I woke up this morning with the urge to CUSS MY MOTHER OUT. How could you leave me RIGHT BEFORE I take off?! How could you be persuaded to subdue me?!! Why were you so strict???!
I suddenly got reminded of all the times where, if I didn’t have or show discipline, I’d be finished. And I *still* lived a rough life. I wanted to be my own dad. I didn’t want my pretty ass, witty ass mom to be Dad. And I was FURIOUS with my dad. How could you be THEEEEE most caring and loving mf, and STILL not be there when I need you?
I can go on forever about him.
Hence the outro to November 10th.
I don’t need to call him a bitch ass nigga. I damn near didn’t MEAN to. I was just selfish… being selfish with Sonic. Sons, if you feel your father is a bitch ass nigga, it will reflect on YOU. Your entire manhood is based on your father’s EXISTENCE. You REFLECT your mother, in your beauty and grace. But that grit? That strength? Pops, all day.
So sorry, mom and dad. I’m just a rebel. Just like BOTH of you. We had good times. The three of us, me and mom, me and dad. We were superpowers, ya know? Dad was a high-powered attorney, mom was a legendary journalist. I was… a Superbaby. Watched by higher ups, respected among my fellow infants.
Maybe this is a freewrite. A poem where concepts and ideas serendipitously connect. It could be a vent, where names are kept/disclosed and thought of with malice. It’s not a love story. Or is it?
I ask myself where I stand with love. Exes, crushes, groupies, strangers, friends… they complete the pentagram, but my failures with each disqualify me from being The GOAT (albeit missing acronyms). This time alone, preparing for the 11/10 show, has helped me come to accept that I am, indeed, a Solitary Witch. I used to delegate society to whosoever should stop by or call. Now, I’m not pressed to talk to anyone. I handle business, but the current situation I’m in doesn’t require me to be business minded. Nevertheless, random neighbors coming to my door asking for stuff is just cause to do whatever it takes to gtfoh.
I enjoy the time to myself. And I know that through it, I am more of an asset to myself and anyone who works with me. Still, what’s a magic trick without an audience? I’m sure drug dealers are amused when they cook up their product. But without users (fiends), all of their amusement means nothing. lol I can finally compare myself to the dealer! Anyhouligan, you can somewhat expect less of me… as you get more of me.
Won’t lie, I’ve been trying to liken my social media presence to one Dr. Dre. Important notices, releases from colleagues, etc. Except it doesn’t work that way. I’m a chatterbox, and I love Love. As soon as I get a notification and it’s an affection-yielding individual:StarChaser, I’m right on it. And SECONDS after I finish, I read between the lines and realize what a mistake I made. Without singling anyone out, often times I’m reached out to by people who want to test the waters. Meaning, see if their allusions would ruffle my feathers. I haven’t let them, lately. But I feel it.
I take my own advice and “roll with the punches” (“Gloves”, suffice it to say it’s an old adage).
I am in pitch black darkness today. I bear the light I wish to see. And those who can be verified, can verify. I’m tired of longing for affection. I’m tired of hyper/overextending myself. I’m tired of it. It’s just hard because I’ve done it for so long. Love still exists within me. I’m just charging myself, every time I want to give it. I still write love songs. I still reach out to my loved “ones”. All I want is to love myself the way I love others.
If you don’t love yourself, how can you expect to love another?
There were FDAliens (hyper-attractive female FDA students), and there were Femaliens (women in general).
Loved equally, but if I got my pinchers on ONE OF ANY, it’s all shut down.
And at one point in my life, I would flood ANY of their inboxes with poetry and CashApp accounts with cash.
It all started in 2012, when I first came home from incarceration. Because of how well I handled myself while locked and earned some key point(er)s in the halfway house, I deemed it necessary to love my SELF more when I got free. It dawned on me that, though I can blame some for chipping away at my inner-security, no one’s going to care if I have years to cry. No one, from friends to family to foe.
They won’t care, because I’ve survived it all.
And NO WOMAN WANTS A CRYING MAN.
Fuck all that “men cry in the dark” bullshit.
So, here I am.
Reintroducing women (and my women) to my #worldatlarge.
I’m not a player. I just have A LOT of female friends. At least I did at some point. Either things got too hot between us, I jumped the gun or they had someone all along. So that’s why I’m not in a rush to reach out. I take responsibility for it all. Well, some of my favorite ladies (peace to DOOM) are reaching out about the show. As hyped as I am about it, it presents an opportunity for me…
To prove to myself that I am worthy of the chase.
