Mount Kimbie have released their final video from their Crooks and Lovers LP, directed by Tyrone Lebon, who says its,“about trying to find beauty of young people being of a certain age—it plays on the themes of solitude and individual experiences that happens in life often in company of other people. If you go out to a club with friends, you share an experience together but you also have your own unique solitary moments of the night like walking home alone and noticing little details of the city or even whilst still on the dancefloor.”
Taste this stripped down flavor of Kimbie via the great folks over at Daytrotter. Nab dat shit for FREEEEEEE!!!!///YA///DIG/// And by the way, if you're unfamiliar with Daytrotter, who they are and what they do, I suggest you put in some time(work) and get with it. Stop effing around, you're so lame! "There isn't a more essential part to being 'seriously hip' then that of a well informed(this week at daytrotter), daily visiting, session junkie, who knows it's the only place to find newly reworked, altered versions of original songs made original again. From your favorite band to your barely known, up-incoming acts. The brightest, most talented, artists of today, tomorrow, and the future, all lay it out in Daytrotter style. FOR FUCKING FREE."
Since the beginning of 2011, Jamie XX has been hard at work. Repeatedly pleasuring my humble, but arrogant ears. He has failed to let me down. After every release I become even more stoked and anxious for whats next.
First it was the 27 minute,"in the mix for Benji B, on BBC Radio 1," released back in January. A little over a month later, on 2/20/2011, he hit us again, with a nearly two hour long, "6 mix" Initially I had little time to enjoy the "6 mix." But eventually I was able to begin soaking it in. I was really enjoying his solo stuff. I was content with what he had already released, still blog months away from wearing out either of the first two mixes. February had came and passed. We were left with, what I call, "the epic success" aka "the sat 2/20/11, 6 mix," and a 13 track remix album.
In late 2010 early 2011, he released two singles. The first, a remix of the song "NY is killing me," and the second, another remix of the song "i'll take care of you," both songs taken from Gil Scott-Herons last album, "i'm new here." The two singles were well received, quickly catching the attention of the public and the blogosphere. The foundation was then set for the 13 track album produced entirely by Jamie XX and credited to both Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie XX can be found here. "we're new here"
A little further down the calendar he struck again. In April the great folks over at Fact Magazine, released "Fact mix 239" featuring both Jamie XX and Oneman. I didn't get into this one near as much as the others. It begins really mellow, with some disco. It begins to heat up a bit after the four tet "angel echoes" sample. Soon the uk garage/drum n bass sound he's known for appears and he throws in a little dub. Overall a quality mix. Don't let me sell the 23 year old Londoner short. I'm not done yet. On June 6, 2011 he released a self-produced EP "Far Nearer/Beat For." That brings us to where we are now, or always are. On our computers scouring music blogs, consuming mp3's.
August has past and the long awaited "BBC Radio 1 Essential Mix," is a week old. But you might not have it yet, or any of the other mixes. Here is your chance to download almost all of Jamie XX's material released this year. This young producer has had a busy year. Remixes, BBC mixes, a full length, an EP, singles, and more, are all what was officially released to the people. I'm sure he's sitting on much more un-released material. So, we're ready when you are Jamie.
Oh yeah, and one more thing. Another important piece to add to a musicians resume, at least in the UK. Is being one third of last years recipients of the 2010 Mercury Prize(as a member of the electro band "the XX").
