Tag Archives: life

The One About Self-Awareness.

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I see PRIDE! I see POWER! I SEE A BAD ASS MUDDA WHO DON'T TAKE NO CRAP OFFA NOBODY!!!!

I remember the first time I heard the theory that people are more intimately familiar with who they think they are than who they actually are. Okay, that’s not true at all. I don’t remember when I first heard it, but I do know that when I heard it I immediately said to myself, “self, that’s true”. It makes sense if you think about it. We spend so much time thinking about who we want to be and how we think we come across that reality is like getting slapped in the face with one of Aretha’s areolas, your two ho’s, and a bottle of rum.

With that in mind, over the course of time I’ve come to some conclusions about myself based on what I thought I wanted or who I thought I was and how reality is playing itself out. Some way down like where the signifying monkey used to hang out. Others more shallow than Kim Kardashian in a kiddie pool kickin’ it with two koalas on Koval.

Allons-y.

I thought I wanted to be one of those folks who likes to have deep conversations. It turns out that I want to be one of the people who has deep conversations about ignorant sh*t.

You know Savon from Love Jones? Yeah, I want to be him, except talking about thongs and the importance of Puffy to the fabric of society. But I SO want there to be a drum present. When I buy a house, one of the first things I’m doing is going drum shopping so I can have a truly Black household. All convos will include the drum. I want to talk about how Kool-Aid is truly the key to life and pop culture. I don’t want to talk about important things unless I feel like it. And only on special occasions…like when white people are present. Or in front of Barack Obama, though I’m fairly certain I’d probably talk a little ignant around Obama. The man sings Al Green songs for cripe’s sake. He cool.

I thought I wanted to date women with big hair who had the big hair angst and social justice guilt and conscience who were artsy and blah blah blah. It turns out I just like big hair.

Seems that I couldn’t care about their activism. I just like big hair. Hell, I might actually prefer big haired bougie women. The type with big hair and Coach bags who are as superficial as chicks with perms. I just wanna lay in their hair without the guilt of recycling. Basically, while I love Freddie from A Different World, I’m sure she would have gotten on my last damn nerves when I told her that I thought “Rack City” was empowering to women.

I thought that because I’m a writer and a rapper and an author and talker and because I communicate often I was a good communicator. It turns out that’s not true.

So, despite my uber sharing ass nature, in intimate settings, I can be quite walled off and anti-vulnerable. How’s that for some sh*t that makes no sense. I’m like the Great Communicator Of Useless Information When It Matters Least. I’m Alex Trebek for Dummies. For Relationships.

I thought that majority of my relationships ended because of compatibility issues. It turns out that most of them probably stem from that little communication problem I just shared a few lines ago. No coca-ina.

Now that’s not to say that every relationship that ended didn’t need to end, they probably did. But my inability to communicate properly was probably as culpable for the beginning of the end as any compatibility issue or constant nuisance that I either created or initially found cute but eventually found grating.

I thought that I was one of the few mixed kids who didn’t have an identity issues. It turns out that I do.

Yeah, I can’t decide if I f*ckin’ rock or if I’m f*ckin’ awesome. It’s a conflict that only people of my pedigree can fully appreciate. It’s hard out here for an cool mulatto. Or a culatto.

I often thought that because I was enlightened that I was above certain negativitisms. Turns out my enlightenment helps to inform my ignorance.

This woman cut me off in traffic today. I didn’t call her a b*tch while shaking my fist in my car behind my glass windows. Nope, I called her a wench. Mostly because I like the word and second because I thought calling a woman a b*tch because she’s a woman who pissed me off would make me like every other ignorant man. So wench it was, which I’m fairly certain achieves the EXACT same end as the b-word. I felt bad. But if I didn’t read, I don’t think I’d know the w-word either. Damn you education system for teaching me how to get around general use pejoratives for learned ones! I definitely call ni**as the n-word though.

Anyway, those are some of my self-awarenesses. Sharing is caring people. What you got?

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. STEAL YOUR CURL aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

Is This What Growed Up Feels Like?

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The only NWA I can get with nowadays! Take that Dr. Dre!

Personal growth is a motherlover. Especially when you don’t see it coming. And in some ways it can make you ashamed of who you were just hours before. Or make you call into question decisions you made that led to you making it to the point where you could realize growth that you now have hours later that you didn’t have hours before you experienced said growth.

TCBY.

What am I talking about? Glad you asked.