The only name I’m going to mention is Simone Porter. The last we spoke, she was planning on coming to the show. Three cheers for rekindling lost love, but she hurt me DEEPLY (broke up w me at the XXL Freshman cover shoot). I’m not seeking revenge, but I’m not trying to curve everyone (INCLUDING and ESPECIALLY Halo) for a “memorable” night with someone who had no reason to leave my world to begin with.
A few FDAliens are talking about coming through. I’m super weak for them, so there’s that. But I want to floss my new discipline. It’s been almost 3 years since I last had sex, and I’m in no rush to cypher my energy. I built it all up. Watch me erupt ON STAGE, *ABOUT*… well, ladies who are no longer in my life.
My composure is breaking as I write.
I’m looking forward to this show. No clue what’s happening after the show. I might wanna be alone, I might roll w H2 and Kesed, might roll w Bash to Harlem… Sciryl’s not in town, so my evening isn’t spoken for. Sha could roll… who knows, man.
I just know that…
“I ain’t a player, I just crush a lot; literally. My high school crush was hot!”
-Charles Hamilton, “Boy Who Cried Wolf”
One night only.
First time ever.
Ladies, feel free to come through and support. You might fuck around and dig it!!!
This *doc* always has a way of influencing me, to my detriment. Sad, because I believed in his hustle. He was more of a class clown than me, and only made himself available when it became evident that I was going places. I was more naive then than I am now. Praise be Zyprexa.
I can hear him in my head, saying I NEED to get back on H to make another Pink Lavalamp. I resented dude then, and now only a few weeks from the 20th anniversary, I want nothing to do with him.
I dont hate anyone. I just don’t deem you worthy of a name drop. In fact, with the momentum I’m gaining (of which I’m thankful and worked hard for), you stand to get a great push yourself. So hold this L while I hold on to my time.
I’m even upset I wrote this.
It’s being written to combat the notion of particular StarChasers insisting the same thing.
I saw from early in the process that talking about H usage was going to be ammunition for the heartless, “inspired” kid who wants to humiliate their favorite rapper’s favorite rapper. And I knew the value of TPinkL before it dropped, based on HARLEM’s reaction to it (I’m moving WITH you, my Beloved Harlem!). I was on pins and needles when it was time to release it, no lie. And as I pick the album apart and attempt to optimize the LIVE listening experience, I am reminded of what I did and did NOT do.
I DID give opportunities.
I DID NOT give a fuck about myself.
Now that I look at myself with a different perspective/mindset/lens, I’m starting to resent the “seemingly harmless” jokes and “better judgement” wisdom.
I shared, when I dared.
I cared, with no one there.
Only I got me here, from over there.
I can’t afford to make jokes on the situations of others. They’ll hit below the belt, I’ll follow-up, it turns into a gang/neighborhood related fight. And, when it’s all said and done, I earned a little over $1 million in my lifetime, BEFORE the age of 21. Only one in my family to do it. Everyone had their doubts, everyone had their beliefs. Did I suffer? Yes. But everyone in the workforce does.
^ ^ ^ Every other week or so, from 2008-2010, I was performing music from The Hamiltonization Process LIVE at SOBs. It came down to people requesting songs that weren't even IN #theprocess ("People of the River", "SEGA Music", etc.).
You inspired me, DeadMan. In your product, in your pitch, in your clientele (list). I was able to look beyond how you treated me AS AN INDIVIDUAL to accept that… you had to adjust to how your neph’ gets down.
May you be able to accept my assessment, because we’re going down the White Rabbit paved steps.
To my understanding, you were representing ME with regards to your aesthetic in our mutually shared chosen expression. And some things I noticed. And yeah, mom knew I wanted to dress like a rapper. And yeah, I was always comfortable in a church suit or just khakis and a polo. But… you were catching wind of such aesthetics, INSTINCTUALLY.
You…
…nigga, YOU.
…
…didn’t know.
KNOW.
You felt. And you felt enough to make you want to keep a healthy distance. But you bled the well dry, not giving much room for ANYONE to express the truth. No less me.
You didn’t know.
