Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Other Verses The Self

So my friend Vulkan Cydeburner and I have this little project. It's something that I've been thinking about for a while and it's a way for me to get on stage and kinda mic what I like. See what I did there? Anyway so we had our first performance this past weekend. It was a lot of fun. It had been over two years since I had stepped on stage and the crowd seemed rather receptive of the project (I must admit I did have a bit of a rent a crowd situation going). I send huge love to all my friends who decided to pull through, whether you truly enjoyed it or not is irrelevant, but the fact that you were there to show support means to you like me, you really really like me! Anyway the performance wasn't bad for a first try. I mean we weren't as tight as what we'd have liked to be and that just comes down to rehearsal. Also the concept wasn't able to take on its full shape because of the little rehearsal time, so it's still going to transform, be a lot more experimental and the improvisational style will stay. The lovely miss Caitlin Hill was kind enough to record the debut and experiment at the Mahala event: Debuts and Experiments held at the Assembly. It was also Roger Young's farewell party as he has decided to hand in his final and official resignation from the internet mag. Things won't be the same without his imposing figure. Roger taught me to stop pussying out when writing and has been very supportive with this whole Misteaken blog thing. He also took me snorkelling with him out in Simon's town once where watched black children, who were unable to swim being tossed into the ocean and told to use the whites around them as flotation devices. Yes Rog was one of the flotation devices. We also got to kick it on an arms deal boat which was sweet and got mad food and shit. So he really is a cool guy.Rog thanks for the so much that I should thank you for.

So back to Saturday what's to be said we had a ton of fun. I rarely ever get to get drunk with Jake and we did. We partied with a Hipster version of Donomic, Eitan once again showed us his high standard of women that he finds aesthetically appealing. Thandi and Jason were being pink as fuck as usual. D was wallacing all night long. Fuzzy's the village drunk. Edward's the village jester. Rob father has adopted Caitlin and I and still licks my face to show his affection, Nozipho is queen of the whites. And the greatest legends of all Banesa and Kyla, who left a festival to watch our show! Like we didn't have pressure before. But you guys are a motherfucking mazing for pulling through seriously! So enough with the pink here are the two video's taken by Caitlin, I haven't watched them so... like... yeah.





Tuesday, March 27, 2012

All My Friends Are Dickheads with Jelly-Fish Lips!

So I've got Magenta back in my life and I've always been in favour of her Film Grain art feature. The past few weeks and weekends have been interesting. The title speaks for itself. Uhm... Yeah we have a few inside jokes, so what?















Friday, March 23, 2012

Hunter Tells It Like It Is


Vancouver Sun
TO JACK SCOTT, VANCOUVER SUN
October 1, 1958 57 Perry Street New York City
Sir,
I got a hell of a kick reading the piece Time magazine did this week on The Sun. In addition to wishing you the best of luck, I'd also like to offer my services.
Since I haven't seen a copy of the "new" Sun yet, I'll have to make this a tentative offer. I stepped into a dung-hole the last time I took a job with a paper I didn't know anything about (see enclosed clippings) and I'm not quite ready to go charging up another blind alley.
By the time you get this letter, I'll have gotten hold of some of the recent issues of The Sun. Unless it looks totally worthless, I'll let my offer stand. And don't think that my arrogance is unintentional: it's just that I'd rather offend you now than after I started working for you.
I didn't make myself clear to the last man I worked for until after I took the job. It was as if the Marquis de Sade had suddenly found himself working for Billy Graham. The man despised me, of course, and I had nothing but contempt for him and everything he stood for. If you asked him, he'd tell you that I'm "not very likable, (that I) hate people, (that I) just want to be left alone, and (that I) feel too superior to mingle with the average person." (That's a direct quote from a memo he sent to the publisher.)
Nothing beats having good references.
Of course if you asked some of the other people I've worked for, you'd get a different set of answers.
If you're interested enough to answer this letter, I'll be glad to furnish you with a list of references -- including the lad I work for now.
The enclosed clippings should give you a rough idea of who I am. It's a year old, however, and I've changed a bit since it was written. I've taken some writing courses from Columbia in my spare time, learned a hell of a lot about the newspaper business, and developed a healthy contempt for journalism as a profession.
As far as I'm concerned, it's a damned shame that a field as potentially dynamic and vital as journalism should be overrun with dullards, bums, and hacks, hag-ridden with myopia, apathy, and complacence, and generally stuck in a bog of stagnant mediocrity. If this is what you're trying to get The Sun away from, then I think I'd like to work for you.
Most of my experience has been in sports writing, but I can write everything from warmongering propaganda to learned book reviews.
I can work 25 hours a day if necessary, live on any reasonable salary, and don't give a black damn for job security, office politics, or adverse public relations.
I would rather be on the dole than work for a paper I was ashamed of.
It's a long way from here to British Columbia, but I think I'd enjoy the trip.
If you think you can use me, drop me a line.
If not, good luck anyway.
Sincerely, Hunter S. Thompson

Facebook Chat



  • 22 hours ago
    Zukiswa Pikoli
    • hayi ee ee
    • i guess u can't win em all

  • 22 hours ago
    Phumlani Pikoli
    • the point is that you're not supposed to win.

