Thursday, February 22, 2007

Where Do Breaking Hearts Go?

For Dee (Magoo said it so well, my heart bleeds), JR, Undo, and to you reading this wherever you maybe and whoever you maybe and can relate.

"So you wanna be hardcore
With your hat to the back, talkin bout the gats in your raps
But I can't feel that hardcore appeal
that you're screamin, baby I'm dreamin
This ain't Christopher Williams, still some
MC's got to feel one, caps I got to peel some
To let niggaz know... that if you fuck with Big-and-Heavy
I get up in that ass like a wedgie
Says who? Says me, the lyrical
Niggaz sayin, "Biggie off the street, it's a miracle."

Machine Gun Funk, Biggie Smalls

So you like the blues, Son, …

“..... ...Yet watching Creole’s face as they neared the end of the first set, I had a feeling that something had happened, something I hadn’t heard. Then they finished, there was scattered applause, and then, without an instant’s notice, Creole started into something else, it was almost sardonic, it was Am I Blue. And, as though he commanded, Sonny began to play. Something began to happen. And Creole begun to let out the reins. The dry, low, black man said something awful on the drums, Creole answered, and the drums talked back. Then the horn insisted, sweet and high, slightly detached perhaps, and the Creole listened, commenting now and then, dry, and driving, beautiful and calm and old. Then they all came together again, and Sonny was part of the family again. I could tell from his face. He seemed to have found, right beneath his fingers, a damn brand new piano. It seemed that he couldn’t get over it. Then, for a while, just being happy with Sonny, they seemed to be agreeing with him that brand new pianos were certainly a gas.

Then Creole stepped forward to remind them that what they were playing were the blues. He hit something in all of them, he hit something in me, myself, and the music tightened and deepened, apprehension began to beat the air. Creole began to tell us what the blues were all about. They were not about anything very new. He and the boys up there were keeping it new, at the risk of ruin, destruction, madness, and death, in order to find new ways to make us listen. For, while the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted, and how we triumph is never new, it always must be heard. There isn’t any other tale to tell, it’s the only light we’ve got in all this darkness.

And this tale, according to that face, that body, those strong hands on those strings, has another aspect in every country, and a new depth in every generation. Listen, Creole seemed to be saying, listen. Now these are Sonny’s blues. He made the little black man on the drums know it, and the bright, brown man on the horn. Creole wasn’t trying any longer to get Sonny in the water. He was wishing him Godspeed. Then he stepped back, very slowly, filling the air with immense suggestion that Sonny speak for himself.

Then they all gathered around Sonny and Sonny played. Every now and again one of them seemed to say, amen. Sonny’s fingers filled the air with life, his life. But that life contained so many others. And Sonny went all the way back, he really began with the spare, flat statement of the opening phrase of the song. Then he began to make it his. It was very beautiful because it wasn’t hurried and it was no longer a lament. I seemed to hear with what burning he had made it his, with what burning we had yet to make it ours, and how we could cease lamenting. Freedom lurked around us and I understood at last, that he could help us to be free if we would listen, that he would never be free until we did. Yet, there was no battle in his face now, I heard what he had gone through, and would continue to go through until he came to rest in earth. He had made it his; that long line, of which we knew only Mama and Daddy. And he was giving it back, as everything must be given back, so that, passing through death, it can live forever. I saw my mother’s face again, and felt, for the first time, how the stones of the road she had walked on must have bruised her feet. I saw the moonlit road where my father’s brother died. And it brought something else back to me, and carried me past it, I saw my little girl again and Isabel’s tears again, and I felt my own tears begin to rise. And I was yet aware that this only a moment…”

Sonny’s Blue’s by JAMES BALDWIN

"Love was a terrible thing. You poisoned it and stabbed at it and knocked it down in the mud—well down—and it got up and staggered on, bleeding and muddy and awful. Like--- like Rasputin."

Jean Rhys, Quartet

Friday, February 16, 2007

Just Another Day

Spot the blogger, this is not just a ball game.

I couldn’t Sleep so I flowed.

What’s Ernest’s secret shame?

No Serugo answers here or Garuga deals here!

Sometimes watching all of you back here I don’t know what I’m going to write before I begin. Really. Am I going to quit today or am I going to go on because it’s just another Queen Latifahless day on and on about something that has been just below the surface of my mind like the peerless eels I used to see gliding in village streams dancing to be hooked and grilled by wise country boys? Do I tell you I got back with my ex, I started drinking again or would you take that as just sensational? Another just being me day madandcrazy? Not everything is what it seems, listen!

