Polite Rebellion

it caught my attention at first because the name reminds me of Yoshimitsu

I finished Blink a few months ago. I recommend. I'm currently finishing The Tipping Point. I recommend.

I am moved.

I'm not sure if I've ever said this but, I'm not really into fashion. It's cool but it changes depending on someone or some people's whimsy it seems. What's fashionable changes. Design though, good design does not change. It is fundamental to all creation.


Martin the Tailor from Ed David on Vimeo.

The message you are about to hear to does not represent to the views or beliefs of this blog. That being said, "HAAAaaahahahhaaaahahaaa".......wow


Vlogga Like Puff from jeff on Vimeo.

post it. But I just couldn't do it. I don't want to be involved with spreading something so........

Origami In the Pursuit of Perfection from MABONA ORIGAMI on Vimeo.

So i had an iDea.
...and tried to recreate it as best as i could. 

A work of seemingly spontaneous inspiration, Kanye's 808s and Heartbreak challenges even the most renaissance of expectations.   A global musician fighting to stretch the lens and be recognized, refereed, and ratified as a global artist, Mr. West interrupts our regularly scheduled programming to deliver this message, sometimes it hurts too. If this compilation were to be compared to that of another artist, it seems best suited for comparison to Pablo Picasso’s Blue Period. Earnestly enough the album starts with a question and a problem posed in the first six seconds of “Say You Will”. One could ask why Kanye chose to spend half of the track painting the background so. Perhaps it is there to make way for a formal “Welcome to Heartbreak” in which he confesses, “My friend showed me pictures of his kids, and all I could show him was pictures of my cribs.” Questioning sacrifice and trailing backgrounds are recurring themes throughout this collection.

The main body of the album is with as large a panorama as one can achieve prioritizing one drum machine for production and one topic for discussion. “Heartless” cuts, “Amazing” feels the most familiar in this great departure, and Love Lockdown anchors the theme of heartache. “Paranoid” taffies relationship issues with light-hearted instrumentation and tone as “Robocop” follows suit at the heart of the album. He put the shades back on. “Street Lights” eases you back into the heavier things abound in the latter end of the album as Kanye wanders back out there.

“Bad News” sounds like the conversation one has with him/herself after hanging up the phone in frustrated despair. “See You In My Nightmares” is the anger that proceeds the anguish. The synth reminds of the tone from “Can’t Tell Me Nothing”. And then, the lonely nights come again bringing with them memories made in the “Coldest Winter”. Speculation has been laid that this song is about Kanye’s mom but I don’t hear a sad song about mom in this. Instead, there’s this short, conclusive track to an album about love lost and the bluer notes of relationship. The song sounds like someone marching through a snow storm. Question being, where are they going and what are they leaving?  

I’m not sure it’s right to require a master piece from every artistic offering. Venerated masters of art from literature, music, cinema, and still visual didn’t produce “that” piece every time. Not every Miles blow was hallowed. Can you name another book that Ms. Neale Hurston wrote? A far greater point is that master work is essentially a matter of perspective, popular as it may be. Even Picasso, during his blue period, struggled to accurately express perspective with human subjects. So what did he do, put them on one line, parallel to the horizontal axis of the canvas. 808s’ lyrical apex comes in the final track, “Pinocchio Story”.  Have you listened to the track/the man/the boy? The orchestral apex happens somewhere between Heartless and Coldest Winter. A sonic master piece, this is not. But for now…

Note: http://pablo-picasso.paintings.name/blue-period/

i know

Did you notice that YouTube is wide screen and now offers hi-def?

And just like that
I knew
It couldn't be you
Me, what was that
thing I learned about
me
I was looking at
flashing lights
In the sky
Then the street
On the line in between
flashing lights
I can't be all of me
Some of it I'd have to leave
at the door
before I could be sure
you'd be happy with
all you see
Just like that

Nov. 21, 2008 (3:21pm)

