Archive for October, 2012

“The Flyest Nerds”

Posted: October 19, 2012 in Uncategorized

Peace,

Our diets traverse a broad spectrum of austerity, yet share a commonality of poison animal prohibition…we push the intellectual envelope in terms digestible by the black layperson…we teach babies and build our Queens up…we practice the cognitive martial art of scientific yield when destroy power inclinations from our “former lives” urge us to snap wildly…we come in a fine mist yet our mathematical presence is ever resonant, and indeed felt…we love the world, one another, and Allah’s mathematics…we tweet witty words of encouragement to help y’all power through your days…we study and teach the science of everything in life…we err because we are human thus we advocate and seek refinement…we hold our lessons dear…if 40 is the new twenty then nerdy is the new cool…and thus…the Gods and Earths are the flyest nerds!!!

To call me a nerd is to pay me the highest possible compliment, and to be right and exact.  I’m guilty as charged.  I watch Frasier, as  a matter of fact I think it’s one of the most well written sitcoms in the history of television.  Kelsey Grammer is one of the illest writers, but I digress.  I have a deep fascination with this bastard language we speak which traces back to my childhood.  Early on, I realized how powerful the ability to exhibit mastery of it was and found so-called “big words” to be magnetic…hell I still do.  As a matter of fact,   I treat em’ like slang and filter new material into my vernacular periodically when the words that I’ve been using begin to lose their luster like leftovers on day four.  I’m the consummate contrarian, even in my own kingdom.  I’m into shit that the Queen and the young God flat out don’t fuck wit’.  I read articles and books about the mind.  I think “Diners Drive-Ins and Dives” is quality television (even though they cook with too much swine and salt for my taste).  I watch the Iron Chef and Chopped just for the scientific application value (even though I’ve never heard of half the ingredients LOL!)  And you know what else…? I talk to myself in the car on the way home from the justice, AND I FIND IT THERAPEUTIC!

The beauty of it is, I’m not the only one.  I know my nation.  Sure we have our share of former hard rocks, convicts, and tough chicks.  However, we also have plenty of private school educated, corporate America stalwarts.  The Gods and Earths are everywhere and into everything.  That’s part of what makes us so special and allows us to endure regardless of whom or what.  I’ve never been one to join “formal” groups so to speak.  When I was younger, I toyed around with fringe gang affiliation but I never actually joined one.  I didn’t run for student government in high-school and I didn’t pledge in college.  None of that shit ever really had any allure to me.  And then in my understanding ciphers along came this.  What can I say? I was drawn to it…can you say magnetic…?  We are indeed a unique breed…a hybrid league of individuals merging basic ghetto logic and sensibilities with advanced asiatic cognition.  Frankly I think its smashing, and I’m proud to be a part of it.  If we’re honest with ourselves we can comfortably admit that it feels good to belong to something.  I know I know we’re far from perfect, but what collective is?  We are what we are and our culture is freedom…freedom to define and re-define ourselves as we see fit.  What could be more peace than that?  I forgot one last nerdy confession…I like coffee on Sunday mornings….NERD GANG NIGGA ;-D

Peace.

Preme

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The City of God…

Posted: October 14, 2012 in Uncategorized

Peace,

Chicago…Chi-Town…
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Chi-City…The Windy City…C-Medina…all of the above are names synonymous with my birthplace.  Oh what a place it is.  Mine is a city of soul, characterized by forceful winds, cold winters, and a blue collar mystique steeped in a densely layered labyrinth of traditions.  This town has produced a who’s who list of famous individuals from Curtis Mayfield, to Derrick Rose, and a host of others in between.  As is the case with most major cities, Chicago has a personality unlike that of any other place.  It’s a blue collar city full of hard working people who live and die with the promise of the Bears during the football season, and the enduring futility of the Cubs during the summer.  The place of which I speak is the only home I’ve ever known.  My ole Earth was born here, and my ole Dad was brought here to be raised, as a baby.  When you get past the images of Ditka’s Monsters of the Midway bringing us a Super Bowl in knowledge born build power, and the six titles Mike and Scottie won, there’s a closet full of skeletons correspondent to this blip on the map.  The land is extremely segregated, especially the South and West sides, which is where most of the blacks live.  These massive pockets of the city are overrun with drugs, violence, and gangs.  It’s been that way for as long as I can remember and will remain that way for the foreseeable future.  Evidence of the heavy 85% presence in these areas lies in the fact that approximately 70% of the people born in Chicago die there.  As such, it would stand to reason that either all of the aforementioned drawbacks of the city don’t bother them, or they’ve become so oblivious to them that  they simply represent elements which come with the territory.

