The King Charles Era

The King Charles Era
New sound, new style, still the same loser.

And a great save by Music!

Hockey banter.

So today I've reached a new level on the keys!
In my honest opinion, speed isnt a major factor in improv.
Nevertheless, Chick Correa and Eldar are the fastest players in the history of the piano.
Chick Correa is Latin and Eldar is European.
Eldar is just in the Guinness book.

Still, speed isnt that important.

But I've gotten faster.

My complaint about being on medication is that is slows down my playing.
Somehow, switched up my playing style to more chord-based.
This, from melody driven.

I remember one might in LA I saw Brian McKnight play and sing.
He'd probably kill me for talking about his technique, so I won't (at the time of writing this).
But he played with strategy.
I guess my gospel and rock-and-roll roots got the best of me, because, even though I can do what he does, I just jam out.

You can sort of hear my new form of playing in my production.
Once you learn the chords to my beats, you can see and hear where I could go on keys.

Just Charles, my piano album, is all sorts of wicked.
I dont even want to talk about it.
I'd rather you just listen.

This post concludes a jam session I just had, where I broke through the meds and played my heart out.
There is no referee telling me what chords are not allowed, no critic to say they cant follow.
I just went for BROKE.

I might go live in a few to share the musical wealth
Same time, I dont want to.
I feel good being alone.
Feels weird, but it's a good weird.
Plus, my ipod died.
I'd be going live on the device i use for music.

Charles. Ostracized.


Back to jamming.


Overwhelming. Demand.

Being John Nintendo

That's the link.
If on a Droid, extract the files by going to your downloads folder.
If on an iPhone, you may have to download iZip.

Doing so makes you a part of Apple Underground.

The more money I make, the more free music you get.
I'm the Walking Wikipedia.

Thank you for requesting this, SO MUCH, SO SPECIALLY, SO SOON.

Thank you, John Nintendo.

The cover.


The Disappearance of J*Davey

The piano is my altar.
The drums are my confession booth.
The bass is my wine.

The guitar is my witch's broomstick.

My first electric guitar was named No Name.
It was a Rok Axe.
A generic guitar from 125th street.
A great way to start.
Like a basic Stratocaster.

Jenneia Carter (Carterbelle!) gave me her Hello Kitty Fender.
And I went STUPID with it.
"I'm Good (Bret Hard)" was her big mainstream debut.
When I lost my house, I lost Darling Nikki (the Hello Kitty Fender).

My mom gave me an acousticelectric Hybrid.
I named her Christina (miss ya, Teenie!) and... was reserved about playing her at first.
I was using her as an MPC.
When I moved back to NYC in 2018, I played her NON STOP.
Until she died.

Acoustic guitars have life, and they can die when overplayed.

While living at VSDiamond's, I bought a Davison guitar.
Named J*Davey (after the Neo-Soul band).

I went to Baltimore with it.
And yes, I used her as an MPC.
We rode oooouuuuuuuuuuttttttttttt.

I recorded Two: Symphony of the Damned (album) and CHSonicBrain (Funkadelic "Maggotbrain" cover) with her.

When I came back to NYC this time, she flew off into the distance.

When fucked good and right, electric guitars fly off like a broomstick.
Swear for God.

I currently am looking for an all-Black Fender Stratocaster.
That is my guitar of choice.
Davison (J*Davey) was AWESOME.
But I go interstellar with a Fender Strat.

If someone could be so awesome and get me one, or give me theirs, I'll be forever grateful.
I miss shredding.

I have an Arturia MiniLab that I can plug-and-play, so I'm good with keys.
And if anything should happen to Artie, I play keys using the keyboard on the MacBook.

I miss you, J*Davey.
I hope you know I loved you at first sight.

I hope all is well, Darling Nikki.

And No Name, thank you.

Special shout out to Matthew Anderson's old guitar.
I had a BLAST workin' YOU out.