The other day I was rollin’ in my ’64. Actually it’s an ’07 but who’s counting. Well except for me. Moving on. So I was rolling down the street smoking indo, sippin’ on gin and juice (none of that is true either). As of late my favorite thing to do is pick a Pandora station and kill the battery on my iPhone. Usually its set to either the Patrice Rushen station or the David Axelrod station. Well this fine day, I decided to roll down my windows and blast some of that good ole ignant music I love so much. So I punched in three letters that are world famous:

N.

W.

A.

One of my favorite albums of all time is EFIL4ZAGGIN. Dr. Dre was at his producerial essence on this album and despite its themes (put a pin in that, we’ll get back to this shortly) its a hip-hop masterpiece of beats, rhymes, and life and is sonic perfection. So anyway, I punch in NWA and Eazy E’s “Boyz N Tha Hood” comes on. Okay. Dopeboy anthems have always been one of my favorites and especially since I’m a West Coast music head, there wasn’t much better.

Then it happened.

“Just Don’t Bite It (She Swallowed It)” came on.

Oh. My. God.

Dude, this has to be at LEAST one of the 5 MOST ignorant songs in hip-hop history. Ever. Hell, so is “Automobile” off the same album. Actually so is “Find ‘em, F*ck ‘em, and Flee” on that same album. You know what, f*ck it, EFIL4ZAGGIN is one of the most ignorant pieces of art ever created and sold in commercial outlets. Like seriously…gotd*amn. As I listened to this song (and I know the words by heart) I almost felt ashamed of myself.

Actually, I did feel ashamed of myself. In that one song is rape, statutory rape, complete and utter disregard for women, rampant and blatant misogyny, etc etc etc. Honestly, I kind of wondered how ANYBODY could make a song like that and then say to themselves, “wow, this sh*t is dope.” Dumbfounded. I’m the blast my music loud type of mofo. I turned my stereo ALL the way down as I listened and thought about what I was listening to. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a father to a daughter now or what, but man…

…WHO DOES THAT???

Randomly: I’m not from the West Coast, but it seems like a common theme in nearly ALL early 90s West Coast hiphop involved running trains on women. Um, what the hell is wrong with ninjas in Cali??? Even Ice Cube, arguably the more sensible one of NWA, and the only one to give any of their music any type of substantive element was full of statutory rape and just outright violent disregard for women. I’m not gonna say that it was a West Coast thing, it has been a hip-hop thing, but the abject clarity spoken on those songs is almost disturbing at times.

And I realize that in the hood, things happen. A lot of women involved are willing participants. But who the hell commits sh*t like that to immortality via master recordings? I suppose the same goes with the violent, murder murder murder stuff too.

Obviously, this was is all very conflicting for me because I’m a hip-hop head to the heart. But some of that sh*t just crossed/crosses the line and I’m really curious as to how ANYBODY could make that music. Like, if I could interview MC Ren right now, I’d say, “Ren take me through your thought process when you wrote the lyrics for “Just Don’t Bite It 2 (She Swallowed It)”. Does any of it strike you as not right?”

I’m trying not to chastise my beloved hip-hop and it’s not like I’m going to stop listening to it, but listening to that song shamed the motherf*ck out of me because I couldn’t believe that I used to love it H.E.R. and also that somebody actually made that…somebody with a mama. Maybe this is what growing up starts to feel like. Maybe I already did seeing as how I haven’t listened to anything N.W.A. related in years at this point, partially for this reason and because I have a daughter that I have to raise to love herself.

But egads man…what a lesson. So I wonder, good folks out there, have you had any similar type of “aha” growth moment? If it involved NWA, you and me? We >< here.

Talk to me.

-VSB P aka PETEY WHEATSTRAW aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3

April Showers: In Memory Of…

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Y’all gon’ have to forgive me, because today I just feel like sharing.

I remember when my life changed.

I don’t know if everybody experiences life changing moments or goes through events that cause them to really consider life and all of its possibilities or not, but it happened to me.

The problem for me is that the very experience that changed my life is one where somebody else’s life came to an end. And that is something I’ve been dealing with for 12 years now. I only have one real regret in life. But over time, I realize that had I done something different that night, and thereby erasing my regret, I might have ended the lives of two other people. Not just the one person who’s life did end that night.

April is the birthday month of my cousin. Or would be if he was still alive. April 21. It’s a day that for years has pained me, since for the past 12 years, I’ve never been able to get to Atlanta to celebrate his birthday with my family. Every time I do make it back to Atlanta, one of the first stops I always make is to the cemetery to visit the grave of my cousin, and now my grandmother as well, who is buried right next to him. Just as God intended them to be.