this was a non-traditional breakfast. i read about it in a free magazine. I think they used "non-traditional," to help avoid any intimidation or fear caused by such a strong statement like, "a vegan breakfast." a wild and sexy affair where feasting vegans become insanely obese overnight. i first observed all types of spiffy looking 20 somethings. then i spotted, without a doubt, 8 crusty looking 30 year olds. but who's counting? we were all lined up outside. all of us waiting to get some gluten free items and to try their expansive selection of soy based breakfast entrees. it was so classy. i rubbed and caressed the red velvet rope that stretched the whole block leading up to the door. i arrived at the secret location downtown at 6:59:59, cold and tired from the 27 mile bike ride. i hate riding bikes and i don't have a working vehicle. so i commuted via bicycle. i was aware of the dress code, so i dressed accordingly. but the ruler the doorman was using to measure with, had to have been a fake. i know my high heels! just as well as i know the hairs and 3 moles located on my ball sac. not my heels, not my pubic hairs and no mole on me is longer than six inches. it was really hard dealing with the fact that i was turned away. it's not like i received a fucking invitation, in all caps, addressed to me! they made my un-welcoming party even more fun when they sprayed me with a garden hose, with the nozzle head rotated one quarter of a turn to the 'power jet' setting. so now i was dripping wet, soaked, embarrassed, standing there like id been humiliated in front of the whole jr high school lunch room. Then it dawned on me, i road my dads road bike, the huffy "meat eater." painted and stickered with well designed, eye catching decals, that read MEAT EATER. It was so visually captivating i'm sure it was arranged and designed by a young typographer-type with real potential. they took my bike from me and yelled in my face. i tried mustering up an explanation or defense. but i couldn't speak, my mouth was paralyzed so no words were entering the air. i couldn't make a sound. i handed them my wet and ruined i-phone, 5geez or 6geez of nothingness and started walking to the bus station. i thought wow, fuck my life! then the next thing i know, i was sitting upright in my bed at my house 27 miles outside of the city. starving, i walked into the kitchen poured the last of the popov into the highland orange juice jug and cooked a pound of bacon(hormel) and a pound of sausage(jimmy dean). and split everything right down the middle, piece for piece with my italian greyhound
I dont have a whole hell of a lot invested in this blog. It was simply a concept that I'd thought up and designed in my head. I was at a place in my life where I had a lot of free time. I was spending hours everyday surfing the web, consuming content and leaving comments on other peeps blogs. I was spending all day searching for new music, literature and other forms of art. I figured I might as well spend my time more constructively and try to contribute something to the blogosphere, instead of always taking. I thought I would translate my love for pop culture, art, music, politics, philosophy, ect. through the power of the blog. I wanted to collect all those subjects and spit out some social commentary. I thought maybe my point of view, opinions, and thoughts could offer up some entertaining and interesting insight into what is "hip." I dreamt of becoming an internet celebrity or starting a popular blog or relevant website. I really just wanted to get rich. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined my blog would take me so far away from any monetary gain. Seriously Hip has become everything it wasn't suppose to be. Personal, neglected and far from hip. It's more like a journal. Or, "a place where I can gather my interests and express my thoughts." Eventually I would like to start a blog or website like I described. But for now, this is going to remain the place where I vent my frustrations, share my happiness and make an ass of myself. I am rebranding though. Changing a few things up. Its almost been a year and I hope you've enjoyed reading what I write as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thanks!
Effing A....these breaks and spaces are starting to piss me off....seriously?!?! take this, it'll hold you over till I get everything switched up.
famous shame/shameless fame
i came here in search of something sacred. something i could hold onto, something permanent. attachment attached to numbness i cant feel my feet walking barefoot down the city streets. multiple revelations turn into suffering after hearing your, shhhhhhhhh. impermanence. in a life defined by beginnings and ends in a place where your forgotten as quickly as your swept away by time TIME this time i'm doing it for real. i'm leaving my mark upon your forehead. if i fall it will be without you. sprawling downtown intersections with your loose frame and lanky limbs. oh you lovely people we cherish your existence and your dedication to the preservation of our infrastructure and roads....(it's really quite impeccable) just blessed I can be one with something when grazing alleys asking fellow walkers how far it was today that they walked why did you even get out of bed why are you walking when you should be running forcefully into abandoned buildings overcome by rats and thieves lying in piles of garbage collected by the spirits of too many, 1:29 a.m. liquor store runz. just to escape the house it took so many years to build. my house is in order. my lot is clean my chin is up leaning back into the soft hands kept around to comfort and let you know exactly how special you are possessing a uniqueness that only a human individual can a likeness just like hers an image i portrayed in filth and corruption plastered on power line poles missing person found god lying on a bed of hate and judgment only left to self examination leading to extermination.
At least we can say we tried Well at least you did If a house was built on second third fourth chances would you call the carpenter a fool? If forgiveness was lost gone with trust I'm assuming the only feeling left would be lust
I got a guest house right beside the garden A giant glass window with a really shitty view The bed is only a double Not suitable for a single soul I built it for a couple
Who knew a 'crush' would crush him Look what he did.....he fucking crushed her
I stagger alone again Bed sheets stained from roses when I was thinking of you I still do Cant stop That's why it hurts
Never needed so much air Never breathed so much care Never gasped so long Never reached so high Never fell so hard Never felt so close To the color blue Till these feelings of loosing you Started slowly coming true
I was invited given an invitation Upon arriving I realized I've been wearing all black Dressed in guilt and apologies never accepted It wasn't at all broken Why'd you go and fix it? you had your chance(s)..... Thats it!!!!!!!
