"Ijuswannachill" - Large Professor

Fuck ok, no one will understand this except for all the older, So Cal cats, like myself. I was explaining pager language. Back in the day we didn't have cellphones or text messaging. And we couldn't always find a payphone, neither. And that shit was pricey as fuck! $.20 for 20 minutes of local calls. $1.00 for 3 minutes, anywhere in the US. Shit, I remember having to go to the mall to make those calls to the girls I was dating (more like, pursuing and getting rejected by and then saying, "Man, fuck this whole bullshit). Ok, I'm realizing that self deprecation will get you anywhere; so I'm exploiting the FUCK out of it.

Fuck, I really want to go into the intricacies of it but I'll just give you the basics. Roy is the expert pager guy, first on the block to rock the Bravo Express, clear pager case, melting crayons onto the motorola on the belt clips, rocking the long pager chains, etc. Ha! I got my first pager in 7th grade and thought I was the shit. Problem is that it was stolen so I had the audacity to return a page and get the number and then redistribute it to friends. Then you get voicemail and give your code to your girl (if you're a little bitch) and she'll either do your greeting message or check messages that you leave for her or check messages other people left you. There's this real art to it. Understand that sometimes, people will find toll free numbers to access their voicemails; so instead of dropping all your change, you just leave messages for each other. The original, ghetto message boards!

This is really going to date me and a few other folks. I guess for you younger veals, this is the "when I was your age, I had to type weird ass fucking numbers to create this one-way, text language." Now, the codes and numbers are different depending on where you're from (Valley, SGV, LA-LA, Glendale/Eagle Rock, Long Beach/Cerritos/Carson). But, here goes:

Basics (crypted by amount of letters in each word):
424 = call me back
143 = i love you
637 = always and forever

Urgency of page (so preface it with 424, different crypting)
2529 = asap
911 = now!
187 = pull the fuck over and call me, it's a straight up emergency, shit's going down

Now, the alphabet (it really depends on how each person does it, but this is, in my opinion, the best way of coding it). The real science is looking at each letter, and then seeing what number (or combination of numbers) will resemble it best -- sometimes the letters are upside down, sometimes you have to stretch your imagination and consider other people's alphabet (since a 6 can be many things, use rarer number to represent other letters so there's less of a mix up). Keep in mind, the numbers appear all blocky, like an alarm clock, back then:

A = 2
B = 8
C = 6
D = 0
E = 3
F = 9
G = 6
H = 4
I = 1
J = 7
K = 15 (use your imagination, but sometimes just spell the word with a C)
L = 1 (can get real messy if you spell out "will")
M = 177 (see it, now?)
N = 17
O = 0
P = 9
Q = 9 (because 9 is only reserved for P or F, there will be little ambiguity should you ever have to spell a word with Q)
R = 12
S = 5
T = 7
U = 17 (upside down)
V = 17 (figure out the word)
W = 177
X = 8
Y = 4
Z = 2

Where's my diaper, I need to take a shit. Ok, so:
Roe = 1203
Katie = 152713
Hip Hop = 419 409

Get it? Now you can chuck that shit out the window; you ain't ever going to use it, ever again! But fuck me for the possibility that one day you'll end up in a time warp and go back to 1992 and don't know how to ditch school, tell your love interest you love her (always and forever if you're as gay as me), call your homies because you're about to get your ass JUMPED!

Ha, Roy. Did that make you feel young again? Know what else works? Shaving your fucking thick, well-developed mustache. Ha!

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/vtqmf1y2o4

Next topic of discussion: The G Line (whassup whasssup)

"Brainy" - The National

Hello All,

So it looks like I'll be taking off in about three weeks so I need to learn to shut up a little more and type a little less in my write ups so that I can prepare for the journey. So, tomorrow I'll fill you all in on my rough itinerary in hopes that you guys will have hookups in those countries or can recommend some places to visit or enter and slash or some cute women to visit or enter.

I must say that the past week was a hectic week in music for me. Started off with 120 gigs of music to go through, and by Friday I was down to 24 gigs. Savior (and asshole at the same time) Roy came through on Friday night and blessed me with about 7 gigs of music so now I have to go through another 1100+ songs. Roy, get a sex transplant and let's make babies. Ok, no need for that, just buy a wig, yeah (I don't care what style, just make it human hair)?

Ok, so just to give you guys a sense of what's on my plate. I'm scared shitless; which explains my rush to get to the music. I have to go through Eastern Europe, through all the techno and house with one grand finale iPod. It's like I'm Noah with limited occupancy; wielding a machete through my library, slashing songs and artists and albums like a used car salesman. And I mean it in a literal sense. A used car salesman, holding a sword, literally slashing albums at Tower Records.