One night, in July 2000, my younger cousin and I went to the movies. We saw Scary Movie . I don’t even remember if it was funny or not. I do remember a conversation my cousin and I had about religion and our upbrining in the church and how we felt at the time. I was 21 and she was 19. The movie was over at about 1135pm. We lived on the Westside of Atlanta, Adamsville to be exact, and we were at Magic Johnson’s in Greenbriar. It takes about 10 minutes to get from Greenbriar to my grandmother’s house. We got there are about 1147pm.

My grandmother’s house has a split driveway. You can either pull into the left side or the right side. I pulled into the right side. Parked. And walked into the basement door. As I was walking in, my cousin, T, was walking out. He would go to our grandmother’s house every day at least once to check on his mother and my grandmother, who would cook dinner for him everyday. You get things like that when you are grandma’s right-hand man. I hadn’t seen him in about a week, maybe. Which wasn’t normal. Not that anything was up, he would either stop by my spot to see me or we’d meet up at my grandmother’s house to say what’s up a few times a week. We have a pretty tightknit family like that.

T: What’s up folk, I ain’t seen you like a week, cuz. What’s up, you ain’t got love for your cuz no more?

Me: What’s up T, you know good and well I love you man. I’ll give you a call in a day or two.

*dapping up in black man handshake hug*

T: Alright, folk. I’ll holla at you later. Bye momma…

He walked outside.

I started to walk towards the stairs. At this point there is about 10 feet between us. He’s outside, I’m inside.

My other cousin, who is his little sister, is between the two of us. And then it happened. He yelled, “don’t hit me folk!!!”

He was gone.

1148pm.

Shot once in the heart. Died instantly.

I honestly never heard the gunshot. And to this day that bothers me. Everybody else heard it but I didn’t hear it so for a second I was confused at what I was seeing. I didn’t see anybody else’s face. I just saw T laid out on the ground, his car door open…

A total of 30 seconds at most passed between the time I got to the driveway and he was killed. At my grandmother’s house.

Which means that whoever did it, was there when I pulled up and must have been hiding in the shadows of my grandmother’s carport, which is literally right next to the door we walked into.

Do you remember the scene in Menace II Society where Stacey is trying to revive Kaine after he was shot? That was us. We were shaking him and trying to wake him up, refusing to believe he was gone. Little did we know he was already dead. One of the paramedics told me that later that he died instantly. At least there wasn’t any pain. I had to make all of the phone calls to the family because I was the only person who could hold the phone. There were four other people in the house when it happened. My aunt (his mother), my grandmother, and his two sisters, one of which went to the movies with me. One of his sisters ran into the street and collapsed. His mother lost it as well. My grandmother and other cousin, both of who have the strongest relationships with God of anybody I’ve ever met, both cried, and then prayed.

It took about 10 minutes for it to dawn on me.

The person who killed my cousin had every opportunity to kill me. He had to have seen my face and my other cousin’s as well. For all we knew, he KNEW us. I was afraid to go to my grandmother’s house, or anywhere else for that matter for a week.

I could have died that night. Had I made the decision that would have erased my regret, and parked on the other side of the driveway, I would have seen him, and he might have killed me and my cousin in order to get away. He was clearly going to kill somebody that night. He came there to complete a job. He succeeded.

And that changed my life. I don’t really remember my demeanor before it all happened. I know I was still a happy person and that I wasn’t very negative in nature. But now…

…it’s hard for me to get upset or really depressed. I have my moments like everybody else. But losing my cousin like that, and being so close to the situation and realizing it could have been me, well, everyday I’m alive I’m happy to be here. I have quite a few friends who have asked me how I seem to be so happy or jovial so often and why not much gets me down. I nearly always respond: because I’m alive. Life has been good to me. And it took that day to make me realize just how lucky I am.

My family was scared for me for quite a few days. My father in particular. I was leaving for a summer program in DC a week later so it was a very tense week in my neighborhood for me. I was scared. But somehow, I was just thankful to be alive. I feel that way lots of times. I have a weird peace in my life nowadays. Some things suck, but it takes me very little time to get over certain stuff. I realized how much I love and value my family.

I love life and living. I appreciate every day that I get. Even the people that drive me crazy are appreciated. Not being afraid to live is one of the best feelings ever. Sure I slack at times, but I know that life is grand and that my cousin is looking down on us while he and my grandmother play backgammon in heaven, something I could never play on Earth.

