Thingling

All day every day I’m bumping that new Nas shit, I won’t get over it.

1. Queens Get the Money: Lions roar, pure science, street knowledge, the piano riff is some Thelonius kind of shit, the vocals are the stream of consciousness flooding your city.

2. Breathe: this track defies all categorization of genre or era of hip hop, classical contemporary futuristic.

3. Make the World Go Round: international appeal, that’s all.

4. Hero: this is an invasion, the Kanye sample, the keys, Keri Hilson’s amazing voice, play this loud from your car and don’t feel ashamed, never feel shame when you’re a hero.

5. America: again, I don’t know where the fuck this track came from, the strings and beat are so familiar but something completely new. Oh yeah, and the verses will pretty much rearrange your mind. New perspective, once upon a time in America.

6. Sly Fox: Oooooooooooooooh guitars motherfucker. Topical! “The only fox that I love was the red one, the only black man fox love is in jail or a dead one”.

7. Testify: mass unconscious recollections.

8. N.I.G.G.E.R. (Slave and the Master): about time someone said all this in four and a half minutes. Has to be heard to get the reply “word” to every single fresh rhyme, line after line.

9. Louis Farrakhan: sorry to Kanye’s sampling Daft Punk and Wale’s W.A.L.E.D.A.N.C.E., this track is 100% more french, 100% less obvious, 100% fresher, so I guess a total of 300% better, seriously, the DJ Mehdi remix of this will light the summer on fire if he ever does one. Precognition has this song starting a riot in the club.

10: Fried Chicken: motherfucking food metaphor!!!!!!!! I love fried chicken the food, and this is serious knowledge on a plate. Mister Busta Rhymes deliveres the freshest appearence in about a hundred years. Food rap song on the most mind blowing album of the year/decade/millenium!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Put that in your back pack and write it in your blog.

11. Project Roach: this proves Nas didn’t forget anything about those jazz tinged shits from Illmatic, this is the soundtrack to your next barbershop visit, the last song at the block party, a bridge between universes.

12. Black President: gotta have that 2Pac shit for sure and I mean, “change the world” is already on the tip of my tongue whenever I’m stoked. Three and some odd months before Obama takes the white house, this is the soundtrack to ballot boxes being filled, to an unconcsious mind waking up and learning to run instead of walk.

13. Be A Nigger Too: I already am.

14: Nigger Hatred: Nasir Bin Olu Dara Jones the poet.

15. War is Necessary: I would lose my shit if I ever saw this performed, or even in a club, I don’t think I’d make fun of people so much as I’d react physically to any negative vibrations directed at me, like twins bros in muscle shirts and bandanas, Ellen Page lookalikes, and anyone in flip flops.

16: Middle Finger: just shy of three minutes, reminds me of NWA and Discharge. Closes the album, and David Banner helps it along, props to him for appearing on two favorite albums of the summer.

How does one explain the mountain of genius that is the new Nas record, titled uh, Untitled, or Nas, or Nigger (if you prefer, and I do). It is the most intellectually sound hip hop recording ever, it makes more sense than anything I’ve ever heard, lacks contradiction and posturing, and it’s better than Illmatic and I’m not afraid to say it. None of the guest appearances sound contrived, and I must stress that Make the World Go Round, the track with Chris Brown, is fucking tight. I cannot give enough credit to Nasir Jones for making music that I want to listen to and understand different sides of the sounds with each play. If there is good advice to be given, listen to the record.

Anticipation directed in the general direction of:

- new TI record, it’s not coming out till september, but I mean, cop some mixtape, Swing Your Rag is the anthem.

- new Primal Scream!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (hope there’s no mandolin or eukalele)

- Generation Kill, bout it, bout it.

If I was going to hypothesize on irrelevant matters of organized faiths it would read like this:

Masons run this city, sorry all devout Oranges or Catholics (Oranges is what I call Proties, because well, Protie isn’t very nice). Scientologists pretty much lost a psychic war and got themselves relegated to the rest of Vancouver island where Dianetics maybe works at fleecing old folks, but not here. The Jews don’t run much here but get much love of course, I was born and raised at the Cinegog and Pagliachi’s, and for sure that Temple is fucking old and cool, but I’m sure a gentile flavor and perhaps an unspoken bond with the Masons and Baptists could explain it all. Oh, those Eckankar folks are active gardeners but who’s got the dough to donate, not me. my green is free.

English resort town built on Indian burial ground.

The new Wal-Mart is going to be a trip dog.

To pass the hours I’ve downloaded 2GB of Prince music, including the hard to find “Black Album”.

Watched Rolland Emmerich’s 10,000 BC, it could have been a thousand times sexier, it could have made sense.

On nights I don’t read my dreams are filled with familiar faces of friends and acquantances.

Touch the overcast clouds.

All night I bump that new Nas record, I don’t listen to anything else except the occasional Roxy Music song. Haven’t exactly shared the experience with anyone, there’s really only two people in this city who I think could be stoked, and one’s actually a total hater, so yeah, one person is getting a burned copy of it tonight or tomorrow. If there is a more perfect record out there I’m hard pressed to name it, no skits, no bullshit, very few guests, and a fucking mountain of knowledge being dropped every four bars, if I had twin sons they would be named Nasir and Jones, if I had one kid I’d like to name it Hoody, regardless of gender. Right fucking now I’m listening to it, oh yeah, if Peter was here and not in Korea teaching little kids to swear then he’d be stoked too.

Today: take a nap then try and head to either a lake or the ocean for sun and more sun. At some point shoe shopping but that is COMPLICATED in this shitty city (my style is getting reactionary, not a direction I really want to head in).

Dear long haired hooligans, I miss being part of the ranks, not exactly sure where I stand with this short hair, (well I stand in the sun because my head isn’t super hot).

No hammock screws.

Doing it with a gold pinky ring.

Pretty sure this song would suck live, but it is stuck in my head lately

Based on title I can really get into this, and apparently Steven Seagal (yeah, that one) does a mean cover

I just discovered this video for a song I’ve loved for ten years

Summer cold or some illness, can’t swallow, coughing, sinusitus, and lost balance.

In bed a lot, or reclined on the sofa.

Donnie Darko, Il Deserto Rosso, Solaris, and the Illusionist.

The Man In the High Castle.

Captain America.

New Nas.

Yeah, this:

The mountains of ignored advice and the presumption that the sun is my best friend are getting higher, like a motherfucking pelican. I don’t know what got into me but it was next to a lake under a tree on some rocks that were warm. Fucked an eye-ball, fiending forever and ever. Detached and ready.

Losing attention, lost patience, looking for forgiving times to take a breath.

Alcoholics bore me, so does the average sleeper, everyone.

Crushed a mystic spirit, cut off hair.

The lucid nightmares can continue, I’m learning a new navigation method, basically nothing is scarier than an image in a box, it’s just a little supercharged by the subconscious and the dry mouth.

Climbing glass.

You rock my eternity.

Not all wasted time is of equal value, but a body can try. It is without expectation or anticipation that a gentle glide can be called living.

On PKD: not only has my brain been tampered with by some external forces since I last read his work, but I’ve also spent enough time reading wikipedia entries about him and his works to be very interested in the book on hold I picked up today. Without a doubt, my mind will get fucked by one volume containing four novels written in the 1960s.

Tomorrow: my hair will get cut off, it will be four to eight centimeters long, the weird brown color it is will turn much lighter through exposure to ultraviolet light. Mixed emotion, you take about things that nobody dares.

Had a cinema experience tonight: Wanted. I cannot be critical.