If u see the old me tell him I called The me from five years ago or just last week'? Open season on the hunt for a familiar face This one, no! that one...it's hard to find him He's never in the same place
They said I came standing Left on my knees People said I changed If you ever knew me She said, "I don't think I even know you." I suggest we get acquainted Maybe run around naked Oh wait, nobody's here......it's only me
Yeah. He is still blogging, on a totes serious level. But only in his own mind. He travels through layers of the psyche, digs deep into his propane sized 'tank,' of emotions. He filters through the good times and the bad. He finds happiness in a life filled with family and friends who love him. He feels the gifts of truth, brought to him by living, breathing, humming, pulsating subjects, in constant motion. Physical and spiritual realities mend his conscious. A being who sees through the eyes of an often conflicted, confused and sad man. A dude who yearns for more. He creates elaborate, exciting, "unrealistic," plans for the future. Then like clockwork, morning, noon and night, he reminds himself, "nothing is unrealistic." He says, "that *****teener mountain, over yonder.....it's not too high." He says, "that river, in the canyon down below......it's not too deep." He's on a quest to find something. Something eternal, something he once had, the connection or oneness it(he) possibly felt as an embryo. He's on a journey to slay the dragon.
He gets in fights with reptilian like creatures. Stuttering, looking nervous and anxious, he reluctantly describes them as having, "gnarly bulging snake eyes, three sharp horns located on the back, and an array of colors similar to that of a rainbow." These fights leave him bruised and battered, sometimes with a limp. Ya see, his knee, it's all fucked up from a motorcycle wreck he got in in the year of 2001. He doesn't always win, but he always learns something new. He comes back with new thoughts and new ideas. New methods of observing himself, others, nature and the relationships he shares with them all. He gains a stronger sense of awareness after every fight, and from every lonely night. Nursing his wounds he prepares for what the next day may hold. Thinking of what new types of weapons his enemies might create. He meditates on life, thinks about a(one) girl, then he closes his eyes and enters his dreams, where shit gets even more serious and crazy. Then he wakes up, maybe composes a couple of tweets, listens to the latest mp3s and does it all over again. This is a day in the life.
You think you know, but you have no idea, this is the true life, of srslyhip.blogspot.com.
Found this old piece of paper with some of my writing on it. It kind of goes with the piece above. I call it poetry, some say it's not poetry, but I write it and I write it for myself, mostly, so I can call it whatever t f I want.
I've been saving all this trash
I don't know where it belongs
I don't want to throw it away
I've got my reasons for this
I'm building mountains of memories from your
Climbing mountains of your cluttered scene
I'm walking backwards down your cynical
Disappearing through the back of your
There's always tomorrow to peak at the past
There's always your sorrow to share with the future
Don't let it destroy you there's always forever
I'll be down for you waiting from under
I'd read all these books just to write you one letter
About four days after the sledding accident I decided to move out of my parents house. Tara and I started up our service again. This was something I did over the years, usually as a secondary source of income. I didn't really plan on getting into the business of pimping, although it did come naturally. It kind of just found me. It found me in the way you and your friend find yourself at the, "Iowa 80, worlds largest truck stop motel," Econo Lodge, with nowhere to go, no food, and no money(that's a whole other story) We did have one valuable 'thing,' on hand, an attractive young lady. And we were surrounded by a bunch of lonely, hungry for love, strung out men. So we did the most rationale thing.
I found out quickly the prostitution business is very lucrative. The prostitution thing is a big part my relationship with Tara. We had a thing years ago in middle school, but nothing in recent years. We still talk, keep in touch and of course do business together. I care for her mostly as a friend. After that first deal we did, when we were broke and desperate, she has become nothing more than an item to sell. I'll never know exactly what it is that enables her to sell her body to any random dude. I always felt bad and thought it was probably attributed to some disfunction in her family, most likely the result of an absent father. A short switch due to lack of attention, affection, and nurturing. I never met her family or heard anything about them, so that is just a guess, but really, who knows. It's apparent she likes to have sex and likes money. And as a pimp, I treat her very well. I never hit or abuse her, I split the profit from every "John," straight down the middle, and nobody else knows. You would never guess at first glance that she was a whore.