For a good year, I got really nervous at my grandmother’s house. Even today, every time I walk by the spot it happened, I have to look over and stare for a while. I can’t get the vivid imagery out of my head, and I’m not sure I ever will. It’s part of me now.

I miss my cousin a lot. At least I got a chance to tell him that I loved him. Anytime we have a family function, everybody always makes sure to mention T and make sure we remember him. And because my family is tres ghetto, somebody always shows up with their RIP t-shirt. I myself have two of them.

So every April 21, on his birthday, I make sure to give thanks for his life and remember his death. My life is what it is now because of him.

Always missed, always loved. When they reminisce over you…

One thing that experience taught me is that we’ve all got stories. And that you’d be amazed what people have been through if you just listen. If you’ve got something to share, feel free. If not, that’s all good.

I know it’s heavy for a Friday, but I’ve been hesitant to write about this for years on this site. And today I felt like sharing.

Welcome to Panama’s City.

-VSB P

 PS: For your reading pleasure, check out Champ’s latest article at Ebony, “5 Reasons Kim and Kanye are a Match Made in Heaven”. And for those looking for more philosophical fodder, check out Panama’s latest at Guyspeak, “What’s Worse: The Pr0n Star or The Ex?”

The Five Most Underrated Black Movies Of The Last 20 Years

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Although I still maintain that Black movies can and should do better, I definitely don’t think all is lost with Black cinema. In fact, along with the quotable classics such as “Do The Right Thing,” “Coming to America” and “Love Jones,” there are quite a few (relatively) recent Black movies whose quality and “unforgettableness” has been overlooked to the point where you can justifiably call them underrated.

Here’s five of them.

(Also, before I continue, let me clarify what I mean by “underrated.” You won’t see movies like “Ghostdog” and “Fresh” on this list because, while not many people have seen them, most of the people who have actually seen them think pretty highly of them. The flicks I’m mentioning today have been seen by many, but just aren’t rated as high as they should be.)

“Drumline”

This movie had a very great chance at being shitty. In fact, I remember specifically not seeing this in the theater because I literally said “This movie will very likely be very shitty” when I first saw the trailer and realized that it was starring…Nick Cannon.

Now — and I will definitely devote an entire day to this topic at one point — is there another person in Black culture whose level of cultural (dis)respect is so vastly mismatched with his actual production? Seriously, Nick Cannon has been legitimately successful in everything he’s done, and has helped launch the careers of numerous actors and comedians, and has been with some of the most fantasized-about women in the world, but he still doesn’t get the type of love that his success should warrant. Seriously, Nick Cannon is the reason why this movie doesn’t get the props it should, which is crazy because he’s the main reason why it deserves props!

Anyway, I (obviously) finally got around to seeing it. And, aside from the fact that they cast a 49 year old actor as a college senior, everything about this movie works. The band scenes are cool. The story line is believable. Zoe Saldana and Nick Cannon had genuine chemistry. Shit, they even brought Jason Weaver back from wherever the hell Jason Weaver hangs out when he’s not making movies about drummers.

“Life”

This movie was extremely funny, had a great cast (Seriously, take a minute and go look at its IMDB page), and had a few signature/quotable scenes. (My favorite? The Boom Boom Room bit)

So, with all of this in place, why don’t people talk about it more? Three words: The ending sucked. Now, it wasn’t just the ending that sucked, but the fact that we knew Eddie and Martin were innocent and we still had to watch them stay in prison for 50 years. At first, the whole wrongly convicted thing was funny, but after about an hour or so you can’t help but wonder when the hell they’re going to get out of prison. It would have been a much better movie if they let them go to the major leagues with Bokeem Woodbine and followed their hijinks there.

“Undercover Brother”

Let’s just say that any movie where Dave Chappelle is only the 5th or 6th funniest person in it definitely deserves a shitload of love.

“Hoodlum”

Let’s forget for a minute that Vanessa Williams’ and Larry Fishburne’s romance took up waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much screen time and was about as compelling as a Mitt Romney mixtape. Let’s also forget that Andy Garcia definitely was definitely given a suitcase full of 20 dollar bills to be in this movie. In fact, let’s even forget about the fact that, to be quite honest, the movie wasn’t really that good.

What made “Hoodlum” memorable was the fact that the actors — Tim Roth and Chi McBride, specifically — clearly had fun with their characters, and this made the movie pretty enjoyable. You could even tell that Cicely Tyson probably hadn’t had that much fun since those crazy-ass loft parties Frederick Douglass used to throw.

