Indie Hip-hop Fusion

When: Last night
Where: The Atlantic
Who: D.P.
What: Played a show
Why:

Why? Yes, that is the crux of the matter: why do musicians play? Why do painters paint and actresses stamp and scream around stages world over? I write, not because I think I should, but because I know I must. Without writing out these words and feelings, inane and self-indulgent as they may be, I would go insane with the pressure of the mass on my mind.

I'm not sure why D.P.'s brand of hip-hop (he calls it indie-hip-hop fusion) appeals to me so much more than the typical Detroit street forms, but it does. Maybe it's the 90's beats and songs he fuses his lyrics with, maybe it's his personality, or maybe it's that his lyrics deal with more than just sex and drugs.

It was a good show, I enjoyed it, the beer, and the company and contrived to have a good time despite the traffic and all its evil machinations.

real time with bill maher

I do love this show: he has real Republicans and real Democrats and he mixes it up and makes sure there are real arguments with honest beliefs on each side. If only real news shows could do the same.

I love his opinion on Obama - every time he tries to tackle a huge social reform there is a huge party standing in his way: the Democrats. "Democrats have moved to the right, and the right has moved into a mental hospital."

These are things my parents have been saying for years, and I, fairly untutored in politics, regarded their comments with faint skepticism until I began to see patterns in the newspaper articles.

I have an odd collection of beliefs:
I support abortion, but mostly because I fear what would happen to women, young and old, across the country if we lost the right to control our own bodies. There are babies out there - lots of them - who are better off not being born, especially those with physical conditions that would lead to miserable lives.

I do not support the death penalty, because a) people make mistakes, especially the police, b) I think people suffer much more in prison than they do in death and c)it wastes so much court time taking someone to death row. Lawyers should be focusing on things other than appeal after appeal, there are plenty of criminals to go around.

I don't think socialism is so bad in a diluted form, but I also don't think anything is good a purist form. What's so bad about a capitalist economy with a revised Social Security and universal healthcare? Make stuff like breast implants be entirely private, there'll be plenty of money for the HMOs and the hospitals that way.

I don't see what's wrong with drugs being legalized as long as incredibly stringent regulations are in place against driving or operating any sort of dangerous machinery while under the influence. Let people kill themselves, there are too many on the planet anyway.

I also don't believe that the government should hand out ANY marriage licenses at all - marriage is a RELIGIOUS contract, not a legal one. Let's let all citizens get full-rights civil unions from the government to protect inheritance, health-care decisions, etc etc. And then get separate marriage licenses from their respective religious institutions, who have every right to be as nasty and selective as they please. Orthodox Jews have been doing this since America was founded, I don't see why everyone else can't.

Oh, and I don't see that cutting down on pollution is so bad either. Suck it, GM, nobody likes your gas-guzzlers anyway.

Enough political ranting, I am finally finished with my awful PR class and I get to spend a week in Orlando relaxing!

Cheers!

little flickers of feeling

As I was driving today I was listening to the radio and as I passed a motorcycle with a helmetless and sexy brunette I had a sudden flashback to that hopeful enthusiasm that characterized my approach to men in high school; the idea that someday even someone as overweight and acne-ridden as myself could find happiness with a curly-haired daredevil in board shorts.

I don't know quite what I feel anymore about men and my idea of a (perfect?) future with them, despite weight loss and clearer skin, but I'm sure I'll figure it out one day.

There is a tall, dark, handsome man in my life already, but he has chosen his career over love, and I will be the last person on earth to blame him for that. It's still nice to sit with him, watching tv and movies, talking about our favorite football teams and our dreams for the future.

Even if we end up as nothing more than friends or a sweet memory, every relationship - formal or otherwise - gives you a little bit more to draw on the next time a cutie smiles at you from across the room.

a pale gray

Even though it is Florida and all our license plates read "The Sunshine State" there has been excessive amount of gray and wind this summer. As I look outside the sky is covered with pale, unenthusiastic clouds. No rain yet, but I hear that the campus was drenched earlier this afternoon.

My interpersonal relationships are interestingly varied stages; beginning, increasing intensity, decreasing intensity, foundering, degeneration into complete and utter entropy. I compare and contrast them with amusement, but everything fades as the sun sets and the beers pop and fizz.