I miss u and ur everything
I need u and ur nothing
I can't go on living this way. I can no longer carry the weight of everything that has happened over the last five years. My guilty conscious aches with lust, confusion, and co-dependency. It's true these women know who each other are. But Kara and Sara have no idea I've been in a relationship with Tara. Even if it was just me selling her for sex, as far as they knew, we had not spoken in years. So this was one thing. The second thing was, the entire time Sara and I were together, I had been maintaining a relationship with Kara, via various forms of communication. The third thing being, as deeply, madly in love with Kara as I think I am, I can't stop thinking about how pissed I am Sara is fucking Ronald and how devastating it is every time Tara adds a number to her "number." I'm so confused, so conflicted, and so lost. I'm not even sure I know what love is.
I removed my last post on craigslist ten days ago. I haven't heard from Tara since. Sara wont answer my calls, texasis, or e-mails. Kara and I are still speaking, but I feel like since the "official ending," of our relationship, three years ago when she left for school, I've been a selfish, rotten, lying piece of shit. I don't even know what I would say to the three of them. Most likely nothing of value. Nothing that's going to make things better. Nothing that's going to make everything alright.
I don't care, u think this is a game?
This is my life, this is my reality, welcome to my nightmare
I had a dream last night. I had a dream that all men and women were created equal. And that after this life, all men and women would be judged according to their actions in this life on earth. There were no pearly gates, there was no larger than life being, with a long white beard and a gold staff, no angels, no hell, fire and brimstone. It was only me, all alone. I didn't even have a computer, or a pencil, or a legal pad. I had a vision that I believe was an exact manifestation of myself in my truest form. A quiet, lonely soul, who spent his gift of time only thinking of himself. This dream I had is what has inspired me to come clean. It's not only about me. If I want any company in the afterlife, I'd better start respecting and appreciating the company I have in this life. And if there isn't an afterlife, well, it makes my time and relationships here that much more important. So here goes.
I have thought a million times I'll just let this b
It had been two weeks since I went sledding with my ex-girlfriend Sara and her new "friend," that's a boy. 10 days since I had removed the last classified ad, of my ex-girlfriend Tara, I posted on craigslist under "men seeking women." I was alone in the same crusty motel room Tara had left me in 10 days earlier. The 18" RCA tv, model # j2530bl, had been repeating the same 12 infomercials since she had hurled the remote, among other things, at my forehead. She missed, hitting the walls covered in gaudy flowered wallpaper. The remote was broke and the tv was stuck on channel 44info-blah. I only kept the tv on, because ever since I was a kid it made me feel like I wasn't alone. I feel a kinship with other people, that are out there, somewhere, watching the same thing I am. Or maybe it's the comfort of seeing people. This was the same reason I became obsessed with music, it gives me that similar feeling of security and companionship. Bourbon was sufficient in doing the same. Those vices and devices were always there for me, as long as I had a piece of technology or access to the internet.
There I was, staring blankly into a glass of whiskey, scouring music blogs and shouting curse words at Patti Stannger, who had lost 70 lbs in 7 months using the "SENSA weight loss system." Facebook messages, emails, and cancelled texasis filled my computer and phone. I knew what needed to be confessed was serious and personal. The average contents inside an instant message seem to lack personability and sincerity. So I grabbed a pencil with no eraser, a yellow sheet of paper from a legal pad and began writing to Kara. She was half way around the world studying abroad in Thailand. This was seriously meaningful shit, hearts needed comfort, souls needed peace, and minds needed saving. Explanations needed to become acceptance. acceptance needed to become forgiveness and we all needed a group hug via G-Chat.
