Live from church (w/ Rivera)
Stairway to Heaven
To the StarChasers who've been here from the jump and to the newer StarChasers... I must let you know that God is real, and the correct thing to do is establish a relationship with Him. Now. I know God as a Her, but that was God's way of ministering to me. Like, trying to appeal to me in the form that he knows would get my attention. But God, as a man, is one of the mightiest public figures to ever be seen or heard.
He has apostles, prophets, allies, maidens, virgins, warriors, soldiers, kings... all in this lifetime (and about 2 prior). He would love to have me be a part of his squadron, and in some contexts, I already am. Yet, in this corner, wearing red, black and gold trunks, is the concept of me being a Devil. I often claim being Satan (with the battery of Eminem in my back), and I often claim being born again (with the eye of Dr. Dre being God). The conflict makes me hesitate to create, because... honestly, I feel bad leading you into darkness and not sharing The Joy of The Holy Spirit.
Maybe that's how I'll reward myself. I'ma send y'all niggas to God and have him tell y'all about y'allselves. Because to me, you're all beautiful. No need to pause, no need to speculate. I like to think that it's your collective knowledge of ME that makes a StarChaser some kinda sexy. If I'm wrong, blame Beyonce for making me believe I'm some kinda ancient sexy that there's a jihad over.
I belong to me, until further notice.
Expect some new music, soon.
~Jr.!~
Brothers and Sisters of The Stars
I finally know how to describe the feeling of having you guys as StarChasers. It’s not a word. It’s a blog entry.
A StarChaser is one who astral projects (or “travels”) through my music or the music of others, to meet ME. At the time, if you were to StarChase, you would likely see me having sex with my girlfriend (*drKiwi*). All I was doing was interviews, music, blogs and her. Your mission was to chase away the business people who wanted to separate me from her and replace her with a woman they can control. That would disrupt the natural order of love. Such, being tampered with through me being Sonic and being MADLY in love with her as Amy.
When me and Miss *drKiwi* broke up, everything was in jeopardy. I questioned love, loyalty… and though people were enjoying the music, I questioned whether I had StarChasers. I felt wrong for using fans as bouncers at Club Fuck Simone Porter. But I knew that it was just the x-rated content that would generate interest in my reality as a real, everyday thing. With the evil of my brilliance radiating in my heartbreak, I pushed on.
Mind you, this was around “It’s Charles Hamilton” (#TheHoneymoonsOver). We had a waaaaay to gooooo.
Around 2010, I digitally met Chris Rivera (among other nominal StarChasers). He would post pictures of my posters on his wall. Host several CH-content blogs. Show up during every livestream. Also in 2010, my mental health first started showing signs of decline. Things were going on around me that caused me to implode. Technically, in front of yall. As I listen back to my 2010 music, the quality is IMMENSE… just more now than then.
Look, Ima fast track it. I never saw yall as #numbers or as a #fanbase. I just made music FROM The Spirit of music, as lived by my generation. I try to take it further and backward, avoiding persecution and ignoring ignorance. I just wanna impress my big/lil bros/sisses. I wanted to be The Musical Ed Grimley (look him up). With longevity, of course.
StarChasers, new and old, you guys ARE my brothers and sisters. I’m sensitive about you, as I fought to be able to share my story of how I survived and how I’m surviving. Both in a business sense and in a creative pretense.
Batteries not included.
Thanks for having me, Chris Rivera. I hope I was and am a beacon of light, and that I’ll be out this way again soon. What am I saying?! Vacation (w you) just started!
Chris Rivera, StarChaser Jas and I went to Eminem's Mom's Spaghetti in Detroit!
#CH
The drink kicks in
I wanted yall to FEEL ME, for as many times as I showed you I FEEL YOU. I don’t want any confusion as to who I am. I am inspired by many. Only I motivate me. If you should do so, you are properly credited. I can only think of a few who got me outside as #theweirdo.
J Dilla taught me how to express myself musically, OUTSIDE of the music itself. I just described it, but there’s more to it than words can describe. I use words and letters as chords and solo notes in the scale of conversation. J Dilla’s existence provides me the confidence needed to go in the booth with nothing prewritten and just speak my mind rhythmically. For such, you would have to listen to his music with me in mind. From there, you are allowed to infer and personify yourself there. Just know that you are eroding my soul with every CH you don’t acknowledge.
Hi-Tek showed me the beauty of chopping. Halo taught me the beauty of frequency bending. Where Tek makes beats for people to spaz on, Halo makes INSTRUMENTALS. Doubt me? Try to spit to “Beta Future”. Sheeit, end up on a journey! Also, Halo inspired The Contextual Title Theory. The context of a CH song is not determined by the “key” words in the hook. In fact, the title is the draw to the song. Imagine Hi-Tek level heat with an H2-level context…
Imagine if Halo was Hi-Tek.