So I used your decrepit inspiration to fuel my music for… what is now a majority of my catalog. Whether naming you directly or shaming you insect-ly, all I wanted to see was you making the stank face to the beat as your eyes get bloodshot red for the well-executed return shots. Thing is, you really care about me. So these shots were in the form of self-depreciation, fear, doubt and cowardice (your wife was the only gun I had to your head, at one point; a predictable, selfish one). I went YEARS harboring some ILL feelings towards myself for not being able to say how I felt within, despite being “a Ham”, #classclown, #superpianist, WHILST GOING THROUGH THESE FEELINGS.
You can speculate on why, Sir.
It would only add fuel to your self-righteous fire.
I may have devalued myself, is what I’m saying in a nutshell. Your wealth can no longer be considered easily obtainable. You’re stronger than me, to quote the DJ Jazzy Jeff record I have spinning right now. Where I’m at mentally (at this very moment), this is kinda rock bottom. I’m talking to YOU, ABOUT you, TO you. On my form of media, my blog (Enter the Hamilton). I emptied out a whole self-mutilating clip on myself, just to make YOU look bad. Because I trusted you and felt you weren’t upfront with me. As I've so learned, things were as much of a mystery to you as they were me. I've also learned to forgive those "who trespass against...".
So yeah. Maybe I can make it again. Best case scenario, with the direction I'm going in. Worst case scenario? I get fooled.
And as wack as it is to admit,
...I'm a fool for you, Unc.
Foolish enough to make you brandish your burden of proof.
I’ve learned not to make excuses (moreso in recent years). In taking accountability, there’s no excuse for the decreased quality in my music over the years. I can offer rationales, back stories… just not excuses. It wasn’t guaranteed that I’d ever be back in a professional recording studio. I wasn’t 100% confident in music produced outside of Fruity Loops. MY music, at least. You can include 9th. And I’m literally specifically talking about 2012. The doctor in Cleveland told my mom not to let me use my legs so much, for a reason she went to the grave for (though I think I get it). I just know that, while locked up, I developed a MUSIC style that REQUIRED my insecurity and, yes, bad health.
I had points to prove, adversaries to crush, and love to avenge.
I wrote one of my last few written projects (“CATS Can”) and recorded/released it, to a decent response. But it was what you wanted/were expecting. What I had up my sleeve was much more dangerous, and required you to believe so. Thing is, there was no guarantee I’d be back in a studio. And the beats to “CATS…” were all from my FDA 2006-07 era. So I let the experiments commence and recorded from #myCave. Got SLAMMED for it. So I hustled my name and fame and vowed to give you STUDIO QUALITY MUSIC. I just didn’t drop most of it until after 12/21/2012.
I was (literally) in the studio that night.
I experimented with sound a lot when in these sessions, I’ll admit. Simply because I may have never gotten that opportunity again… or until I get another deal. So that put pressure on the SONGS I would record. Audibly experiment, but keep the record in good condition. In 2012, I decided that a home studio setup is best when you have NO track record to be compared to. And when I listen back, I have fun listening to the different sounds. But 2014, I decided to make it ALL CLEAR.
Then Republic.
Then I got screwed.
By 2017 I was using again, and it was becoming apparent to family (uncle and grandma).
The music was clear, just darker (than ever, at that point) and more esoteric. Clear, in terms of sound and content. I was a vessel for The Devils, and I wanted everyone to know it. Making claims of astral plane threesome sex between Press Secretary Minaj and First Lady Carter. Sending shots at the catalyst for my modern depression, Jay-Z. COMPLETELY IGNORING Eminem (despite listening to Revival later that year). My Uncle George (who I was living with until I moved back to Cleveland) told me to no longer record in his house, because I’m not a “Bedroom Beethoven”. That with my experience, I need to ONLY do my thing in a PROFESSIONAL studio.
Basically, my theory was “the sound quality, despite the HIGH quality of the tools, represented and reflected the circumstances I was recording in”. “Merlin’s Miraclez” sounds good because I was living good (at my Uncle G’s brownstone). "Ugly Desdamona" is rough on the ears because I was living in... a VERY rough apartment with Boe (140th and Lenox). I thought it would be easier to visualize the rough and tough talk by HEARING the stress and strain.