Out of the three girls in my story, Sara was the most transient. Never sticking around any place longer than the time it takes a 20 year old to fall in love. She was a globetrotter, cultured for her age. A restless, independent, 'rolling stone.' All three of them seemed to get around. It makes it really hard to form any special bond or meaningful relationship when as soon as you get close to someone, they're leaving. So as it goes, Sara and I began getting closer, much closer than we were growing up. We had known each other for years, just as casual acquaintances. But after Kara left for college, we started spending a lot of time together. We moved in together, moving from Iowa to California to Washington back to California. As we discussed our future together, and how we would travel the world, create authentic little children, save the world and all it's suffering people, and a bunch of other great things, I left out two little 'details.' I never told her that I was still talking to Kara, who she knew as my high school sweetheart. I never told her, that when we were in California, I had been pimping our old 'friend' Tara. She new both these girls and grew up with them just as I did. I'm going somewhere rlly fast I'm nowhere & I got here way 2 fast We were together for about 6 months when she told me she would be leaving and moving to Australia. I pleaded with her to stay. I told her that I loved her. I brought home an Orchid Cactus and we made love. After a long talk and four consecutive spins of the Postal Service album "Give Up," I had convinced her to stay. Things were getting hot and heavy. I was thinking less about myself and more about her. All that, while pimping Tara and having random texa-sexting sessions with Kara. On a cold and rainy day in early November, a thick fog descended on our coastal port. I disappeared for three days. Throughout the half of a week I was gone, Sara started getting suspicious. After not calling or showing up, absent for three days. I soon returned and I didn't know what to say. She told me she called all the jails and hospitals fearing the worst. There was no excuse for my stunt, so I didn't give one. She did ask where I was, and I said, "I got stuck up in the mountains, I'm sorry." A week later she had printed out three months worth of texasis and two juicy e-mails where Kara and I had discussed being soul-mates, getting back together, and other intimate things. She also found three receipts from various motels around the greater Eureka area. She found the receipts while doing my laundry. I'm guessing she got into my e-mails while I was gone those three days. And I later found out, she got those texasis from begging our cell phone provider, making up an elaborate story as to why it was that she needed them.
We got into huge fights every night for a couple of weeks. She would loose her temper and throw shit like, shoes, random Buddhist ornaments and statues, plates, and knives. One night the neighbors overheard us fighting and were apparently standing concerned at the front door while she was throwing butter knives covered in miracle whip, sending them twirling across the living room. They called the cops and she went to Jail for "class 2 assault." As soon as she got the bail money, wired from her Dad in New York, she was out and back at our house, packing her bags. She told me she was leaving for real this time, moving with her co-worker Ronald to Oregon. I had no idea she even had a male co-worker. I thought she worked with a couple of other girls, in an office, for a Real-Estate Agent. I was saddened, struck with a sudden depression. All alone feeling the 416 miles of separation. Overwhelmed with anxiety and loneliness. We occasionally talked and texasid on the phone. We wrote wall to wall on facebook. We stayed in touch. All the way up until she brought Ronald back to our Hometown in Ames, Iowa.
I see u trembling yet ur still shaking hands
Ur far a way yet I'm still making plans
Two weeks ago they took a one-way flight to this shit hole. She brought him over for a spaghetti dinner at my parents, where I was currently living. I was jealous, but I never wanted to act like I cared as much as I really did. We were always "just friends," who ended up getting a little more romantically involved than most friends. After dinner we went sledding on bloody hill. It's a huge hill on the west end of the Hughes-Lankford Cemetary. The spot I always went sledding as a kid. It's a steep hill down by the railroad tracks and the small winding creek. At least one kid a winter would end up at the E.R. I couldn't help but feel an overall hatred for this Ronald guy, who was a successful web-designer somewhere outside Portland. A total fucking hipster, who I actually shared a lot in common with. I met him first when she left with him from Eureka, in his Prius. And now a second time, taking him to the hospital because his tibia had broken and was clearly sticking out of his lower leg. It was pretty gross. All the snow was stained red. A large trail of blood led to my 4runner. I made a joke and said, "well at least I'm not covered in yellow snow!" Nobody laughed and I dropped them off at the hospital. She said her mom would come to pick them up and everything was fine. I said "ok." Then, while Ronald was being led into the E.R. I grabbed her ass and kissed her on the lips. This was the last time I saw Sara. I would say there are un-resolved issues, or lingering feelings, or a mutual hope of those dreams, we once shared, becoming our reality. But I'm not writing a seriously genuine letter, on paper, to her.
I don't really know where I'm going with this yet. Honestly the story has just begun. I don't want to write it all in one post, so.....yeah. Stay tuned or express interest in hearing pt. 2 feat. Tara the prostitute and Kara, my high-school sweetheart. I know it's really long for a blog post, but I've had writers block for the past month. I had to just let it out.
Some Have a Bucket List, Seriously Hip has a Fucket List. Five Things I'll do before I Die......When I've fallen upon the, I just don't give a "Fuckets."