That guy was right Cheri, only geeks’ blog and it don’t matter the brand name on your jeans. Roca-wear doesn’t count because Jay-Z’s a geek too. Inktus was right, geeks are cool. In their own minds though! Welcome to the club LA though you put on a new coat. I did not know The Game’s life was so violent before the fame. This must be what 2Pac meant when he quipped that before he cut a record he did not have a police record, only the other way round here! My 2pac year is supposed to be over and I used to think the coolest ancient author around was Geoffrey Chaucer before I began reading the assembled best of compilations of Villon’s life before a tattered Brian copy showed me Mbella Sonne Dipoko. And I’m wondering. How many of you have figured out who Mataachi is? I used to think I had. But now I don’t know.

I have been trying to get in touch with Barbara Kimenye for a revisit of Kalasanda before I go to Kalasanda Revisited. I still think The People’s Bachelor by Austin Bukenya is the best ever Ugandan novel written so far. Not that it will always remain that way. My only dread is that a Faculty of Arts stairs sitting reminiscence by the great Ngugi could come true visiting Makerere University for the first time in almost 30 years that the best writer he had ever met, when he was young and the greatness of his short stories was only in his own mind, never wrote again after they left college, drifting for love into a profession and foregoing a passion.

Was N.W.A that great, inform me Baz because I’m supposed to be blogging about you in young Ugandans to Watch but I just couldn’t because I knew your surprising modesty would wilt like many roadside daisies are doing in these highway days when the sun shines more in the year than it ever rains. I can’t believe Scotchbiscuits did not win something in the first blogger awards because she is one of the essential blogs in my everyday menu, fortnightly fulfilling me. You asked what did I use to surf on the net about before this blogging obsession begun and while I know, it’s like asking Abba-style what life was like the day before you came, before the loved one came, the one.

The unfairness of it all is like the 2006 PAM Awards where General Mega Dee did not win anything because Iryn Namubiru and a bunch of other people were brilliant in the same flowering. The Kanye West-Jaime Foxx year that produced Golddigga with Collateral Damage going to Troy. You think I have no Kampala example? The Necessary Noize-Juliana Kanyomozi year when Blu*3 didn’t matter but I dare you to ignore BURRN 2007! Magoo thank you for quoting, “He’s got that ambition baby, look at his eyes. Stick by his side.” You’re one of my faves, even if you left the Savagery behind at least you stayed around because Yuda unlike Luda abandoned me in a way worse than Jay did. I don’t even want to start on Eclectic, I’m still trying to get over that and it feels like it’s been more than a year and she’s never coming back, she’s happy. Why do they always do this to me? The Brooklyn Babe gave no warning either and I thought Brooklyn knights came from there! At least I still have my morning meringue, I always think of oranges when it’s my lingering morning Minega!

My Sunday rest is not entirely gone but how can I undo the whole of last year when part of it was my fault? Every year since I took control of my life has been so different that even if Keitetsi platinum burst through with an honesty that she did not fully comprehend, there were the room huddled thinking Kenyans before I discovered the sassy ones and then the Ugandan version came along and I don’t know why I needed a BlackBelt figure to figure this out while one of the most original post names and constant obsessions Degstar fell in love. FELL IN LOVE, fuck! I almost did not see the loveliness of the frog turning prince until it was almost too late. But before Kabamba comes on, there’s always the 27th comrade, the one name recognized to restore courage, to keep you doing it. There’s no need for silence here, we’re not lone wolf Congolese Kate! I was wrong, now I know. Only Undo would believe me if I said this is maybe my last post here because he’s done it in his own life and we have decided crucial life issues in a hostel hostile to chick noise on the toss of a 200 shilling coin and we were not looking at the fish because she does not eat fish. That’s because we are often deaf and nobody believes the guy singing the true beef song, or Jinkeese until the bitter sweet mint of life is on your tongue. This efflorescence is beyond belief! Do you ever look in the mirror, vain vanity aside, and say bannage! I know people who do.

Everyone who knows my amateur collecting of Hip Hop thinks I’m 2Pac obsessed, but that’s because I dare not talk about the sneaky one just as rich nearly like Biggie eternal bachelor the anonymity given up. I said in a faculties in galaxy control that Michael Jackson is one of 3 kings and I wasn’t being biblical although yeah snicker my Bible is under my pillow under my bed because I have a bedside lamp table and Dirty Diana is not in bed with me despite the threatening canes, Modo aside, I stay up all night like an Askari. Pea, the illest, well, the illest is like how the taciturn Austin Bukenya said in The People’s Bachelor:

“This is heroism. Not the throwing of the grenade or the pulling of the trigger, but the physical inactivity of the waiting. And the examples of freedom fighters are perhaps unnecessary extremes. Any case of keeping still would do; from the second wife who sits listening to her husband making love to her co-wife in the next room, the budding writer who checks his pen, despite a feeling of certainty that a new idea has blossomed in his mind, to the village shopkeeper who, outside the coffee and cotton seasons, may not get a customer for six hours on end, to the young graduate who stands thirty minutes at an office reception desk before the standard seven girl behind it before she even asks him what she can do for him. If any of these characters chooses to remain still, arrest all physical activity and concentrate on himself or herself, that character maybe crowned a hero or heroine.”