Big city pride runs deep in Chicagoans, and we represent at every given opportunity.  However, it’s what we represent that’s disturbing.  If you’ve kept up with the news lately, you know that the murder rate is at an all time high.  It’s gotten to the  point that  when the city is mentioned the first thing that comes to mind is danger.  We have some of the worst public schools in the country and recently had a teachers strike.  Simply put, the youth are buck fuckin’ wild.  Once upon a time, in the not so distant past, I was joined at the hip to the city.  I had never given much thought to the idea of leaving.  That is until I met my queen, who hails from the suburbs as her family moved out here when she was a kid.  I moved in with her a few months into our relationship for practical reasons.  The God and Build degrees in the 1-10 came to life in high definition when I got an up close look at the way the colored man lives on his useful land vs. the way we shit all over ours.  Don’t get me wrong, we don’t live in a “rich” area by any stretch of the imagination.  However, the crime rate is laughable compared to the city’s.  It’s rather quiet, and we’re a stone’s throw away from every imaginable restaurant and store as well as the mall.  A 10-15 minute drive can get me anything I need or want.  I haven’t felt so at ease with my living situation since college.  On face value it would seem that all is well, and in some respects it is.  Even still, there remains a pressing conundrum that I’m still striving to fully reconcile.

The lessons tell us that the 5% reside in the poor part of the planet.  They also say that the original man is the God and owner of the Earth, and knows every square inch of it, and has chosen for himself the  best part, he did not care about the poor part.  I’m perfectly aware of the fact that we don’t take degrees literally although there’s an undeniable measure of contradiction between these two in particular depending upon how you draw them up.  The move I made from the hood to the burbs was one that represented elevation for me on a multiplicity of fronts and I don’t regret it one bit.  Frankly, I needed it.  Being 5% doesn’t come with a life sentence which ropes and binds you to a shitty neighborhood.  I have the right to choose where it is that I set up my home.  That being said, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I don’t care about the poor part.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  The poor part of C-Medina is in my blood, and manifests itself in my speech, the way I walk, and my overall persona.  It’s where I came of age and there’s a part of me that will always love it for that reason.  Most of my friends and family are there so it’s not as if I never go back.  On the flip side, I have no intentions of ever living there again because it’s a hell hole.  The streets are so full of pot holes that driving is literally hazardous to your vehicle.  I forgot to mention that niggaz drive like maniacs and will run up on you for something as insignificant as your cell phone. If a pack of young niggaz don’t beat the breaks off you, they’ll just pull a god u now and shoot the shit out of you. So am I supposed to feel guilty because I’m not in the hood anymore? Newsflash, I don’t. Would I like to be able to resurrect a boatload of 85%? Certainly, I mean what self respecting 5%er wouldn’t. Regardless, this is the science. This is not the equality ciphers & the world has changed quite a bit since the nation was manifested. That buildin’ in the street shit will only go so far, especially in a city full of Lil’ Wayne clones. These lil’ niggaz ain’t tryin’ to hear shit about no mathematics. That being said, you do what you can how you can.

I think that one of the ways in which we can take the culture to the next level is by living it out in places where it’s less prevalent. I don’t need to drive an hour into the city to find babies to teach, I live with one, and trust me, he needs all the refinement he can get. C-Medina doesn’t confine or define me. I’m God of the Universe! A lot of people don’t make it out of the area I come from. If you can escape that shit, by all means TRAVEL! The hood is not the ideal place to raise children or have your Queen walkin’ to the store. Just because you come from the worst doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the best.

Peace.
Preme

Peace,

The ability to deeply process the experience of living is one that is wondrous and immeasurably valuable.  If our existence wasn’t intended to be intensely examined then there would be no need for its multiplicity of layers.  Those of us with knowledge of self can be a bit overzealous, at times, in our glorification of this cognitive level of awareness.  We can be counted on to manifest flavorful wisdom and offer bountiful insight relative to everything from eating a healthy diet to becoming more active in our communities.  All of the above is most peace. and undeniably becoming of one doing his or her duty as a civilized person.  As a matter of fact, I applaud all who carry out said duty and implore you to keep it up.  However, when I ponder the varying dimensions of this reality, I can’t help but remain ever mindful of the negative flip-side of the proverbial coin.  When we begin to strip away all the catchy phrases & well wishes for blissful days of mathematical “right & exactness” we find some rather unsavory forces pervading our society.   That is, if we dare to look.  I do.  To say that some of what I see  disturbs me from time to time would be an understatement.  Certainly, I wouldn’t advise people to dwell on such things, or even to invest too much energy in pondering them because to do so can be hazardous to the  psyche and a pure detriment to mood.  Regardless, although we draw understanding up to be the best part, when it’s broken down into “parts” we find elements such as destroy, hell, unknown, devil, savage, and a host of other unpleasant markers within our curriculum which remind us that negative is never too far behind positive.  Our degrees tell us that the original man is the God and owner of the Earth and knows every square inch of it.  They also tell us that Allah is the all eye seeing which means he can see the chicken shit just as clearly as he can the chicken salad…