5. I will find myself at a major political event. I'll climb up to the top of a very high building. I'll demand things regarding political issues. Things like balance, truth, and justice for all. I'll address the core values of each party. I will say, "keep doing that, but stop doing this, come together, right now, over me." I'll demand I'm appointed the one and only member of the current Presidents Cabinet. Assuming the many positions, duties, and responsibilities that are usually given to, senior appointed officers. If I'm not granted my position in the Cabinet, a quarter share of all the oil on Mars, 1000 googol dollars, and a rocket out of this world, I'll threaten to leap to my death. Whether or not I receive my demands, I'll jump anyway. As I'm falling to my death, I'll release my parachute with my middle finger in the air screaming "Fucket." 4. I will find myself at an irrelevant Jam band Festival. Most likely in CA, TN, NY, FL, TX, AK, WA or maybe somewhere near the great lakes. I'll show up with a shock collar around my dogs neck. I'll have a remote that controls the voltage and allows me, or any random hippie that ground scored it after I lost it, to induce the pain. Every time I walk past a male or female with dreadlocks, or past someone who smells like patchouli or a skunk, I'll shock my dog. I'll tell the bongo bros to shut the "Fucket" up. I'll be sitting around the campfire at my neighbors campsite, starting deep conversations about relevant music. I'll get into an extensive argument. Boasting my superiority by listing pages worth of genres, and artists they've never heard of, and some they have. And then proceed in listing every LP, EP and single ever recorded. All studio recordings, all compilations, and all live shows. The set lists, the venues, and the versions of each song ever performed in a live setting. I'll dissect and break down the long improvised jam, into all it's relevant parts. Listing side projects, and citing every appearance on Fallon, Letterman, or any other late night show. I'll give Pitchfork ratings for each artist worthy of having one. Also, throwing in the amount of music I own, calculated in gigabytes. Then leave my campsite completely trashed and littered with ripped up peace flags and prayer flags, empty balloons and a lot of wasted nonorganic food. Leave the festival flipping off every hitch hiker with a sign reading, "Headed East," Screaming "Fucket. "Sorry Bro, Im headed West."
3. I will find myself at 3701 W. 12th st. Topeka, Kansas U.S.A. Outside the Westboro Baptist church. I'll be scantily clad. I will step out of my car, the one that's plastered with "support our troops" stickers and American flags. Once I step out of the car they will ask me, "who are you, and what are you doing here?" I will say, "I was born this way, bitchez." I will grab my high quality boom box, with volume levels that crumble buildings. I will begin playing the new Lady Gaga single, set for release on February 13th. I'll press the repeat button. Begin stripping off my skimpy clothes and proceed to dance naked on my own. All while flipping them off screaming "Fucket."
2. Take my ass to east ST. Louis. The city recently named most dangerous in the country. I'll do some hustling and sweet talking to some of my homies and girlfriends. I'll be given a chance to participate in a rap battle. I'll be wearing the most redneck get up I got, overalls, boots, hunting gear, and a cowboy hat, the whole glock nine. Next, I will sleigh, kill, crush, and destroy every mc that I battle. Leaving those tough dudes in the dirt. With their confidence shattered, dreams broken, shoulders slouched, and heads hung low. And leave, waiving my skinny white middle finger, giving a loud, I don't give a "Fucket."
1. I'll continue writing this blog, even though I only average 19.1 hits a day. I'll continue my quest for relevance in this sea of blogs. Still posting hip music, hip poetry, hip commentary (rants) on philosophy, politics, and religion. Also, still providing personal entries, and my opinions on current events and news. I vow to start writing less depressing poetry, songs, rhymes, or whatever you wanna call them. I apologize for my grammar, which will remain somewhere between the 8th and 12 grade level. I'll always be waiting for that dream, vision, or revelation that comes, that will separate me from the rest of the blogosphere, and catapult me to internet super stardom. Filling my buzzaccount with more buzzbucks than I would even know what to do with. Until then, I'll just be another, unoriginal blogger, making an ass of himself. "Fucket."
If u wear flip flops and or blue jeans.....u have a serious problem. jus say'n.....Dude.....Bro, ur breath smells like shit!