My favorite Nas verse

Look how we treat pregnancy women in the 'hood
Our values so low our values are no good
Things our mothers told us we should of heeded
Cause now we need it
We older almost able to
I'm jealous of you how come you so beautiful?
Smelling fresh youthful intelligent while I'm stressin' and shit
Aiyo I envy you 'cause all you do is smile and things come your way
Such a innocent child is what some say
I get upset 'cause I just want to be treated the way you are
Like a star not a worry in this world thus far
But wait a minute we both need ya mother's attention
I must be crazy jealous of my own baby infant
(Kinda crazy)


Two Point Hospital official lyrics

a.k.a. Nic' @ NiGHT
a.k.a. Nic' @ NiGHT

(verse 1)
None since me. Not even history. Senselessly, niggas wanna get some pot. Vibe with me while I hit the spot. Of which you ain't got. As if it ain't hot... tryna find it. Bottom line. That's how these niggas rhyming. And I find it disGUSting. This discussion is tryna rewind them. Tape over the square. Take over the air in my head. I'm not an airhead. As a matter of fact, it's fair to say I leave the snare dead. Niggas made a genre off of one part of what I'm a part of. And that's cool, but I started what y'all think y'all thought of. My name ain't brought up?

Grab a hold of what you know.
Hope you never let it go.
You know how the motion goes.
No one knows, then I show...

(verse 2)
Illest and the hardest working since "gettin' retarded". Smarter than lurking with all the artists who've been tryna get it in harder than who I'm illest since (or iller since; depends on the day). Innocence. Not mentioning Dilla. I got a killer sense. Pot gets hit with the filter. Bare your soul. Make it unbearable. Give it to the guy who can fix it. The guy is in the digit. Tryna get it. You gettin' mad, but you Flynn'd it. Too many eyes, then rewind it. Tape(,) over. The takeover.

Grab a hold of what you know.
Hope you never let it go.
You know how the motion goes.
No one knows, then I show...

(verse 3)
You meet me with a memory. Then you leave me as a memory. If you leave me, then you meet me with a memory. Mammories CLAMORING to get with me. My own gender. My own agenda. And no one's close to it. Not feminine, just... not a pretender. As in, acting. Niggas get twisted, "(*)THAT(*)'S IT!". Exactly what *THAT* did. That did some shit, ya dig? Bullseye. Crosshairs. Look at that guy. Off with the top. With, becomes of. Run up!

Grab a hold of what you know.
Hope you never let it go.
You know how the motion goes.
No one knows, then I show...

Many shots, many props.
Thanks for listening.
Thanks a lot!


Little bit of this, little bit of that...

Honestly, I've been reluctant to blog.
Diamond deleted every blog post out of a jealous rage.
If you remember, I posted about going down on a female rapper.
I wanted to say it, and there was nothing to stop me.
As much as bitches lust after Ghost ("Power") and Michael B. Jordan, I can lust after a rappin' Latina.

But whatever.

Now I want to vent.

Her and a few others say I say "stupid things" on my blog and on social media.
If I know what I'm saying, how is it stupid?
Is it because I'm not dedicating attention to YOU that it's stupid?
Is it not possible that I am setting up for a bigger point?
Am I not intelligent enough to formulate such a thought?

I explored in my music recently how much I hate my Uncle George.
I used to wish I could be bigger and stronger to fight him.
But I don't like rifts in family, so I'll be pleasantly fake.

Blogging is the only world where I can say what I want.
I don't want to censor myself.
I just have to be reminded that people are reading.
I have the numbers.
I just didn't get into the practice of reading them.
People read my work.
Many modern characters are based on me and my friends.
Or the friends I put out there that I have.

Cigars are bad for my teeth.
I should definitely look into a cleaning soon
I might be getting some kind of insurance soon.
Definitely looking forward to these benefits as well.

With my luck, they'll come in as soon as I sign a record deal.

Yes, Jay.
Some of us live off advances.

