1. Taking a brief hiatus from shouting GEAUX SAINTS in apt. 302 and listening to Dr. John and Eddie Bo and yeah, a little of Juvenile's "Ha" because I'm an idiot, in order to post this because it leaves me breathless and sweaty. It feels like we're all residents of this neighborhood where Drake is the little loudmouth kid braggin about his greatness to all the kids on the block, singing songs to girls, and then one day E-40 returns from his job driving a big rig cross-country, unpacks his bags, and picks him up by the scruff of his neck and drops him back off at the arcade. I do not care for Drake and I'm not too breathless and sweaty to point that out to you people.
Heavy on the Grind Entertainment is helllllla better than With Luck And Hard Work, You Might Have Success Entertainment. Presenting 40, who I still wanna go half on a sack with, POTNA, and Rick Rock, who emerges from his underground lair every 18 months with testosterone-laced bangers like this. I'm sweaty and breathless and therefore inarticulate, so in conclusion:
BASS. How low can you go. Also, don't get high off your own supply. C'mon, you guys.
2. The opposite of something that's "Illmatic," I think, is something that makes you feel physically ill.
Actress and socialite Paris Hilton (L) and reality tv star Doug Reinhardt attend a performance by rapper Nas during the 2010 Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah January 23, 2010. [REUTERS/Lucas Jackson]
3. “Being a Nigerian is abysmally frustrating and unbelievably exciting” - Chinua Achebe [The Guardian].
(See also: Being an American, being a girl, living in LA, being a football fan, being human, trying to find "Exhibit C" on vinyl.)
“Nigerian nationality was for me and my generation an acquired taste – like cheese. Or better still, like ballroom dancing.
Not dancing per se, for that came naturally; but this titillating version of slow-slow-quick-quick-slow performed in close body contact with a female against a strange, elusive beat. I found, however, that once I had overcome my initial awkwardness I could do it pretty well.”
“Perhaps these irreverent analogies would only occur to someone like me, born into a strongly multiethnic, multilingual, multireligious, somewhat chaotic colonial situation. The first passport I ever carried described me as a 'British Protected Person', an unexciting identity embodied in a phrase that no one was likely to die for. I don't mean it was entirely devoid of emotive meaning. After all, 'British' meant you were located somewhere in the flaming red portion of the world map, a quarter of the entire globe in those days and called 'the British Empire, where the sun never sets'. It had a good ring to it in my childhood ears – a magical fraternity, vague but vicariously glorious.”
Fela Kuti & Ginger Baker - "Ye Ye De Smell"