I want to apologize to my StarChasers. I took your love for granted. Now, some of y'all needed to get cussed out, and have since come around to not only apologize for how you treated me, but even went so far as to say you went BACK to the music you were downplaying and said it was ahead of it's time. But there are many StarChasers who were indeed around for a majority of the ride. And I cherished them, but privately. I'm vocal about them now, of course (Drew, Rivera, Mike Dee, etc.). But I definitely feel there were times they appeared in my world and I was a complete dick about it. So instead of singling out StarChasers that were angels/demons in my life, I want to apologize to ALL my StarChasers. The fight is won by clarity. The fight is won by quality. If I can't bring both in a project, I leave it alone.
So, to my StarChasers, I just want y'all to be proud to bump my music. I'm hard at work at this hour to enforce such. Some times it can't get no louder, sometimes it can't get no quieter... I'm not cheating tho.
I really used to not give a fuck... at.. all. I was chasing after more females than The Pink Lavalamp attested to (they were bars, just between me and the ladies in question), did more drugs than I admitted to, made more and better friends on "the outside" than I can stand to forget... stole money from family, ...that's kinda the main thing I'm up tripping about. I didn't have to STEAL. Bad enough I was lying to get the money. No one knew where I was going with the paycheck I would get from working for my uncle. No one knew where I got the drugs from. Fucking, NO ONE KNEW WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT IN MY MUSIC, *BACK THEN*. It was all based on hallucinations and crazy days that no one would believe happened. So I stopped talking and started using more. Around The Pink Lavalamp, when I dumbed down my lyrics and talked about people I knew in common, was when it started to click.
Dumbing down my lyrics... and there is still HEAVY density in TPL... is why I kinda resent the album. I don't feel it expressed my intelligence the way my modern music does. In fact, I will say, from 2014-now, my intelligence has come clear through in my music. Before it was witty and inspirational, despite being dark and fearful. Now, I face whatever fear and darkness I project by ...quite simply standing up to the voices in my head. They tell me I'm not good enough. They tell me to go back to (insert album here) in order to regain the prominence I once had. They tell me to write another (insert song here) in order to go viral. It's not clear that a piece of media blowing up HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE CONENT. And if I've outgrown said album or song on a personal front, I can only submit such growth with the same "blowing up" device and ...see.
In order to manage myself (in general and BETTER), I had to learn how to give a fuck. So, since Leila challenged me to apologize to people in my life I never got the chance to, I'ma start here.
Grandma, I'm sorry I used to use in your basement, and use your basement as a hookup spot for me and whoever was my girlfriend at the moment. You mean more than me than just who had "the free crib".
Uncle, I'm sorry I stole change for a Dutch cigar and some loose cigs. I just knew you wouldn't let me get the money if I asked and knew what it was for.
Mom, again I'm sorry for all the lies... ALL of them... from lying about homework to lying about syringe marks.
To the children I had with 2 Jamaican women who WON'T LET ME SEE THEM, I'm sorry I'm not in your life as much as I want to. Your mother(s) probably think I'm still using and don't want you to be FURTHER influenced by me.
Leroy, I'm sorry I put you through so much hell in 2008-09. I didn't know what was going on, I just knew MANY people wanted to drive a professional wedge into our friendship.
Dre, I'm sorry for not trusting you. We both know how cold Harlem politics can be, and I'm praying that we'll be some of the ones to make it out.
Nate, I'm sorry you saw me tweaked out at AM Studios. Now it's hard to escape you looking at me to see if something was drug related-ly wrong.
Sciryl, Kesed, I'm sorry I used y'all as alibis for where I was on nights I just wanted to binge and not be dealt with by anyone.
HchO, I'm sorry if there was ever a time... and there was... when you needed me to be in communication and I wasn't. I just built a world for myself and didn't know how to management. You were an AWESOME big brother.
I'm sure I can think of a few more people to apologize to. But this was before I met SO MANY PEOPLE. In fact, these "so many people" KNOW ME through this album.
Kinda just blew a gasket (in my head). Gonna take it in for the night.
Never be too prideful to say sorry to someone you've wronged.
I did an interview today with a family friend and media journalist I can trust. The interview went well. We got in depth about The Pink Lavalamp and what I was doing around that time. We used to work together at my uncle's Internet Television Broadcasting Company (Brownstone Digital, Inc.; the modern format for CBS, BET, and SEVERAL OTHER media conglomerates). She asked me how I managed to steer clear of my uncle's watchful eye. I told her "lies".
Lies are why I'm still alive today.