I do plan to make investments.
I have a few companies I have my eyes on.

From my observation, when you invest in something after it's taken off, you don't get much return.
So I'm not gonna tell you what I'd invest in (stock wise).
But I believe in these companies and products and feel we both would benefit.

I am almost warming up to the concept of using a Maschine.
I just get BIZZEE with The MPC.
Specifically the -500.
My, how I miss Gadget.
I gave it to VK (no homo) in 2014, because he said he needed an MPC.

I'm always doing shit like that.
I give my last, all the time.
I almost wasn't able to pay my phone bill this month, giving my last for gas money.
This, after I produced and recorded SEVERAL albums for the person in question.

I realize now that not everyone values music.
I do a lot with and through music.
Always undervalued.

Rodney Mudderfuggin Dangerfield!

It feels good to blog.
I plan to do it more and more often.

I was BUGGIN on Tumblr.
I'm just true to Blogger.

I'll be back soon...


Sinning With Permission official lyrics

(verse 1)
I sin with permission now. Which means I grin while I'm gettin' down. If you're interested in what I'm spitting out of my mouth, then listen even further to this lyrical murder of this "OBSCENE" and "OBSURD" track. I know you niggas in the past heard that. You hear them claps? They're so crisp and clean. Like your hands being put together when you wanna hit the scene of church. In the scene, you find it interesting to be an interested teen. Only interested in things that'll lead to your detriment. Like overdosing on medicine. Gotta go into the cabinet, grab some shit, and overdose. And tell your parents it was an accident. But you know what you meant by it. Escape life. You want an escape right? This is that *break* type shit.

When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
It'll take to long to reach me,
Because I'll be getting down!

(veres 2)
I black out like newspapers. You gotta read it. Which puts the red (read) in. Now put your head in. Directly is the newspaper headline. Like "It's about bedtime". So all you other MCs take a nap or two, and I'ma rap in the booth with an attitude. Being the nastiest dude who could rap with views. Mad views. Without even having a tattoo or a chain on my neck. Getting brain and respect from them dames who be reckless. Check it. If you don't like it, then you got to exit. This is my cypher, and I'm on fire. Rowdy Roddy Piper. Elbowing niggas. Or is that Macho Man? Stop it, man... Every time I got to run, I ran. Like Iraq. When I drop them bombs. Now... my hands go...

When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
It'll take to long to reach me,
Because I'll be getting down!

(verse 3)
Oh, my bad. Did I piss you off? It's liftoff. Gotta kiss you off. I get off when I get on a track. I rip on a track. "I rip and I rhyme!", but figure the fact. I'm not Dylan. I just got these high school girls in nylons, trying to be on my song. "Wanna ride the 24-inch python!" I'm that guy, mom! Hi, mom! And... I bomb., eventually. Either way, I was meant to be seen. An interesting teen. Like what I referenced. So I guess me and you are best friends. Mr. Recklessness-in-the-building. I stay wrecking shit with a feeling. No prerequisite. I'm appealing. No accident either. This just a fever.

When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
When it's time for liftoff,
Please be sitting down.
It'll take to long to reach me,
Because I'll be getting down!

Liftoff, lift off.

Liftoff, lift off.

Liftoff, lift off.





Spoiled bookworms

I recently recorded an album based on Mark Twain's "The Mysterious Stranger".
In my library is an album based on "Great Expectations".
There are also elements of Shakespeare, Bela Lugosi, Poe and Hemingway in my work.
Along with folklore from other cultures.

Today, I recorded an album about loving to learn and read.
THE ENTIRE CONTEXT of the album is the desire to know what you are being taught.
The musical element is about the distractions.
Thus being a distraction to the lyrics.
Rhythmically and melodically put together.


I can do that, you know...

Be on the lookout for Practicing Scholasticism.


Replacing Desensitization

Let me start with this: sometimes saying "what it is" requires big words.
That requires one to have a mind willing to learn.