I don't chew gum, don't wear flip-flops, and I will never wear blue jeans. I'm not this bro above. Not sure if it's my subconscious or it's the fact I genuinely find jeans and flip-flops uncomfortable. The gum is something I might need to check into, considering I smoke and don't floss as much as the dentist might recommend. I thought, maybe I don't incorporate jeans and sandal thongs into my personal brand, because every other "bro schmo" does. It's all about comfortability and authenticity. Since nobody else wears dickies and closed toed sandals or shoes, I thought I'd be 'that guy.' I'm a 'man,' but I am no 'bro.' I'm a 'skater gangster,' who doesn't skate and isn't affiliated with a gang. I do snowboard really well and used to skate frequently at the local rink, but have definitely never participated in, 'gangster' like extracurriculars. I guess my point is, I'd rather look young and rebellious rather than a professional, responsible, regular ol' bro. My parents think that's plain stupid and immature. I plead with my mom to assist me in transforming my brand to a 'super prep.' In other words, asking her to buy my clothes for me, which isn't going to happen, because I'm an 'adult.' All this is pretty much irrelevant to anyone reading this. So...........seriously.......random and...........NEXT TOPIC......
I started school. Jumping head first into the spring semester of 2k11. I plan to graduate from ______ with a _______ in ________ in the fall of 2k22. When I was in my ethics class on the first day of school the teacher had us introduce ourselves. Everybody started giving their name, an explanation for why they are at the community college, and their plans for the future i.e. degree, transfer, whatever. So it came to me and without hesitation I seriously said, "Hi! Uhhhh...... my name is Joey Martino, I am just here to get back in the 'groove' of things, been out of school for about 5 years. My plan is to start an electro buzzband and put out a hip-hop album by next summer." I also went around to the common area and throughout the halls to the boards with random shit about upcoming events, groups, and stuff for sale and posted an advertisement for my blog. It says, "for the latest and greatest, relevant mp3's visit http://www.srslyhip.blogspot.com." Even though I don't "run" a music blog and really only feature a small amount of music, that is not relevant, I thought that would be the best way to advertise. I haven't seen any increase in traffic. I've actually seen a decrease which I blame on poor content.
I seriously don't watch very much t.v. I watch football and some other sports, but if you take that time out, it's probably less than an hour a week. Well, that has changed as of late. With the hit shows, Teen Mom, Jersey Shore, and Skins I have been sucked back into "the boob tube." The channel that helped raise me since my earliest memories of being home alone. I'm not going to elaborate, give any reviews or commentary regarding these shows. Or give the name or number of the channel. All I Know is that there are struggling mothers, people making asses of themselves and terrible acting and or an "actor." Below is the 'bro' that should have been cast as the lead role in the hit show, "Skins."
From silence and isolation comes a storm of thoughts a racing I quiver as I crawl into my head my wretched mind is pacing like taking a 1000 steps and only moving inches....these aching bones and cold chills sleepless nights I'm facing. Prolonging the inevitable your hell now inhibits you transferring state of mind to an unconscious perception your beautiful life is now tainted with deception. From noise comes pain that can't break the walls of seclusion only to trick the mind into a happy illusion forever injecting substance causing confusion this time I pass with apathetic dillusion I wish I could faint ending this army's intrusion. Misfits drifters outright thugs and cold blooded klllers and the death of one could mean the death of all what the fuck you gonna do when the walls start to fall everything you thought you knew starts to fade away as this realness and rawness starts to stake its claim held down by your demons and these cold steel chains strap you in the chair fry or gas your brains walk you to your death down a dark hallway now there's nothing left but this cold dead body and red blood stains.
It was 2k9, new years eve. I found myself at the bottom of a very deep hole. I stood on the fringe of society, shivering. Drenched in sadness and hopelessness. Submersed in the crowded streets of a big city. Surrounded by mobs of people and at the same time totally isolated, feeling withdrawn, disconnected, and lost. All alone in a family of winos and gutter punks. Throughout all the empty days, spent in dark alleys and cold parking garages, I do remember some kind of light or spec of hope. Sometimes it was barely flickering. Never brighter than the cherry on the end of my cigarette. The hope was always there, but for it to materialize into a thought that I could grasp, it had to take the long journey from the back of my head, where it was buried with all the other..... I'd rather forget. How did I get here? Whose blood is this?