Baby, flow! Some More.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Something Magical Happened

It does not happen often that the guys over at IMDB agree all the way about a movie. But once in a while it happens because every once in a while, Hollywood delivers a movie so beautiful, so well intentioned, so against all the odds with the least expected comeback by a supposedly long washed out performer in the starring role that even the guys at IMDB are yanked out of their jaded nonchalance and clap, whistle and in the case of Rocky even shade a tear.

Yes, I watched Rocky Balboa last night and part of my treat tonight is a re-screening of this classic forming before our eyes. This raised gloves in salute to an era and an always woefully underappreciated icon Sylvester Stallone. It’s not just hats off gentlemen, its hearts out. The best comments so far on the phenomenon that is Rocky Balboa:

by marrio415 (Wed Jan 17 2007 05:15:54 )
for most of the movie i had to hold back even when he is shopping in the food markets just seein rocky back on the big screen words just can't explain he is an insperation a hero to the common man well all men if you ask me.This film had more heart than the top 100 movies of 2006 and probably 2007 to(with the exception of pursuit of happiness that to is an awesome movie)Also the t idiots who said why are people crying hey you guys probably cried when darth vadar died in guys need to get a life and start appreciating real movies not special effects driven dribble.ROCKY BALBOA movie of 2006 and 2007

by joe-1127 (Thu Jan 18 2007 13:31:39 )
I got misty eyed a few times especially when the main track is played!
The end credits are brilliant and just show how well loved Rocky is even to this day and can still inspire people to make something better of themselves.

by ashokatw (Thu Jan 18 2007 19:36:20 )
I totally teared up, it's true. Damn, what a surprisingly touching movie. Yeah, it was shamelessly manipulative, but I was moved even though I recognized what it was doing.

I might actually buy it when it comes out. It was really heartfelt.

It's pretty much the guy equivalent to chick-flicks. I was totally wrong for ever doubting this movie.

Tears were rolling down my cheeks as the crowd at the fight went wild after the final round. Rocky didn't even care about the judges' decision. He knew he'd won in the most important way possible. I guess it was a central message in the shouldn't care about what others think of you, only what you think of yourself. Self respect is the only respect that's worth a damn.

by ryjoco (Sat Jan 20 2007 14:20:33 )
I cried on multiple occassions, as have been mentioned.

Paulie: "Rock, this is the last round of your life."

You realised then that after this, you'd never see Rocky again. Also when he turned and waved at the grave the same feeling hit and that was a killer.

by thesparkyrowe (Sat Jan 20 2007 17:04:55 )
All the way thru, every line, every scene, every shot got me. And y'know what i don't care i don't feel any less of a man. It was like waving goodbye to places and people that had been in your subconcious since you were a kid. God bless Stallone for just writing from his stupid old clumsy heart rather than his head. He wrote it for the fans, not the critics and thats so rare these days. Anyway i'm going out to buy some more tissues, its been 32 hours, why won't it stop ???!!!???

by mjscarface (Sat Jan 20 2007 17:26:22 )
I got misty when Paulie broke down at the ice rink and when Rocky says how "it wasn't supposed to be like this Paulie".

At first, the idea of Adrian's death felt like a lazy plot device but when the film gets going we see how Rocky feels just as cheated as we do - especially when Rocky I and II are so centered on the love story and now it's all fallen to pieces.

The most downbeat Rocky but the most inspirational since the original.

by lockett_4 (Wed Jan 24 2007 03:03:49 )
I cried at the end. Saying goodbye to a guy who's been a hero for me was tough.
This movie definately showed that Stallone still as it.

by patrick-bateman (Thu Jan 25 2007 09:34:05 )

UPDATED Thu Jan 25 2007 09:35:32
I cried a few times....But the one that really suprised me, and made me thankful I was watching the perfect dvd pirate that is floating around,was after the film ends and the credits start to roll...It shows scores of 'normal' people climbing the steps in Philly and doing 'Rocky' style celebrations at the top. Dunno why this got to me as much as it did...Maybe I felt for the impact that this movie has had on it's fans..

I really hope I get to run up those steps one day..I can guarantee I will Gonna Fly Now on my mp3 player if I ever do.

Speaking of which...maybe the original poster should change the name of this thread to ..."Gonna Cry Now"


"Excuse me, flows just grow through me
Like trees to branches
Cliffs to avalanches
It's the praying mantis
Deep like the mind of farrakhan
A motherfuckin rap phenomenon, plus

[i got more glocks and techs than you]
I make it hot [nigga wont even stand next to you]
Nigga touch me you better bust me
Tree times in the head
Or motherfuckers dead, ya thought so.."
The What

Priceless Undo thankyou(!) Livin' tha Life by Biggie!

Tuesday, February 13, 2007