I have come to the realization that labels and label heads dont want to exploit or change me
And that's why it's hard for me to get a deal.
Which is humbling as it is frustrating.

I feel like I sold out a bit for the Republic deal.
I wasn't allowed to talk about Sonic, SEGA or Apple, because "them niggas ain't getting me no money."
A direct quote, from an Islamic-European white woman.
"New York Raining", though a good song and technically a hit, was about said white woman.

As a black man, it is taboo to go down on a white woman.
I did that.
Not as a requirement for the deal, but as a sealant of, "I do this, you hold me down."
To seal the deal, in other words.

I definitely feel like I lost black points in doing so.

Nevertheless, no judgement could come of such if you didnt know.
I told you because the demand for me to be in the mainstream and the requirements are overbearing.

Whether Nadia loved me truly or not is no longer a focal point.
Music and expression, however, is.

My music and self-expression has been mimicked from day one (Kid Cudi, BoB, etc.).
Now i am rather elite.
And alone in being such.
It appears that TheOverheads want to make their own CH, since I cannot be bought or exploited.
And deep down, they love me for it.
However, many have sold out for the chance to live better.
And attack me because I'm not on the auction block.

While all this admiration and backhanded complimenting is going on, I STILL NEED TO SURVIVE.

I've died a few times.
So I know for a fact you wouldn't mention me.
No roses to smell.
But you cannot IN THE LEAST BIT deny my impact on ALL culture.
Including politics and commerce/trade.

My goal is to acknowledge this about myself and give myself my own flowers to smell.

Which is what I am about to do.

Bowl up!

I'm watching you, too!


DJ Chrls Hmltn on the mix!

If you notice a difference in my lyrical content, I've been making music from a DJ's perspective.
Gave me fresh inspiration and subject manner.

Check it out!


Blacking on America pt. 1

You knew who Trump was before he decided to run for president.
You knew his opinions and viewpoints reflected the degeneration of the "decency" of conservative America.
You laughed at his appearance in Home Alone 2.
You watched a Black woman demean herself for his approval.
You know he's homophobic.
You know he's into missiles.

Yet when any American entertainer was in his presence or brought him up, be it as a simile or as a goal, you smiled with entertained glee.

Now the nigga is president.

You ran him through the mud for 3 years on public forums.
You agreed with right wing conservatives and left wing conspiracy theorists until he finally got caught up.

You got all holier than thou when the Biblical "sign of the times" became apparent.

I am much like Trump.

You know and knew what it is/was with me.
Before Interscope.
Before NewCo.
Before Republic.

You decided to allow your "voice" to take precedence over what you know in your mind, heart and soul.

Now, you no longer have me as an ally and pissed off a true megalomaniac, to the point where you are in Jihad with me and in the opening stages of WWIII.

I kid you not.

I was my mother's only child.
That was the only thing keeping me out of the military and the draft that YOUR president, Barack Obama, reinstated.
My mother is dead.
I am 32.
Call me a pussy, but I want any way out of military service, beyond my years in the Harlem Youth Marine Corps.
Said Corps., of which patrolled Ground Zero in 2002.


All you tough niggas and rachit bitches, suit up and grab your fo-fifs.
Y'all of whom talk so much shit should be AHEAD of the front line.
Your opinion AND lack thereof got us here.
Feel free to blame Trump.
The same guy you sold your friends out for to stay in his establishments.
The same credit line you aspired to have, no matter how he himself obtained it.
The same celebrity you would die to hang out with, and would brag non stop about being with should you have the change to be with him.

I might have children.
My son is a warrior, with the heart of a country kid in the middle of the big city.
My daughters are your favorite targets in pop culture.
I don't want a war that would further separate us.
But many of whom have influence find it "funny" to taunt me with (literal) hate and mock the very "goal" of Trump as president.
This is karma of biblical proportions.

Don't let your mouth write a check that your ass can't handle, Good Ol' US of A.

