Boards of Canada and, even, Bibio. Also up for consideration, but by no means brand new, is Nalepa's Pomme Granite Dub EP. I met Steve at Decibel last year and had no prior knowledge of holmes, but he is a stellar guy and makes some tasty, juicy beats. In rotation for the purpose of review over at the SilentBallet is Skytree's Windings of the Dragon Track. For as fiercely Burning Man hippie as a name like Skytree can be, there are some pretty sweet tracks on here, though I'd chop it down to an EP.
Enjoy! Ecouter!

This is where we slow down..........

Barry & Harold
{02.23.09}

my heart begins
to slow into a hypnotic rhythm
and all goes quiet
as if soft, protective foam
is minimizing vibrational damage
to my ear drums

tension, backs quickly
out of the room, like receding fog
on fast forward

we’re gonna start by catching two-handed, like we learned in Little League

my anxiety goes numb
fear disconnected by its own neuropathy

then we’re gonna switch to one-handed, Harold.
[just stopping it with the mitt and transferring to the throwing hand, the right in the case of Barry and Harold]

every fiber of my spinal cord
starts firing the same message
of a low hum, like an engine idling
and the physical world’s import fades
amidst the shining aura of movement and energy:

the ball had become the temporary center of the universe:

and now, Harold, we’re gonna take it off the short hop
[angles and vectors chasing a line drawn by a little white sphere and red threading. a string theory, of sorts, fusing two grown men together by the connection of their energy. their mutual love]

Free Leonard

Just a reminder that this gentlemen is still in prison. I know that most people in the mainstream stopped caring once the "conscious" 90's ended, but I'd like to encourage you to sign the petition for House Oversight investigation into the FBI's Misconduct at Pine Ridge. Do it motherfucker, or you're off my Christmas list. For real.

Holy New Fuckin' Record Batman!

Jacaszek, one of my favorites and cousin of Murcof, is releasing a new album March 16th (in Poland...so, hopefully March 17th on the internet, that all-democratizing machine). Basically, if I had to describe Jacaszek in one statement, then it would be Arvo Part on a Psylocibin Beserker-Meditation Session. I wait, slobbering like summertime children at the curb side of the ice cream truck, for this album. And listening to him talk in Polish about the new record is pretty freakin' zen as well.......ooommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Beet That Motha Fucka!

My coworker and friend Josh was talking about having recently done a root roast and he inspired me to do this (above). Lots of garlic, onions, yucca root (instead of potatoes), carrots, red and orange beets slathered in olive oil, some worcestershire sauce, tons of fresh-dried rosemary and some pepper. Then, after roasting for about 45 minutes, I topped it off with the beet greens. Damn skippy this shit is tasty!

Anyone Else Think Anderson Cooper Looks Like A Douche?

Man, I don't care if Anderson Cooper brings the news in the most concise, thoughtful, efficient manner. I don't care if he breaks a story about Dick Cheney's up-to-now secret child pornography ring involving Shetland Ponies. This guy looks like a douche; a reformed frat-fuck date-rapist, who took a communications class and a public speaking class, discovered 12 year old Scotch and Cuban cigars and thusly developed a taste for a life beyond his means. He looks self-important and as if he just recently found Touch of Grey and overdid it.
This, of course, is all misanthropic speculation. Cooper could possibly be a nice guy, but what the fuck do I care?

One of limitless reasons why I love baseball

Interesting how Roberto Alomar got his first career hit off of Nolan Ryan, but was also the last out of Ryan's last no-hitter, striking out on a 2-2 count.

TARENTEL REVIVAL

I remember when I worked at the Laughing Elephant warehouse and Nick the Bear kept trying to get me into to Tarentel, a San Francisco psychedelic rock outfit. It wasn't even that I was resistant to it back then, I think the Tarentel receptors in my brain and energetics network just hadn't been built or finished yet. The last couple of months, the finishing touches have gone off without a hitch, as my "new" love for psych rock (maybe just a rekindling passed over from '60s shit to the now, yo!) has been fueled by the last couple years' listenings of Grails, The Alps and the likes. Sometimes, at least in my philosophy, it's not that you dislike a type of music, but that a key is turned and a circuit is completed and you and the style of sound 'get' each other. You find the kind of stuff that gives you boners and then you find more. Well Nick, I'm sorry it took me so long. If it's any consolation, this band fucking rocks in a totally non-traditional rocking way. Right the fuck on!

LENT is fun to poke fun at!

I need help my friends (or those I pretend are my friends in the ether). It's Lent, I'm not Catholic and I clearly have many vices to choose from which I could give up for this annual celebration of self-deprivation. Won't you help me with some suggestions?