Perhaps the most significant event to be held in the name of diversity on Clemson's campus was sponsored by the Clemson Conservatives. I don't say this in sarcasm or jest but sincerity. I'm speaking of an event that has not left my memory since its impression. They sponsored a speaker whose name I have ,however, forgotten. The forum centered on the disadvantages of multiculturalism and diversity. Suffice it to say that upon prior research I learned that the speaker's personal relationships had been found in company of those of the radical racial sort. Expectations aside, he more or less gave a 30 minute speech espousing the virtues of segregation. George Wallace might have been proud. The question-answer portion of the event included attendees submitting questions into a pot to be screened by members of the Clemson Conservatives group. I was shocked to discern the discretion taken in choosing the questions as evidenced in the questions cleared to the speaker. Never before had I felt so hushed. Reader, I cannot express the paradox this puts a mind both passionate and rational into. A few others saw their passion win over. One was nearly escorted out. It only hurt their opposing arguement, of course.
At the close of question-answer portion, the police proceeded down the isles of the Vickery auditorium as the speaker said he would be available for questions after the event closed. I went down to them. My brief moment there was not as interesting as the conversation I had with the man outside of the building. In short, he attempted to make a case for how slavery was better for African Americans than would freedom have been. I left the conversation and occassion invigorated. I have since been to several diversity training sessions, multiculturalism-centered events, and served a term as the Undergraduate Student Government Council on Diversity Affairs Director. I have yet to experience an event as edifying as that night some two years ago now. Never before have I been in the company of such well behaved racists, white or black. Never since have I been in a setting that allowed an opinion so socially austricized to be expressed without incident. There was judgement on both sides but there was no coarse objectification or bawdy attack. It was all handled. In it's own way even, it was handled fairly. So rarely is such view given public forum. The irony of diversity is that for it to be accurately manifest, it make room for those who would see it discredited and done away with. Anything other than is a burlesque diversity. Above all, I will never forget the sincere, polite young man as he tried to express to me that my people had not been so great. That we had not made such a great impact on the nation or the world. That we, in comparason to his people, were indeed less than. That I, in comparason to him, was less than. It was not my fault. It just was. He needed to say that. I could hear the moisture in his throat as he spake it. A momento he had kept. He shared this with me. And in polite rebellion. I said nay.

I thought it might be over before it was announced

"Hurray!

I know a tree
It is red
And the truth
Of it's life
Is only found
In it's death
Where light
Meets drought
Meets cold
It bleeds
This confession
With remarkable presence
And the bare naked limbs abound
Bleeds down to it's soul
Till it too stands
Upon solemn ground
Shameless

I am a witness

I sit and stare at less than life
Staring up into the opacity
And beams to support this structure
Lighted lamp posts on the inside
Critters on the wall
Cells and cells
Columned windows to less than life
Images only
Not to smell or taste or to tough
Only to stare at
From three feet of space
The same as thousands of miles away
To wrinkle land
But still only to watch
Only to stare
Windows only highlight my prison
But I am caught in the dream of it all
Give hours to nothing
At least I can see you
Staring up into your opacity
Seeking ventilation like air you help me breath fake air
Give me a place to dream to
With beams to support this structure
Cue the violins
Sometimes I can hear
Like escaping footsteps through wrinkled land
When I sit, still
And stare at nothing

Decided

To shoot by love

Since some girl taught me

I can’t choose my love

So I take my watch off

The light still on

Alarm don’t ring

I set on snooze

No charms, no rings

I’m dead on cool

If she don’t concede, she can leave

Right

Right

Somebody tell me that I’m right

Come on

I been goin at it like this too long to be wrong

The time I’ve lost, cannot be re-won

Cannot re-wound

Cannot rebound-ed

U-cate me on how

I’m supposed to be better than I was,

Right now

When what don’t move

Only makes me refuse to budge

Look, I ain’t that used to love

Aight

So grudge if you want,

Cause we broke off salty

A couple showers always got your smells off me

But the tears that leave the taste the longest

End up being the bitter ones

So I always feel more acquitted than a quitter

And if you ask me

My way makes sense

Even saves a dollar

Man that’s 2 for 1

Only time I doubt

Is when we get done and she ain’t out

Like she might as well be

Haven’t met anybody I wasn’t willing to give up on

So I get a little jaded with the old love songs

I'm unfinished

Just returned from the #Annual Fall Fest (greek step show).  It was a good show, my last show as a student actually. There was a young lady there that I know. She's physically beautiful. I don't know her heart or mind yet so I reserve unbrideled praise of her 'beauty'.  My advisor made a comment the other day about how I short-change myself socially. For whatever reason, I'm not getting out there enough. Lesson Maybe

I'll jog first. My purpose in creating this blog started off rather selfishly. I think now though, that it may prove helpful, at least entertaining for you too. Rather than a peeved journal, or specialized hitlist, my aim is set "Publish Post" squarely on inspiration. Let's leave it up there and not confine this post to any specific genre. Whatever passion, whichever river flows  through thoroughly will be channeled and posted. Here's a poem that came while I was in a 12-passenger van with a few college mates on my way to a conference. It's titled, 

Sun in my eyes, I am America

I smell freedom

I hear justice

I have tasted tear-laden honey

I have felt the heavy hand on my shoulder

I walk on blades of glass

I run the risk

A singular article to follow us

This in my chant

This is my compass

This is my compassion.

A song

A psalm

A prayer to the heavens

Sun in my eyes, I am America

Goodmorning