Hulk Hogan turned his back on fundamentals and fandom for his own peace of mind.
AFTER leaving the faction of which gave him the platform of fundamentalism.

US natives, I urge you to leave the Middle East.
Now is not the time to find the glory of The Motherland.

US citizens, specifically New Yorkers, I urge you to leave the Arabic clerk in your local deli the hell alone.
The conspiracy (unspoken) has yet and doesn't need to be proven true.

The overweight, undereducated American citizen is to blame for the pending doom of "this great nation".

By lineage, I am obliged to stand up for this place (Alexander Hamilton).
The same lineage obliges me to reprimand the ACTUAL culprit of this mess (Charles Hamilton Houston).
My relation to The Moorers binds me to my race (Moor/Negro), yet research of self finds me in Ireland (Irish/Caucasian).

Egypt is the heart within that bears the undying love for the serendipitously absent (SEGA).

Don't push me, 'cause I'm close to the edge.
Then again, you pushed your own red button.
You thought it would be cute to have Trump as president.
My opinion on Hillary being president would've brought us here regardless.
A woman is too high-strung for this job, and is biologically predisposed to being devious.

No woman could or would disagree.

This is your grave, America.
Rest in peace.

(mumbles "you can't fuckin be serious, b.", before going to to post whatever I want to say)


Missing the volume.

Where I stay nowadays, I can't turn the volume up AT ALL.
So the attention to detail is extreme, because I'm regulated to the headphones.
It was somewhat the same in VA.
At least in VA there was some sort of support for my music.

One thing I can say about Cousin Rox is that though she was supportive, she wanted to conform.
Same with Lyte.
They both said the best way to make it in the game is by doing the best of what's already out.
So, I told Cousin Rox that I couldn't do what modern rappers do.
To me, it means I have more rhythm.
It's easy to pick up the flow of Trap.
It's difficult to maintain a groove for an album.
In my case, more than just ONE album.

Trap is very boring.
The drum sounds are pretty cool, and if they weren't so overused I'd be all over them.
But the melodies are psychotic trip-endusing and the beats themselves are too slow to do any kind of damage on.
If I ever were to make a Trap album solo/solo Trap album, I'd be using the old Dip Set flow.

If you are inspired to do such a thing, cite your sources.

I keep getting phone calls from an elementary school in Baltimore, saying the kid was absent.
I don't even want to speculate.

I might not like Baltimore, but I felt my absolute freest there.
It's wild out there.
OK Corral status.
If I could only find the damn $1 real estate.

Markus definitely asshole'd his way out of my life.
He drove me to Baltimore from New York, with me under the impression he got a house for $800.
We shot videos the first day I was in Baltimore (Two Point Hospital was filmed in the outskirts of DC).
I allowed him to shoot the "She's So High" video.
I recorded an album for him to make videos to, using royalty free sounds ("To See Nicole").
All of a sudden one day, he's "unable to pay the $200 weekly to stay at Deep Flow Studios".
Same night, DJ Nick gets into beef with some neighborhood kids and threatens to shoot the studio up.

Now Markus won't pick up the phone at all.

I didn't have to allow him to make videos to my music.
I own the rights to all my music, except "The Black Box" and "Hamilton, Charles".
Nevertheless, he let me keep his turntable deck and old MacBook.
I guess he feels he paid his debt.

I can either allow this experience to taint my belief in StarChasers or move on.
I'm leaning towards moving on.

And I'm sure y'all know about this issue with CYoung.

He wanted to start a fake beef to promote our music/collabo with The Weeknd.
I was totally against it.
He decides to keep going and made a nasty remark about me and heroin.
I recorded a verse to this Weeknd collab, BLACKING on him AND The Weeknd.
He goes on Twitter talking shit.
At this point, I don't know how serious he is.
So I challenged him to a battle.