I hear the thunder rumbling, and wish life had such warning signs to tell us when Death comes riding in on his pale horse; when Chaos slinks up and prepares to knock on our doors; when Disaster eyes the sturdy pillars that support us with a gleaming and covetous eye.

My chores are calling, I'll end here.

it was hot

Test tomorrow; two questions on the review left undone. I check the board periodically to see if any of my classmates could answer them, but none have.

I was laying out again after class today, and my face is now bright red on one side and faintly pink on the other. I really have to remember to put sunblock on, even when it's cloudy.

Lazing around in the pool is lovely, but knowing I have a test the next day completely kills the mood.

a worthwhile summer

What makes a season worthwhile? What constitutes a good summer's work?

One friend is off in Europe, touring Paris, Amsterdam, Brussels, taking classes and wining and dining beautiful women.
One friend is busy with an internship, getting career experience and money in one fell swoop.
One friend is home in Miami, enjoying her childhood friends and prepping for her last year of undergrad.
Two friends are in South Florida, partying it up every day and every night.
Two friends are on a cross-country road trips with their guitars.

And I? I am taking two classes, desperately clinging to the unraveling threads of my social life, and failing miserably at finding a job.
I sit at home, when class is done and my books are closed, with the television on and my unfinished manuscripts open, begging for completion. But I cannot write the way I want to, each word is forced from my fingertips and my prose becomes ever more stilted and untrue.

What can I do to make my summer feel alive? When my friends return from the ends of the earth, what will I have to say to them? Their stories of the grandeur of Europe and the brash freedom of the American road...and mine of studies and Saturday night mojitos?

the trees are full of starlight

Once upon a time, there was a night full of starlight and the wind whistled through the trees in a lonely song about the beginning of time, a time before the first hearts were joined together. I walked along the water, tempted to dabble my hand in the reflected stars, to see if I could pick up a star for just one second.

I stood there, wind ruffling my hair, and felt that strange essence of nature that makes you realize that all is connected, from the breezes that caress you to the earth that holds you up and the sky that offers you a place to climb. I looked around me and saw only trees and stars and water and felt the connectedness and still felt immeasurably alone. I could reach into tomorrow and still not find my amaranth, so reticent is she.

I walked home and took down some books I haven't opened in over a year, fingers tracing staffs and clefs and hundreds, millions of notes. My apartment was dark and empty but as I sang my troubles away it opened up and warmed to me. Long-forgotten memories and words wove themselves into glittering patterns in the air, and for an hour I felt the connectedness and the notes pressed around me so that I was no longer alone.

When I grew weary and put the books away, I lay still with the window open so I could hear the winds singing to me. The notes I had made stole away and I was alone again, but their memory comforted me even as the wind died and I was left to myself and the silence of the stars.

I fell asleep with tears staining my pillow, window shuttered against the world. I woke when the sky was on fire, and pushed myself forward into a new day.

it's amazing

Ever tried to shoot the 3-ball into the corner pocket when the cue ball is skulking five feet away near the side of the table? I did last night and smashed my right thumb in the process. This morning I woke up and it was so stiff and red I was convinced it was broken, but rolled over and went to sleep again...woke up five hours later and amazingly it's now flexible and less painful!
The moral: sleep away the day and the doctor stays away!

Severe thunder storms are predicted for the area so I've been wandering around listlessly all day inside the apartment. It isn't a prosy day, but rather a one of restless pagan whispers that catch you and drop you, leaving you staring at a blank screen and the blinking cursor.

Who knows what tonight holds. Hopefully, less pain and humiliation than last night.

Summer Daze

Days pass and I fail to write in the dizzying round of class, homework and sunshine. In the infrequent half-hours I permit myself to lie by the pool I feel guilty, but the relaxation it affords me is well worth it.

My new roommates are fun and keep the apartment alive with music and laughter, but they leave in August, and I'm starting to look forward to the fall with trepidation. I really hope that my last year of undergrad sees me with fun - or at least decent - roommates.

My one class is tiring me out. The constant reading makes me unwilling to read for pleasure, and less inspired to write here or anywhere else. I can't wait for this half of summer to end, and the second half to begin. Egyptology should be so much more fun than public relations. Less theory can only be a good thing!

Studying for the GRE has completely petered out after I took it the first time, but my score of 1220 isn't half good enough and I need to start studying again, retake it, and get a good enough score to get me into a good grad school.

Test tomorrow, studying calls.