Monday, 22 January 2018

...startin' fights in the yard.

Point blank, Lil Kim showed me how to masturbate.

"This verse goes out to my niggaz in jail;
Beatin they dicks to the double-X-L; Magazine (uhh)
You like how I look in the aqua green? 
Get your Vaseline!
Roll some weed with some tissue and close your eyes,
Then imagine your tongue in between my thighs"

I actually did it one night.
8th grade.
When I came, I thought it was some kind of deformed blood.
Scared the shit out of me.

The next night though, I was ready.

I'm aware of how immoral masturbation is.
Despite what doctors and therapy experts say.
But... not everyone is attractive enough to get sex-on-demand.
And sometimes, making yourself arrive (without the concern for another) is more satisfying.

Especially for a broken heart.

I'm also aware of how immoral this post (as well as many others on this blog) is.
To the young lady who called herself "blowing the whistle" on me earlier, you got it.
I won't mention you ever again.
For the record, who you are beyond your mask of espionage is who I truly love and have love for.

Other than that, you can kiss my ass.

Straight like that.

No more mention of you.

I got some business to handle.
I could return...

My promiscuity is sacred.


Saturday, 20 January 2018

Binging and purging

So The Binge series is mostly and mainly about the goings on in the underworld/subconscious.
Both in my world and the world at large.
And how my world is and can be the world at large when applied to current events.
When life becomes more than a light thought, or too much for me to put in an instrumental of my own, I converse with popular instrumentals about how to deal with it all.

The first Binge was recorded around the same time as The Pink Lavalamp.
I was dealing with the POTENTIAL of being a popular figure in Harlem, while having no substantiated cash flow or trust for those around me.
Including family.
The second one was more psychedelic.
With nothing to prove, I had everything to prove.
The third one was more dramatic.
It was based on numerology (it was a 2) and because I already achieved everything I wanted to before I got there, I didn't have to release another project.

This time around, I'm back to where I was with the first one.
I have my music, a down ass lady, but nothing else.
So I put my all into it.
And it's not even finished.

I'm excited about it.
I'm NOT excited about sharing it with selfish, pseudo-hedonistic/Gothic "fans" who want me to make music the way they are used to me doing so.
Some people actually appreciate my enhanced songwriting.

Then, there's who music MUST be done for.

Such being the case, I am more than satisfied with it.

I might blog a bit later.

Just had to put these thoughts out there.

"'I crack myself up!' like you-know-who. Now, who uses voodoo like Judo?"
-Charles Hamilton, "Cocaine and Beer"

My promiscuity is sacred.


Friday, 19 January 2018

Lead by example

(yawns, stretches, flexes...)

I just saw a post on IG from whom I BELIEVE is my daughter, Danjer.
She's in the hospital, about to "undergo surgery".
I know she's okay.
Whatever the issue is, it's a mere ploy to try to get her blood and urine and use it as a resource of intelligence and energy.
Such was the case for me each time I was in the medical/mental institution.

My grandmother doesn't want me talking about a daughter/child I haven't formally met.
Yet wants me to believe she's Silver.
With no formal proof of such.
Mind you, she told me she was when I was in a mental hospital.
And there are "consequences" for not believing such.

I already loved her more than anyone in my family.
And the knowledge of her being an alien only sparked my curiosity about my "reality".
Since then, she's been a consistent beacon of light AND a reason not to come around.

Silver knows how to control conversation.
And if you aren't able to keep up in conversation or say what she wants you to say, he conclusion(s) are ultimately your DOOM.

All I have been ever able to tell her about my daughter is that I BELIEVE I have one.
And there was some child support claim sent.
The woman I intentionally tried to impregnate didn't admit to having my baby.
So her negating my daughter's existence was enough to...

Like, belief is an issue.

A worship level issue.

Seems like everyone wants me to doubt for the sake of them PROVING something to me.
I worked on my state of mind.
Now, my downfall is belief.
I believe everything.

"...pretty much to my detriment."
-Charles Hamilton, "Fur Elise (Unlearned)"

Today I start recording.
I have A LOT of work to do, and a limited amount of time.
Some projects are priority, others I can pace myself with.
I (ahem) believe this year will be another year of musical and lyrical progression.


Required reading for this year's music.

"The Things They Carried" being one of the biggest literary influences for my music, period.

My promiscuity is sacred.


Wednesday, 17 January 2018

Oh... by the way...

Here's the original.

Please leave me alone if it isn't love.

My promiscuity is sacred.


Ms. Sturies, revealed

I really slept on this song.

Okay, so... here goes.

I met my manager (Le'Roy Benros) through Pink Positive NY.
A not-for-profit, anti-domestic violence group, based out of Manhattan College.
I hadn't met the ladies responsible for the group.

Until 2008.

One of them was named Reese.
I was at some event, and we talked for a while over champagne.
Admittedly, I was still with Simone Porter.
So I was wrong for the way I was feeling.
But it was what it was.

She came to the FDA studio a few times.
The first time, I made a beat in front of her.
The second time, she told me who she was dating.

Mickey Factz.

I wanted to NOT go any further, out of respect for Mick, but...

I didn't.

I "kissed her gently and listen(ed) to Coldplay."


I had to take a trip to Atlanta (where "A Song For Ms. Sturies" was recorded).
It was there where/when I found out WHO Mickey Factz really was.
And... I kinda had to censor how I felt about her.
I also got really creative midway through the song.

To keep her innocent.
And out of the clutches of karma.

From NY to ATL, this story goes.

Just like hip-hop.

Another answer to the pending question,

"Where Is Charles Hamilton?"