I’m halfway getting my hair braided, half getting a blow out. Once my hair is unlocked, I can decide what I want to do.
Blogger isn’t allowing me to post pics for whatever reason. So ima end it like this: love is love, even in warfare. I love you, no matter what you say or do.
Does that make me a fool?
~Jr.~
Beach chair steaming
Unbeknownst to you and… really anyone, I am currently on vacation! I’m saving the details of said trip/who I’m with for a more extensive, expansive entry. Which, depending on how I feel in the midst of writing this one, could be this one.
I just wanted to check in.
I also want to say that StarChasers, I have been really caught up in my world (Harlem, Cleveland, The Illuminati, Cali, FDA). To the point where it is undeniably real, the notion that I’ve lost touch with my listeners. I called myself bringing yall a fresh, Gothic perspective to what is considered a mainstream, Ghetto lifestyle. I was also responding to ignorance being perpetuated by and about me/my music.
For that, I’m sorry. I ostracized you. I gave you what *I* thought you needed, versus what you wanted. Now, with that in the eggshell, do I/can I continue? I don’t feel the same things the same way anymore. The process of finding a sample is more complex. Though I am back on FL, I’m dooinit different. I guess what I’m saying is, be patient. I’m going from telling my story to telling OUR story.
And in this vacation, I became more aware of you/yall/me/us. I just wish who I’m visiting with could see my world (and its perspective). I feel like I’m not making sense right now. All I can ask for is the patience from listeners to craft something that makes sense to all of us. It’s a challenge, and I feel like I put in enough work to be able to branch off into …what I want to do, but this isn’t about JUST me.
Left index up, Goths. Something tells me you know what I’m cooking up. StarChasers, you are SO worth the fight. I’m just trying to find my own worth in this whole thing.
Be proud, NYC! I’m holdin it down under pressure.
~Jr.~
Sidewalks of New York
^
^
I can hardly contain my pride in New York, specifically The Knicks. After decades of disappointment, Brunson and The Boys are bringing a trophy back to the city. All I ask is that the city (find a way to) contain itself so that nothing negative can be drawn from our victory.
"Raised by the city that doesn't sleep. Raising eyelids in the city that doesn't sleep..."
~Jr.~
To go outside (ClaustroClothic)
Gatekeeping a Star
It was always love between us. I provided motivation and charm, you provided inspiration and wisdom. How to move in a room full of of vultures, versus sampling Labi Siffre’s “The Vulture”. The disdain came when measuring success by numbers. Though my views are low, I know for a fact that YOU and your inner circle are watching/listening.
Such being what it is, know that there are other inner circles from which I am mentioned in.
Anything I drop through retail, no matter the price, can be purchased by an opp. Keep this in mind, my niggas.
Stakes is high.
I’m at a point in life where… I am numb to my happiness. I have good friends (knuckleheads as they may be), loyal supporters (sarcastic as they may come across), a supportive family… there is just a bug in me to continue downing myself.
“The Devil is in me; whoever should tempt me is asking for it.” (‘07 CH, “Superman”)
Dead The Devil doesn’t like my success. I fight possession every day. Goths, that uneasy feeling when you see that light skinned nigga w the wavy hair and toe jam breath? Likely that’s the 6z within you trying to intervene without telling you what to do or making you do it.
To fight The Devil would be to down ALL Devils. And I love my niggas. Thus, I been praying for them and letting them know at each chance that God is real. I’ve been told that I should preach. By many, AND God. Shit I dead was preaching in jail! From #DevilSide’s perspective. Booyyyy I was ROCKIN’ it. Niggas dead understood.
My music is Gospel-like, in that ultimately I’m talking to God through astral projection. Upon enlightenment, you can not only see Heaven (in my music), you see God Herself. Stick around and She will morph into He. Stay tuned for the finale…
You see it all through my eyes.
“That’s the part that sucks. Bring it.” (‘19 CH, “Cordless Phone”)
The Grinch
^
^
My Dad to the left, my Uncle Mark to the right.
Whatever.
I know my worth.
Prayers for all.
I'm over here fuckin shit up on FL Studio.
Scream back!