This is one disingenuous world we live in.  People are so full of shit nowadays you can’t even value pleasantries the way you once could.  Remember when phrases such as “thank you,” “I’m sorry,” and “I love you” really meant something.  That time has passed us by.  Ask yourself this, if a person’s facial expression says fuck you while their mouth says thank you which one did they really mean…?  How much weight do apologies hold at this present date on the rare occasion when people offer them up?  Humanity is so unforgiving because we subconsciously know that a good number of so-called expressions of remorse aren’t born out of contrition.  In many cases they’re nothing more than damage control maneuvers intended to get you to forget how bad you got fucked over by the culprit as expeditiously as possible.  And now we come to the grand-daddy of them all…the absolute most used and abused expression in the history of social interaction…”I love you.”  Stop and think about how many times in your life you’ve asked yourself how a person who supposedly loved you could treat you as if they hate you.  The more pressing question is why do we fall victim to the soothing sensation that each of the aforementioned phrases can elicit?

The answer is that deep down, we’re idealists at heart (most of us anyway).  We desire to live in a world where people are considerate, appreciative, and harbor genuine love and respect for one another.  The sad part is this desire is rarely the impetus that it should be in ushering forth the  actuation of it through our deeds.   My long time readers know that when it comes to exposing the less desirable side of life, this is nowhere near my first rodeo.  Furthermore, I assure you I don’t do it to be a killjoy.  On the contrary, my determined idea is to keep you on perpetual alert relative to the actual fact that understanding is a 360 degree sight of mind so if your lens is clear you can’t act like you don’t see this shit.  If by chance you don’t then this  is a courtesy showing….you’re welcome.  Admittedly, such revelations are monumentally cathartic for me, as I must purge myself of this energy when it builds up within.  I suppose that beyond a bit of cheap couch time, what I really want out of this is a more conscious and aware you.  I want you to dare to question things that seem suspect.  I want you to challenge people to show and prove their word to be bond without fear that doing so will offend them.  Logic and emotion tend not to be the most harmonious of bedfellows anyway, so in a bind, forsake the feelings.  Be advised, it is emphatically not my will for any of us to be callous unemotional cynics.  I just want us to be real with ourselves and each other as it relates to the areas in which we desperately need refinement as a society.

Case and point…my younger physical got out of the joint approximately understanding weeks ago.  He was released to my ole’ Earth’s crib on house arrest, which he’s supposed to be on for knowledge understanding months.  As usual, when he got out he was talkin’ all this fly shit about how he was gonna get his act together, get a justice cipher born, and be an upstanding citizen.  In the immortal words of the one hit wonder Sunshine Anderson, “I heard it all before” (that was the joint back in the day…but I digress).  In one of our first builds upon his return to the free cipher, he told me about how strict his P.O. was, and how hesitant she was to give him movement time throughout the day.   She eventually gave him some and stipulated that he needed to be in the rest by a certain time.  In the literal middle of this writing my ole’ Earth called me to report that this moron isn’t there and it’s past his curfew.  This is not the first such instance that I’ve caught wind of.  Now, let’s take a step back and wallow in the relevance of this story to the build at hand.  My brother has been full of shit for about as long as I can remember and I don’t delude my self into thinking otherwise.  As such, none of the above is a shock to me.  My response is to crack another beer, finish this post up, and get ready to watch Thursday night football.  Why can I be so cavalier about such a situation?  Because I understand every angle of it.  I know that to a high degree that nigga’s institutionalized.  He’s shown and proven time and time again that he doesn’t value his freedom enough to act like he does.  He has manifested virtually no regard for the fact that said actions impact more than just him.  So, although I actually do love him and always will, I’m comfortable saying fuck him.  If he goes back in for yet another parole violation, I won’t lose a wink of sleep over it.  I’m too busy being God.  But imagine how miserable I would be if I bought into the nonsensical notion that he might change, or that he’s just going through a rough time and he’ll figure it out.  I’d be more than just a little melancholy if I meditated on how my ole’ Earth must feel knowing that despite her championship effort to make something out of him, he’s put forth a last place effort toward making something out of himself.  Simply put, I refuse.  See shit for what it is and live accordingly.

Peace.

Preme