“Deep Cover”

This movie is largely (and understandably) forgotten about because it was released in that 1989 to 1992 period where heavyweights such as “Do The Right Thing,” “Boyz in The Hood,” “X,” “New Jack City,” “Menace to Society,” “Juice,” and “Boomerang” were made. (Wow. Look at that lineup again. All released within a 30 month span)

Still, this movie is definitely entertaining, and so rewatchable that they decided to remake it 7 years later and call it “In Too Deep.”

Anyway, people of VSB, did I forget anything? Can you name any other underrated Black movies you’d add to the list?

—Damon Young (aka “The Champ”)

***For all the folks in the DC area, this Saturday, April 7, from 930pm-3am at Liv Nightclub (11th and U Street, NW) is another edition of #REMINISCE, the party dedicated to all 90s everything brought to you by VSB, Shine On Me, and Just Cause Events. It’s FREE BEFORE 11 w/RSVP (reminiscedc.eventbrite.com), a Courvoisier sponosred open bar from 930-1030pm, and no dress code! It’s cheaper to come out and party. Last month’s party was OFF THE HINGES! Somebody shook my hand when they left and just said, “Thanks P, for throwing this party…” <—- not lying. So come and make it do what it do this Saturday at Reminisce!***

Curtain Call: Signs It’s Time To Go…From Anywhere

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When he shows up...I'm out.

Earlier today, Lil Boosie (nee Torrance Hatch) plead guilty to transporting drugs into two federal prison facilities. I think its safe to say that he’s about to get buried under the jail. Now, the relevance there lies only in the fact that Lil Boosie looks like the kind of dude I’d avoid in general. And at all costs. You know the look. And do you know why you know the look? It’s because you profile. So do I. Which is how we got here in the first place.

By the way, Kimberly Elise specializes in looking a hot damn mess. Period.

Moving on. I remember a long time ago I was at this spot in Atlanta and a group of dudes who all looked like Lil Boosie walked into the spot. It was at that point that my spidey sense went off and I immediately closed the piano and walked the f*ck out of the spot. Some situations just look like violence or wrong is about to happen. And I for one prefer not to be in that vicinity. Well this random thought occurred to me today about other signs that it just might indeed be time to get the f*ck out of dodge.

Curious? I thought you might be. Here’s a list. Well, below is a list. Underground.

1. My phone battery gets down to 15 percent

I don’t care if I’m at church. If my battery gets down that low, it’s time to roll the f*ck out. There’s something about being lost in the world without a working cell phone. I know that emergencies don’t happen that often and all but what if the ONE time my phone is about to shut off a band of muscular midgets rolls up on me, robs me and I can’t call the police because my phone is dead…because I’m in Zaire. I’d be #madahellshawty. It’s like my own personal checks and balance. My phone battery being low lets me know that I need to rethink my life and be in a safe place. Panic room.

2. Somebody takes off his shirt/wifebeater

I go to clubs where tshirts tend to be frowned upon. But if I see out of the corner of my eye that some dude is coming out of his shirt, I assume that some violence is about to go down. Or in the illustrious words of (the ladies screaming go…) Andre 3000, “two ni**as done started bustin, one ni**a done took his shirt off talkin’ ’bout, ‘now who else wanna f*ck with Hollywood Court’” I know a crime in progress when I see one.

3. Girls get into an argument with a dude

This one is a bit of a catch-22. See, nothing good comes of a man arguing with a woman. But women also know this and don’t expect men to act like men because breasts are present. So the chick will loudcap, push the forehead, mush a ninja, and generally just get brolic on a dude. Thing is, these situations NEVER end well. NEVER. These situations end up on World Star Hip Hop with some chick getting bodied by a dude who will inevitably go to prison at some point in his life. But I can’t just run out the club since I know that the girl will need help. Basically, I stay out of clubs…

4. …where guys show up in the Grown & Sexxy special

You know, striped button ups, really cheap expensive jeans and some ALDO shoes. And fake Gucci sunglasses. At night. When a band of these merry men show up in the club…its time to go. Even if nothing does go down, they increase the potential for f*cksh*t by 1000 percent. That sh*t was written like a Drake freestyle.

Those are some signs that its time to get the f*ck out of dodge. What are some other signs that its time to roll? Share so we all may know.

I’m gully.

-VSB P aka THE ARSONIST aka MR. ITS MURDAAAAAAAAAA aka GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL HE A 3