I lied to my grandmother to get money, to my uncle about why I was late to work, to my mom so I can get out the house... then I would lie about NOT having enough money for the dealer, lie to my girlfriend about where I've been (such is documented in a few songs on The Pink Lavalamp), to FDA about being happy... just skyscraper levels of lies stacked on lies. When the interviewer (Leila; pronounced Lee-lah) came up with this segment about who I would want to give an apology if I could, I said to my mother. I used to lie to my mother a lot growing up. Little things that became big things that ultimately led to asswhoopings and lost trust. In the interview, I caught myself in a little lie, as far as when I got started using. And the more I gave it thought, the more grim my history with hard drugs became. I was more scared of my mom finding out I did H courtesy of an OD. That's what made me stop the first time, in 10th grade. I messed around from time to time in 11th, and when I got to FDA, it was barely recreational. I think coming back from college (2006; God damn!) and dealing with a sick/agitating mom (RIP) and my Jamaican girlfriend having eyes for another is what made me dip again.
There's a story Nate told during the Faultlines documentary. I had OD'd on a cocktail of drugs, as provided by a jamband who were rehearsing in the same studio as us from The FDA Studio. That was early summer '06. Bear with me as I try to retrace my steps. I basically lied to Nate and told him I wouldn't use anymore, and then he went away to college. Somehow, I began seeing Jamarris, and that struck him some kinda way. I thought he was jealous. He was trying to keep me focused. His girl and my girl (Toya) were cool, the studio loved Toya... he didn't want me to ruin a good thing by chasing "the prettiest girl in FDA". I lied to Toya about Jamarris, I lied to Jamarris about using...
I feel fucked up again.
Well, Mom, I'm sorry for lying to you like you're someone to be lied to. I was just trying to protect your heart. You would've hated me for using. Yes, I stole money from your purse/ATM, yes that's where I was going when I took so long to come back to the store (among other surprises... I'm a famous rapper, mom!), no, I never sold my body for drugs... I'll tell you any and everything you want to know.
Just talk to me again.
Pardon me, you guys. I gotta clear my conscious of a wicked tongue.
Nothing about us was right. Neither of us want to be wrong. Both of us are proud of our individual and collective passion(s).
We couldn’t get there together.
You’re a whole parent. With tight relations to the streets. Yet it was I who would leave early in the morning and come back at ungodly hours. I thank you for every night you picked me up from Jamaica Station. Every night you left the front door open so I can come in without waking you up. Trust and believe it was never about past flames or future relations. I was grinding, establishing #CDotHamilton amongst the very streets and street niggas I stayed away from.
Until you.
I did a great deal of sacrificing when it came to you. I left my pedestal of wound licking and began from the bottom of the castle. The Tower, if you will. I just wanted you to be proud of me. I was shaking the city UP and DOWN! And I was dooinit, knowing I had “some light skinned bad bitch who could rock the mic at her leisure”. I was crushed when you decided to part ways. But I don’t fight or argue. If you don’t want me in your life, I facilitate you finding happiness.
I hope your son is well. I also hear you are married. Congratulations! Hopefully he knows the wonder of a woman he has. I send my love and regards to your mother, sister and brother. Hopefully, all is well.
I just listened to “Antithesis” for the first time in a WHILE, a few hours ago. MAN! It was a good listen, but VERY self-depreciating. My argument is, saying fucked up things about myself and how I feel about a select few made me feel GOOD. I was depleting my value by giving away arcane knowledge in the form of low blow disses… to people who posed a threat to my sanity (one way or another). “Antithesis” was recorded and released in 2014, and was the #antithesis or OPPOSITE of “Unforgiven”.
“Unforgiven” was recorded after I committed a homosexual act, and felt untouchable… by any and all EXCEPT Harlem. I fessed up to it, to be an example to any and all down low brothers who struggle to coexist with women. It’s not about homophobia over here. It’s about INTENTION. My struggle with women comes from always feeling the need to go out of my way to show affection. Every heartbreak, break up, let down… it all led to February 2014. And since then, I haven’t been more honest.
Whereas I recorded “Unforgiven” with Boe and Dre in Brooklyn, I recorded “Antithesis” in the A$AP Mob’s safe house (lair). The room I recorded in had “TRAP LORD” painted on the wall behind me, as I faced the mic. And during the time of recording, I drew a crowd. By the time you get to “Toodle Loo” (the last track on the album), THE WHOLE HARLEM WAS OUTSIDE. This is around March or April of 2014. It was love, curiosity, wonder, intrigue… not bad for a Cleveland native!