Stagefright
~Jr.~
#KingKiwi's accident (In Black & White)
Still in a nasty depression bout. Saw the results of the game. The ignorance of Trump, coupled with the White Magic of Wemby cause the Knicks to lose. I bet, no matter the outcome of this series, those nuns will/would have put a hex on me. That's dead how they do. Catholics, don't play innocent now. Y'all use magic to fight evil the way I use magic to defend good (at least what *I* find good; y'all should know, AND you'd be surprised... 1ne). Even still, I didn't allow my dark cloud to be a catalys for NYfailure tonight.
And felt horrible because of it,
I mean, I got music made (been WILDING on Fruity Loops lately), and I'm currently blogging. Always a good exercise of the frontal lobe. But I'm a New Yorker at heart. I can get rude, my nigga. And my loyalty can be spoken about throughout the whole city. I feel bad not adding my #spiritfingers to the muscle-bound underdog home team.
Thing is, midway through the game, I realized why I don't watch sports as much anymore.
Brunson is a great player. But my everyday can't be determined by him. TRUST: as much as I love Dilla, it's been a HARD road not being impacted by him, his music, or his passing... or the thought of him being the Neo-Soul 2Pac (iykyk). I adjusted my game to fond, passing thoughts of him being traced in my music, from DIRECT references to him and his music. Same with Em (BIG TIME), same with Dr. Dre, same with Hi-Tek, etc.
It's a little different with #KingKiwi.
lol he is the GROUCHIEST Doberman you ever met. But he's loving, caring, funny, and WISE.
Still in a funk, I walked over to his apartment, hoping to score a quick smoke session and maybe get a laugh or two in. He opens the door, and the tv's on! Thinking it was Star Trek, I opened my mouth to say "Ready, King Kiwi?!". He pointed to the tv, and unlike our Star Trek voyages of yestermonth (pick up Alfred Banks' "Yestermonth" on whatever DSP you use!), it was Black & White.
I sat down.
Upon further observation, #KingKiwi was watching The Three Stooges. Mom was the one who could tell it, I USED TO LOVE THE THREE STOOGES!!! Lo and behold, I cracked up SEVERAL TIMES within minutes. I might not be back to 100%, but thanks to #KingKiwi's satellite television, I remember what it feels like to hurt myself laughing.
A lot was said in this entry. All I know is, I want no smoke with New York, especially over something as (censored) as a championship game. And let's be clear: I get it. It's been a few lifetimes since the Knicks won a championship. But I felt myself go on a downward spiral watching the game, and I needed to redirect my energy into something I know loves me as much as I love it.
She is the only love, for cryin' out loud...
~Jr.~
#
"Less than 3 mins. in the 3rd."
Butterfinger 0fficial lyrics
Workinonit! (potential double-title)
In the last week or so, I've been going over the songs I have the masters to and mixing them over. Yes, the first mix is usually the final mix. But I FOUND MY MASTERS to at least 5-6 years of music! I don't have a lot of Pro Tools sessions/masters, and even then, I don't have Pro Tools. Regardless, I will be dropping mixovers of particular CH joints.
I might have to redo the ENTIRE "Dream On". The mic I was using was a podcast mic (specifically). But "Dream..." has a cult lil bas by itself. As good as I've gotten with mixing, I think y'all would appreciate a fresher mix.
Currently bumping "Death Becomes Her", off #ModernArt!. I can confirm that it was a diss track to my mom... for dying. As much as we beefed while she was alive, almost instantly every lesson she taught made sense. I feel bad for blacking on her when I did. I thought she couldnt see my hard work! I thought she wanted me to be white washed! I'm sorry mom! Shit, I can feel her whipping me now (for carving).
Now look. I've said too much.
Back later.
Speaking of my 3 loves...
Still not a player...
So there are 3 beautiful women in my life. All of whom have been here since day one. Beyond it, even. The first one I met as an infant. She was so peaceful, and all I could radiate was loud music. The best of it, might I add. Still, this isn't about my ability to project music/sound. This woman had a heart like no other. She was my quilt, long before I felt a blanket. Everything about her made everyone around her love and love better.
Keep such in mind.
The second one was always rough around the edges. From an early age, I learned not to get on her bad side. Though that side was what turned me on about her. From an early age, might I add. I never took her snapping (in any context) as anything less than lessons. Don't betray her. Don't insult her. Don't try to outshine her. Yet she begged and begs to be represented by the best of them.
The third one was always a fantasy. Like, a direct fantasy. I met her so late in my life that I lost the gumption to tell her HOW MUCH of a fantasy she is. She doesn't accept mediocrity, but but can be charmed by the minimal. Yet there is a dark(er) side to my fantasy lady: she's in a gang. Which one, doesn't matter. With all due respect and honor to the reputable street gangs. She's in that life. And she can be taken out faster than an "I love you".