If I would've battled him face to face in NY, as disrespectful as I am, it would've turned into some other shit.
If I would've battled him face to face in LA, as disrespectful as I am, it would've turned into some other shit.

Long story short, we don't speak.
Whether it was a loss or a sign of growth, I'm not into rap beef.
The artists don't make money, and no one claims responsibility for the fallen.

I want to close this blog entry, but I don't know how.
I think I'll just quote Rakim.

I'm Rated R, my brain contains graphic things
It turn traumatic teens into addicts and fiends
It's like watchin' a movie through a panoramic screen
Which means, I can see the whole planet in the scene
Cash is the topic; the object? A fatter pocket
Some take the crack and chop it
But those that haven't got it take away to add a profit
It's catastrophic, I take the gat and cock it
And I'll sit back and watch it
These New York streets is ugly, I keep it gully
The world is mine, and can't nobody keep it from me
Yo, my neighborhood is never sunny
In the place where the number-one cause of death is money
You can try copin'
I've seen enough shit to leave your frame of mind broken
I'm still alive and scopin'
Be 'nother hundred years 'til my skies close in
And I'ma die with my eyes open: The Watcher!


hobby. official lyrics

(verse 1)
Well, isn't this awkward. You're visiting me, listening to a pauper. Listening to the two of a pauper's authored words. Off the curb with curves. Picked up. Looking up. It's a blessing. I get down. Is it good enough? Are you looking up to me while I'm getting down? If so, am I hood enough? Is this kiss not "could" enough? 'Cause it would be what you SHOULD need, but it COULD be the last thing I ever tasteenjoymysenses going insane like an Almond Joy. Aw man. To enjoy. Mace Windu out the window. Then I become a bimbo. Two became why I lose my brain. My MO.

Can you fall in love with me
just to
pass the time?

Can you call in love with me
just to be

past the time?

[but them im paranoid]

(verse 2)
Maintaining my focus. They saying it's hopeless. The noise is poison. The void is trying to continue the enjoyment. Y'all don't want me to continue then silence the deployment. Like Trump with the missiles. I wanted to say I miss you. Wanted to be with you. Not just at that point in time. But I point at that point in time and annoy my mind. The other side of you, a bit older, tossed me the cold shoulder. And the linking part between y'all went all Linkin Park and seen Charles depart. I ain't holding no guilt. Nor am I holding a cup of Silk. Almond Soy Milk. Of course I'm still just a boy, but... feel.

Can you fall in love with me
just to
pass the time?

Can you call in love with me
just to be

past the time?

[but them im paranoid]

(verse 3)
Here we are. Smalls in The Sandlot. My breaking point. Y'all can stand A LOT. Understood, Trump got impeached. Please listen to a real 6ix's speech? Just what it is. FUCK what it is. And any other situation. Love's what I give. And since I gotta pay to share (like a streaming service), TAKE IT! There. Pardon, but Harden... my chin all guarded by the razor that could've touched Charles' wrist if it weren't for me speaking over all this percussion. Call it nothing. At least call it "from the heart". Couldn't be discarded. It's just what's up. When and if. Benefit of the doubt. Kissing the mouth of doubt. Now I'm out.

Can you fall in love with me
just to
pass the time?

Can you call in love with me
just to be

past the time?

[but them im paranoid]



I somehow forgot to mention this.
Any keys/synths/basses you hear in my beats are from my laptop.
No external keyboard.
I play the Apple keyboard.
I do have an Arturia keyboard, but I use it for supernatural control of the sample.
Like an invisible MIDI.
I had Tyrone aka Black the Beast's Akai MPK, but I broke it.
I'm very careful with my instruments.

I mention this, because I recently burned out ANOTHER turntable deck.
This time, a Pioneer.
Basically, it looks like I'm going to be DJing off my laptop again.
My laptop turntable skills can be heard on The Crystal Disco Ball.

An album which is being considered a Top 5 project of mine.