  • 22 hours ago
    Zukiswa Pikoli
    • correct
    • neither should you be on the dimmissive defensive!

  • 22 hours ago
    Phumlani Pikoli
    • you read me like a poem

  • 22 hours ago
    Zukiswa Pikoli
    • together we make the beautiful words no1 wants to read

  • 22 hours ago
    Phumlani Pikoli
    • and that's why third world literature can never be canonised

  • 22 hours ago
    Zukiswa Pikoli
    • then we wouldnt be 3rd world- what fun would that be for the bastards?!

  • 22 hours ago
    Phumlani Pikoli
    • we'd just be ungrateful

  • 22 hours ago
    Zukiswa Pikoli
    • we already are ungrateful

Friday, March 2, 2012

Redman runs shit


I think one of the greatest feelings to have in my young adult life is rediscovering something I thought I knew well. Growing up I always knew that I was bigger Redman fan than I was of Method. It was probably the fact thefirst ever C.D cover of his I saw was a cartoon caricature of him. Or maybe it was him spraying cereal all over some kids in I'll Be Dat? Perhaps it was the fact that all his vidi hoes would bail in the course of the video and no one would help them. Either way I always favoured Red over Meth. He just seemed like the crustier and just had more of an all round I truly do not give a fuck attitude. Johnny Blaze though  is still one of the dopest rappers ever to touch the mic with an unfuckable flow.

Yesterday reminded why I was always a bigger Reggie Noble fan. It was a track we all had an obsession with when it dropped. Right off of Blackout Y.O.U. I mean I've listened to the joint so many times I'd thought I had it down and still allowed myself to give it to Hot Nicks even though their relay is run pretty tight. Thank you headphone's! Sweet  Jesus! Doc's run on lines, carry through rhyme scheme and content is not to be fucked with on this joint. While Meth is still smooth with his flow, the lyrical content pales in comparison to Red's.

Meth first Verse: Traces of lipstick on my collar
Baby you got to do some more to get this last dollar
Hotter than lava when you come believe that I'ma follow
Lady Madonna like the dick but she don't like to swallow
Rockin' that product, honey stay up in the beauty-polla'
Girl it would be my honour, make you my babymomma
Holler she hella proper, fuck with tha dumbin' cousin
Sucka for lovin'-buggin', shockin' them duckin' buckin'
Suckin' then finga-fuckin', then let me show you somethin'
I'll knock that stuffin' off that English muffin
Can't tell me nuthin', uhn uhn
Pushin' yo' panic button in when I'm stuckin'
All of a sudden, baby gun-duckin', BBC! Oh girl you nasty

Dope as fuck no doubt. There but his story gets lost in comparison to Red’s check this motherfucker rock his shit.

Yo' I get it on poppin'
Doc, unlockin' yo' doors, clockin' my drawers
Suckin' your mouth with a torn stockin'
Rapped around ya noggin, I'm creepin' when you parkin'
Shoot out the lights, darkening the erea, then hop in
Pick up my bigga nigga who helped me figured the plottin'
Droppin' the tops, splittin' the dough
Shoppin' in rotten--New York, birds flockin'
Because I'm heavy like Bo stockin' coat
Watch ya coat from Fo sparkin', they leave the parking
Niggaz unforgetable can be forgotten
Doc and Meth album enterin' the top ten!
Choppin' it raw, lockin' 'n blockin',
Only raw choppin' his metaphores, so cops can stop watchin'
I put 'em in and cock 'em, ready to rock 'em stock 'em
Renevate your appartment, when these two things barkin'
My Mackamichi knockin', bougie hoes be spottin' on they tampons
I get 'em dripplin like Leaky faucets
How he works the story of jacking motherfuckers to big upping his homey who helped him finger out the job to balling the cash and getting girls then workin in how they was gone and that the album is back in the charts. That shit had me twisted rewinding it over and over on the toilet seat and listening to it again. My brain would’ve melted had I figured that shit out as a young thunder thirsty.

But the joint itself has even more to it. The two are basically in competition with each other and show it in the chorus. Hollering at each other :
Now who a bitch nigga?!
(Now who a snitch nigga?!)
Now who the shit nigga?!
(Now who the sick nigga?!)
Now who you with nigga?!
(With who you with nigga?!)
Who rock shit nigga?!
(Who pop shit nigga?!)

It’s the kinda encouraging competition that makes motherfuckers wanna go harder. You can hear it in the adlibs, them encouraging each other cause of the flows and the fact that their playing a relay, and if that doesn’t satisfy the thought the Come on’s put the notion to rest. Anybody who’s played sport or at least has a competitive bone in their body and has been in a team will get it.  Anyway I just had to put that out there, now go on about your day.After the song Obviously.