Look. Love will make you do some crazy things. And some crazy things will make you do love. Just LET IT BE LOVE. Don’t prey on those who pray. Which doesn’t mean that those who pray don’t prey. But sometimes you just gotta go with your gut instinct. The management company was called “Turn First” and the woman interested in signing me kept asking about my sex life. And if I had something going on with Boe and Dre. Boe and I were arguing every other day, and Dre requires patience when you ask him for stuff (they call him Hov on the block for a reason). If I misinterpreted what the bitch meant… it’s too late to look back at such a thing. I moved on, my partner passed away (diabetic shock), I have a new person to dedicate namaste love to (the God in me sees the God in you).
Harlem, I know you don’t want to hear gay war stories, so I don’t plan to partake again. I’m kinda asexual widdit. I’m not attracted to men and women are in an interesting season. All I got is my records, my instruments and my mic. That’s the love that kept me depressed in my teen years, not having the means to express myself articulately THROUGH MUSIC.
That problem is gone.
I just want to make music that factually glorifies my Gothic imagination.
Yet,
if you feel you connected to joints like “Antithesis” and “Unforgiven”, BLESS YOU!
No other way to start this off. I want to thank EVERY StarChaser who contributed to the fundraiser to get me back home to Harlem for my high school homecoming celebration. I am extremely appreciative, as it was in FDA that I made the music which… pretty much led me to you.
Accompanying me will be Chris Rivera. He helped set up the fundraiser and has earned the right to enter The Hallowed Halls of Frederick Douglass Academy through his years of diligence, dedication and commitment. See, *The A* isn’t crazy about newcomers. Neither is the block you can find *The A* on. I’ve long since been considered The Block Ambassador (I talk to/say hi to EVERYONE). I’ve just been away for so long. And Hollywood has had me by the BALLS (no homo, if needed). Chris has kept me level headed, whilst reminding me I’m a star.
Here and there, I’ve been asking —Aliens and LionsDem if they would be in attendance. Perhaps it was too early to ask, because… well, they didn’t even announce the RSVP paperwork for Alumni Day. lol I mean, I’m that excited. I might even stick around for the Alumni Basketball Game. I was never one to just *watch* my brothers play ball, and I equally wasn’t one to play ball with my brothers.
Let’s just hope I can get to show Chris the studio. I can only imagine how it’s grown since I last saw it in 2016. Fuuuuuuck! 10 years ago!!!
One thing I want to do, before Alumni Day. If anyone who went to FDA has an issue with me because of my music or things I’ve done outside of being a student, reach out to me. I don’t want what could be a beautiful day for Harlem to get ugly-fied by a misunderstanding. To my knowledge, I’m still good in Harlem. Still good in NYC in total. My immediate family moved to Philly, so …yeah.
Awkwarrrd…
Looks like FDA is the only family system I got in NYC. Of course my brother Maine (Brooks) from Lehman is supportive. VK, he lives right next door to *The A*. Bred, he’s moving around the city. But each of these men have families of their own. Even Sha-Leik, who went to FDA, has his own family unit to tend to. My point is, this is my chance to show that, with the talent I fostered in FDA, I built a community of trust and support. I am independent, with dependency on/to music.
A combination of Hillary Clinton and Frederick Douglass himself: it takes a village to raise a child, and without struggle there is no progress.
I genuinely can’t wait to see whoever should come. And forgive me if I don’t recognize you! “I been looking so long at these pictures of you, that I almost believe that they’re real…”
When I lived in The Bronx, I was… certainly taken by surprise. It was 9th grade. I went from Rice (124th and Lenox, Harlem) to my old neighborhood park (123rd and Tiemann, Harlem) after detention. I had some time before mom got home to know I was in detention, so I moseyed on over there. It was here where I “randomly” found… what devilishly became “my favorite game”:
Diablo II
It’s not quite an RPG, and it’s not quite Zelda. Still, I swore by this game and did what I could to keep from being in detention (to get home and play it). I still got caught up with bullshit in class, still ended up in detention, and because I wrote awesome essays I was able to keep my computer. Other than that, it would be out the window (the way my mom played it). Speaking of mom, I had to hide the game from her FOR REAL. She was a HARDCORE Christian, and BARELY let me play video games (she knew about my SEGA obsession; said it was unhealthy). The damn game was called Diablo. Fuck the fact it was a sequel.