Now. Family trauma led to a grueling separation between my first and I. Such trauma made #2 more of a villain than she could've imagined. And I'm shaking the cobwebs off to face an everyday with tres. But I'm sticking it out. I'm right here, until you say to move. And I won't stop you as you walk on by.
I just want a guaranteed plate whenever I pop up at your dwelling.
See? Still not a player!
Dead in
Dead inside
Dead outside
I dead don’t wanna go outside.
I overwhelm by myself, inside.
I am very lonely.
Not crying for help.
I wish I never put my hands on *drKiwi*. Her affection is needed right now.
Why am I so depressed? I have my music, I have fame… I can’t feel the joy I have. I’m hurt by the slightest joke. I hate how sensitive I’ve gotten. I am ALL ABOUT LOVE. I lyrically left Jay-Z alone. I honor Eminem though innovation. I use my soul for Dilla. I’m not wrong.
StarChasers, I’d hate to let you down. But I am obsessed with death. God is working on me.
I don’t wan to cry for help. I gotta do this on my own.
^
^
~~CH~~
Unfeeling
Let me get to the point, early. I just tried to carve (a pyramid) into my arm, and everything felt horrible. Tragically horrible. I reached a depression that legislatively led to carving. Not suicide, not flirting… I just wanna carve right now.
But the pain paralyzed me. The deeper I seeped the blade, the worse I hurt.
I tried y’all. I fought with every fiber in my being to NOT pick up the blade. But it feels pointless now. Is it the meds? I used to have a high pain tolerance. I felt my inner baby hurting. That’s what made me stop. I wanna take this time to thank GENUINE StarChasers. Y’all should’ve came to mind (for me) when o grabbed the blade.
The Bipolar Sunshine has apparently stopped working. My downtrodden mood is literally taking over. Please bear with me. I mean no harm. I just bear pain I never thought… too much.
Father God (in the name of Jesus), show me how to deal with this anvil dropped on my back. You know my heart.
Meds are kicking in HEAVY. I’ll be on later
(written a day ago)
nothing is cheering me up.
%CH. PeacePeace, yall…
Dead "isn't she"(...lovely...)
You know I can brag about you, right? Not that I bodied you, though the sex was career defining. Not that you're the baddest feline to ever be in the studio (with me). But that I can introduce you to the world at large, free of cost, with no emotional taxation.
Maybe a little, seeing as how we have children.
Shit, both o' you Beanstalks, Jack!
lol lil Illuminati humor.
Anyway, I started work on a project similar to another unreleased joint. Both of which go by the name #CharlesHamilton. These might not hit the website, however. And/or if they do, it's in a different capacity. The #cHam era is over, and you only got dosages of it. It was awesome. I feel really in tune with Harlem (!) after dooinit. Like they really call me cHam out there. And spell it like that, too! Yo... I mean Max, Jim, the Harlem Superstars, ...they still be on the block. To be on the block WITH A NAME? NO DRAMA?? Chill. That's a privilege. A lot of cats try to come to the block (be it Lenox, 7th, 8th, ...they leave Broadway and the east side alone) and think they have status just because the rest of the world knows them (in some capacity). No. You are the sweetest sweet potato pie Manna's could cook up. All it takes is a space in between you and the streets and you're WASHED.
I never was a blockhead (unless on Broadway). They knew me, it was always love, but whenever I was outside, I was on a mission. Whether get to church on time to play the organ, get to an audition, ...even when battling throughout the city (BX stand UP! Bates! Brooks!), I never stopped to peep the scenery. I had somewhere to go, and likely it involved money. You don't need to know what's in my pockets, I ain't askin you for the time, I'm not wearing their colors (even though pink is a color for OG Bloods; sorry Cam, sorry Snoop), I WANT NO SMOKE. It's safe to say I fear New York City. And with good reason. I HAVE SEEN SOME SHIT. I even tried to intervene once, and niggas almost bit my head off. I fell back PERMANENTLY over that.
Anything can happen in The Big Apple.
Including a championship!!!
Now, ordinarily I would've rooted for The Cavs. But after they won a ring with LeBron, their championship quest seemed miniscule. Y'all niggas got a post-2010 ring. Yes, niggas wanna see if you can do it WITHOUT BronBron, but that doesnt trump The Knicks GRINDING to get where they are now. If you can't respect the Finals appearance, your whole perspective is wack. Wemby IS a big bitch, tho. And he's a sniper from 3. The Knicks MUST play physical in the paint, to open trey opportunities on O and TAKE THAT BIG BITCH OUT on D (pause).
May the best team win, but NEW YORK IS IN THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And y'all were in my apartment, too.
Remember?
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