A year has come and gone. I moved out of the big city and back to my home state. Back to the home I couldn't wait to leave. When I left and moved away I had a goal, a good reason, a purpose, to"find myself," figure life out. I wanted to get out of the conservative Christian metropolis I grew up in. I was unhappy in middle America. So I did what I always dreamed of doing. I took the typical route, headed west. The first two years I genuinely felt happy and excited about life. Then my-self found me. I had ran far away, blaming my problems on my geographical location and anybody but myself. You can only run from yourself for so long. Eventually you'll weaken and find yourself in the same old place. Only this time, your thousands of miles away from the family and support that you need when your hit with hard times. Where am I? Who are you?
Thank God for the family. The only people who are always there. Upon returning I was blessed with a place to stay and a job on my Grandpas farm. It was great. Very quiet and peaceful, out in the middle of somewhere. I didn't really know anybody, so I didn't have a social life. I got lonely at times, but always found refuge and company on the internet. I felt 'connected' when I shared music, when I commented on blogs, when I instant messaged or wally to walled. I put a lot of time and thought into each status update. Putting forth my best effort, trying to provide my so called "friends" with a glimpse into my life, the farm, the world as I see it. I soon decided I was 'over' facebook. For some reason I no longer felt comfortable expressing myself on that website. Then I started this blog and got a twitter. On the farm I had more time than ever to search for buzzbands and relevant mp3's. The worst part about the last year, was the absence of music. Luckily, once I turned myself into jail, on Valentines day, I was issued my own personal pair of headphones. Good for tuning into one of three t.v.'s or any radio station. Also good for the batteries that come inside, which are sometimes used for creating a spark when trying to smoke. I could pick up all the city stations. The mainstream rap, top 40, alt rock, oldies, all those types. That was nice. Well, as nice as it could get in jail. What have I done? What are you looking at?
I'm a worthless 20something. I'm a college dropout who's single. I have moved from the farm to my parents house in the suburbs. I bought a macbook pro with my own legitimately earned money. I learned a lot this past year. I've experienced unpleasant times that I wouldn't wish upon anybody. Everything thats happened in 2k10 and the 20something years before, has led me to who and where I am now. I'm going back to the local community college this spring. I just got a new job that's going well. I'm going to take over the world and do really nice things for all people. I'm going to "drop bombs" on em. I'm gonna start a electro music project. I'm probably going to get very rich. I'm gonna leak the secret information behind the dead birds falling from the sky. I'm planning on exposing all the corruption inside the government and every other American institution. I'm going to live the best way I know how. I'm going to value the simple things, while enjoying the finer things. The light is brighter. When did you find it? Why are you leaving?
I guess I "found myself." Sitting on this couch writing. For what?
I know I can write rhymes.
I can rap.
I can move crowds.
I'm a microphone controller.
I need a beat, gimme a beat.
I have something meaningful to say.
you just got the worst of it and all u smell is roses I walk the wrong path only time and trouble know us you sucked the heat all out my hell nearly froze us I'm exploding out these seams only somber days hopeless every saint has a past and every sinner a future no blood for a rush deep cuts we need to suture I cant touch a single day no sense gratification I will follow you out of the dark and onto this great plantation we will plant the seeds of life and build an abominable civilization I've ripped out all the weeds disinfecting this organization I'm starting this all over again this time I'm not playing
why do I want to bleed? you don't ever say please why is all I write about, starving death, pain and drowning and what I really need? why did you do it? what are you doing? this desert is deserted ruins stop bending my pages shaking my cages all that I ask is for you to control those rages if you would just quit this becomes painless colorless rainbows they shower you with gold fluorescent eyes see nothing but the colors of your soul we use it just to get to the bottom of the hole there's nothing left to clean but the snakes out of the pool it's the same thing all every single day it's wordless speech in all everything you say the ceiling is coming down taking it away no roots missing nature and the month of may romance is blooming friendly fires Gods are ruling holy choirs outlaws dueling thieves and liars subliminal fueling ignorant buyers royalty cooling naive squires from nothing comes something tires
whats really going on here where have you been? everyone is looking for you what is you did? you really fucked up back to the joint is the kid so tired of being sick and tired smoke goes the lid another day down toward an unknown future and one day closer to death we all are going to die what will you leave behind they'll only remember what you left in between the lines if I told you to hide where would you go? if I told you to run would you take it slow? you got all the people in this place wanting to know what do you now call home where will you show?
we had the whole wide world inside of our hands it took whole a lot of practice and some intricate plans we let it all go it slipped away in the sand I sold it all for free my fees didn't stand