Dedicated to #TheMidnightSociety (the friendslist on

I'm concerned that I'm gonna go balls out with love and support of them and be pushed aside, breeding a resentment meant for relatives, bullies and haters.

I dont like when my unconditional love goes unnoticed or unappreciated.

My patience has been run thin a few times, but I somewhat and sorta know they love me back.

Yo. I was so gassed when I had a (brief) conversation with Cynthia Keller.
FDA is like Bayside and Moesha's high school.
I guess I'd be Moe-to-the-E-to-the.

Can you hear the music in the background?


Back to the original subject.

I can play entire piano solos on the Apple keyboard.
You can hear it on Mankind's (Scityl x IllumiNate) "8-Bit Genesis".
I haven't spoke to Ryl in a minute, too.
I hope he's okay.
I guess we grew apart, ya know?
He has his friends.
His friends are like his fanbase.
Very similar to me.
But he (in my opinion) caters to his friends, whilst needing them.
In retrospect, much like me.
Maybe we're too alike to be around each other.

I recently added Kesed to my NiGHTS Ventura Facebook.
(NiGHTS = NiGHTS Into Dreams, the SEGA Saturn game, Ventura = Jim Carey, the new Robotnik in #TheSonicMovie; villain.)

We speak rarely as well.
I guess our lives took different paths.
I'm sure y'all can remember the glorious late 2000s of me, Kesed and B touring and bugging out wherever we went...

If not, it is locked in my heart for personal reflection.

Back to what I came to do now...

I jam out on my MacBook.

actually, you know what?
All piano questions will be answered 3/17/2020.

Mom's birthday.

Just Charles.

I'm gonna continue listening to #TheMidnightSociety (the project) and nightdaydream about my FDAliens.

-Mr. Mejia


Paul Bearer's smug mug

Many ideas, many emotions.
2020 is the first year I made affirmations for myself.
I haven't made many resolutions, ever or for this year.
One resolution I can make is to blog more.
Doing so will get me back from making music.
But I don't want to NOT .....

Time, space and music itself said I don't have to make another album.
I cracked the code of life.
I'm expecting the assassination attempts in the near future.
But still.
I love music.
And I've gotten better with my technique.

I'll figure it out.

I don't know what's going on with Isa (Valera).
It could be a cultural thing.
She is Dominican.
Anyone who knows me pre-2002 knows I LUSTED after Latinas
Dominicans, specifically.
I let them go after Ms. Fleming (Rice High School) kept talking with her Jamaican accent.

Now I'm JamGirlCrazy.

Not to mention Jan (from Bard) was Trini and Karen Williams was Guyanese.

Aight... back to what I was talking about.

Actually, I don't want to talk about my love life anymore.
I want to focus on music.
I don't want to give/share my ideas.
There are already 2 CH-based rappers who have more fame and wealth than me.
And a "God-fearing" MC/producer who "found his nitch" now that I don't share my ideas.

Admittedly, my SoundCloud has been full of fire.
Tonight (1/2/20) I dropped a personal favorite project.


Okay, so...

I launched a Facebook where I am friends with people (specifically females) I am either very close to or WANT to be very close to.
High school crushes and special males.

Apparently, I'm worth more than I can provide for myself.
So to let them know they've ALWAYS been in my mind and heart, I long-distancely try to treat them special.
I'm particularly excited about going to the Times Square Krispy Kreme when it opens with Kelly and Lisa.
Lisa, don't kill me, but I only vaguely remember you from FDA.
That's the other thing.
Most of my high school crushes are from FDA.

I will never forget Kelly.

But yeah.
I want to be good to THEM.

To everyone else, I am...

The Villain.


Okay so, I'm gonna continue listening to #TheMidnightSociety on SoundCloud and publicly stalk my FDAliens.
And eat my Cup o' Noodles.

I'll be back soon.



"Moment of honesty..."

 A rare Alicia Keys quote to set off this entry...  I'm always touched when people acknowledge my music. It makes all the hard work wort...