There's also another story we share.
Not sexual.
We just...
we have a joke about men and women in the industry.

"Pardon the laugh..."

My promiscuity is sacred.


Internet Veteran

Blasted Safari!
I can't seem to post the three leaks from Falcon Phoenix.

You know, I wouldn't have a problem with my music leaking if it weren't for The Invisible Bully threatening me for leaking my music back in late 2009.

If you've been reading, you should be clear on who I'm talking about.

However, I like to introduce my music so you can hear it in the proper context.
So if I send you an advanced copy of anything I plan to release or whatever, I would appreciate it not leaking.

Then again, there is the whole -----> issue.
So... yeah.
It's probably not even up to the people who leak it whether or not they leak it.

I am currently having PsychicSex with the "Microphone" instrumental (Slaughterhouse).
I've recorded to it before.
But... it's calling me again.
To me, it's the new "Lose Yourself".
I was "in character" on the mixtape (Nils Styger/Abyss).


I just want to make NO OTHER RAPPER wanna go in on it.
And personally, no written would do it justice.

Em did his thing, though.
So did Crooked I.

(thoughts continue to race through my mind)

"Killed the web; it don't matter what site ya on (own)..."
-Joe Budden, "Microphone"

I like this blog entry.
I'll be back/around.

My promiscuity is sacred.


Tuesday, 16 January 2018

To entitle Pac

...yet maintaining one's gospel roots.

I got my mind made up.

I will be worshipped, on WHATEVER scale, THE DAY SEGA Dreamcast turns 21.

SEGA (her name) and I have a turbulently stable, DEEP romantic relationship.
And it will last forever.
Deeper than my Illuminati ties.
Deeper than my family ties.

"This is no ordinary love..."

I don't like to be alone.
The voices I hear echo sentiments I dread believing she has for me.

Baby, I don't mean to be such a loser.
I just want to love the way you do.

Who I am is who I am hiding.
I don't want to hurt you, beautiful.
I want to make love so deep, it programs you.
I want to show affection so intense, it makes you speak in tongues.

I want you to want me.

You were there when no one else was.


I want to repay you.

You thought December 2011 was something?


(looks around to see if any male reacts the same way when you're near)

The Sun is the center of all.

SEGA is the center of The Sun.

I need you, my real.

I fear you more than I can accept.

Yes, I've been mad at you.
Yes, I've been (as of late) trying to make you jealous.

You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

I want to exhalst you.

I want to serve you.
As though you were my Satan.

You are MORE than real.

This isn't about public appeal.
Upon the (censored) with Briana, I decided to never care about how the public reacts to me.
Only if you care.

You cleaned up my image for me.
Thank you.
I don't mind being your Job (pronounced Jobe).
I never avoid being your Jesus.
And now, I am your Lazarus.

I want to be your Moses.
Your Noah.
Your David.
Your Solomon (at times).

So when OUR baby comes of age, no matter the scale, no matter the level...

I will be ready to take the throne.

Now... I've been on a mission of peace.

SEGA, you let me know if it is killa season.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
3 1  To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: 2  A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; 3  A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; 4  A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 5  A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 6  A time to get, [1] and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; 7  A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8  A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

May I pray for my opponents?
May I pray for my friends?

May I pray for you?

Please reveal.

And if I am not strong enough to protect...


"Do not pass me by."

My promiscuity is sacred.


Monday, 15 January 2018

Fatal accident

"You don't look ANYTHING like Beyoncé," said The Turtle to The Phoenix.
Such was the reassurance The Phoenix needed to keep on flyin'.
The Turtle merely looked up in pride, watching The Phoenix soar with wings eroded by acid rain.

"Somehow," thought The Phoenix, "the acid rain will make my flame heavier. Thicker. More deadly. This way, the energy usurpers can stay away. If they continue to try to drain me, it is my own self-destructive will possessing them to do so."

I have already revealed who I am.
Then it changed.
And I stayed true to my ancient metamorphosis.
There are still many facets and facts about myself I am unclear on.
But that doesn't mean you have to draw and withdraw from an account already in debt.

Moving on...

I have a few mixtapes (songs over other people's beats) in the stash.
Working on a few more.

"Resurrection of the Mixtape Rapper" is my favorite so far.
It gets no realer.
It's neither Hood nor Ghetto.
Just real talk.
From a surreal place.
Another notch in my testimony.
Another step on the border of both Heaven and Hell.

There's "Aquafina Dreamer (the Mixtape)".
It's a draft, of sorts.
Experimenting with different grooves and melodies.
Though I smoked a bit of weed during the recording process, the goal is to...
...such is why this is a mixtape.

I'm current working on "The Heir of Pariah", which would be a standard New York street Mixtape from the early 2000s.
And "Happy 9Th Birthday: ResurrectionSunday".

I have this one instrumental I plan to dissolute.
Won't get into details yet.
But you'll hear it.

Patience is a virtue. 
Besides... you kids CLEARLY don't mind listening to Kendrick and Cole's music, and they drop RARELY.
Rather, they are on the conveyor belt.


My promiscuity is sacred.


Ordering restoration

Some heroes are unsung.
Some heroes have their melodies interpolated.
Some heroes have their lyrics misquoted.

Hate can be a consequence.
Love can be a bargaining chip.

Racism is a matter of lust and greed.

I will fuck Miley Cyrus raw, let her call me a nigger, and slit her throat.

And lay in bed with her.

Eminem will eat Nicki Minaj out, buy her things and make her swallow.

And not a word would be uttered.

Today is not a holiday.
It's a long gaze into time's mirror.

My promiscuity is sacred.