I had a demo of Sonic Adventure. Came with the Dreamcast. But my Genesis was long since lost from our apartment on Broadway (we lived in Brooklyn for a few months; Brownsville). My search for the proverbial “fucking Genesis” is really me finding the time and space for my innocence.
In a way, Harlem groomed me. I measure everything in “ayos”, “pauses” and “no homos”. This is somewhat embedded in me, despite Downtown’s pleas for me to keep an open mind. Im glad they did, I just wish they knew that such is why I’m missing out. Now, the love of Harlem has to trump my love of self. And it was Harlem that embedded #conceit, circa Cam’ron.
I’m not really that conceited. I just have high standards. Set by self and the environment I developed self in. Trust me. People have come to Harlem expecting a village of Pure Charles Hamiltons.
I’m sure Tyronn Lue didn’t appreciate Iverson’s jock in his face, after being scored on. But Lue has 2 rings! Iverson has none. Who’s jock is in who’s face?
I can either break my stride and smoke with you (keeping the friendship alive but killing my voice) or keep going and see you less (such shouldn’t kill the friendship, but the slightest thing can nowadays). I went this whole day, no cigs. And it was almost no weed too, but I had to partake. To mine own self, I apologize.
Very interesting to see who gets upset at the thought of me not smoking with them NOW. I already explained that I lost my falsetto, I almost blew it in DTLA, …like I don’t need to explain that music comes first, and my voice/breath control is a part of it. Anyone who’s not jackin me trying to do better for myself is dead an opp, and needs to keep away from me.
That includes you, my heart/Beloved.
I blame cigarettes for mom, and praise dad for quitting. Even if I don’t quit for good, I plan to have the strongest voice possible for November 10th. My voice is an instrument, and I neglected it for YEARS. Specifically since COVID-2021. No excuses. Time to lock in.
Here’s another reason I hate that you watch: if I fail, you’ll be proven right.
No one ever said your love was unconditional.
So today was another 2 cigs. Whenever I get the urge, I pop a cough drop. Running out of this particular medicated brand, so I will be reupping soon. But yeah. 2 cigs yesterday, no weed, no coffee, A LOT of lemon tea, very little Gatorade.
The key about today is, I didn’t speak much. Didn’t talk to Lou, didn’t talk to Rivera, Baker, Drewzer… only spoke to the company that lives on the building with me. Now it’s not that I didn’t have a voice… I didn’t have the BREATH for a voice. This has happened to me before. For it, I went to urgent care, got drained, went about my business. Monday, I may try that. There is too much on the line with this show, and we’re too close to it for me to have a technical difficulty I could’ve checked WAY before soundcheck.
I don’t mean to make you nervous. Shit, I don’t mean to make my SELF more nervous. I got EVERYTHING lined up for the show, BUT my breath. Just let it be known, the sacrifice of my breath came with QUALITY music, both over the years and in the last…I’ll say five. Once it became clear what you like and don’t like about my music, I leaned on that bitch and pumped out JOINTS.
And if you can’t see/hear it, know that I can and can point it out to you.
Everything seems to go down the rabbit hole from here/there. Nevertheless, there is a great difference between there and here. And I know I make it sound easy (to cope with; living in my world), but a lot of pain and sacrificing comes with maintaining A WHOLE UNIVERSE. And because we all have our own Universe (within, our close friends m, etc.), I’m not quick to run outside and claim that I RUN THE UNIVERSE. Because, in a way, EVERYONE runs The Universe.
I’m just that naive.
It seems that… it looks like you guys are ready for showtime! I’m ready, too. And because I have a good performance record, I’m actually confident. I don’t want to look too far ahead and not give it 100% the night of. But there are big plans for after the show(case). Just… don’t remind me about cigarettes. I lost Mom to ‘em, particular family members are on my ass about it… it was my decision to get a Newport. I did it for me. It’s on me to retrain to where I can push my voice out again. I feel pressured to say “I won’t let you down”. You (the one I hate to know watches) would tell me to panic. Then say what needs to be said to alleviate. Thus becoming habit-forming.
I hate that you watch, because I am FILTHY.
Psalms 51:7
Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