That's how fucking crazy I am.

Hopefully you can empathize with me for a second, I have one 30 gig iPod and I won't be able to update it for almost half a year. This is driving me nuts. A lot of artists simply aren't going to make it for the journey. I've let go of all my emo, grunge, psychobilly and punk songs. I have no metal, no KROQ songs (except for a few) and I'm just hoping that I can fall in love with a few artists before I go on my journey. I can't even update my smart playlists....oy vey!

Dude, so today's band came into my existence just a few hours ago. Fuck, I like them a plenty. I'm really feeling them, I'm really feeling optimistic. Anyway, I hope to bring forth some good music before I bounce and I hope to like, somehow permanently etch myself into your memory banks at the same time.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/1mkt1cpkck

Hip Hop, Its Use of Nigga, and Its Implications On the Non-Black World

Allow me to disclose the fact that I'm not trying to write a political piece, at all. To further illustrate it, I said Black, instead of African-American. African-American is such a rigid term; actually, I find it to be more offensive of the two. It’s used with good intent, with its manifest function serving as a politically correct show of respect and tolerance. However, latently, it is also a distinguishing term – creating an us - them dynamic that is, in my opinion, far more detrimental to society’s perspective on the world. So, to recap, I refer to Blacks as Blacks, Whites as Whites, Filipinos as Mexicans, etc. I was totally kidding on the last statement so don't cry.

Let’s start off with the word, Nigger. Merely access your own internal reaction to it and there is no denial of its weight. It’s wrong and I swear to never say it again, but I needed to illustrate my point. It’s a word, so powerful and dense with history that I’m sure your hands are hovering over your mouse just so that you can minimize your computer screen in case someone goes near it.

“Oh my, oh my, oh my. Please, Shirley, I hope my eyes are deceiving me because I just glanced at your computer monitor and….”

Iron Mike Tyson of a word, right? Well then, how about the word Nigga? It leaves non-Black folks (like myself) in a bind. I mean, it’s another intonation of the aforementioned; it’s still Mike Tyson, but more so in a crazy-ass-tribal-tattoo-on-the-face kind of way than a sexy-ass-Robin-Givens-on-the-face kind of way. It’s like what crack is to cocaine, but due to its lower potency level, cost effectiveness and accessibility, the term Nigga experiences more widespread usage. However, the major difference is that the Nigga seems to be more of a mindset than an identity. For example, Cypress Hill uses it, and B Real is Cuban, que’ no? And if you’re from the East Coast and you’re Puerto Rican, it’s like you’re getting unlimited minutes just by being in close proximity of Blacks. But, if you’re Boricuo and from San Bernardino, you’ll be in for a shocker when you yell it out while you’re losing at Street Fighter at the Gameworks in Ontario Mills. I guess the West Coast equivalent for the Non-Black community and its permissible use of the word Nigga would lie in the hands of, like, anyone who lives in the city of LONG BEACH.

But how about a cat, such as myself? I don’t know if my use or non-use of it is a reflection of my ignorance or my attempt at being polite/politically correct. I mean, I hear it in the song and shit, like, they fucking wrote it, right there, in the song. I’m not going to substitute that verse for the fucking radio version. That is why the best MC will always be Black; simply because he can use the word generously. Not being allowed to say it is equivalent to using steroids in bodybuilding; it’s wrong but you cannot be a serious contender without it. I’ve always pondered it in my mind, and a strange thing happened to me a few years ago that made me realize I could no longer ignore its taboo usage….

It was during an annual snowboarding trip to Big Bear, among friends and friends-of-friends. Turned out there was this one cat, a White guy that shared a mutual love for hip hop. So of course I took out the Lame Day album (American Idiot was humungous that year) that was playing and threw in my iPod playlist, “Classic 90s Hip Hop Joints.” Befuddled at first, we soon wove a common thread once “Fu-Gee-La” came on. We were elevated and in unison started rapping to it. Then I thought, “Ok, Lauryn Hill’s verse is coming on and she says, ‘niggas huff and they puff but they can’t handle us.’ How am I going to address it?” He started to mute his voice; and the quivering of his mouth suggested he was thinking the exact same thing, so we both looked at each other. Cliff hangers suck.

Which brings me to this point -- when is it permissible for a non-Black person to yelp it out? To me, it’s anytime I want to feel just plain gangsta. To my ghetto ass friends, it’s anytime. To my colleagues, it’s “oh my, I would never say such a thing.” It’s not like I am exercising my first Amendment right to use it generously, but the same music that glamorizes nigga is the same music that pumps through my veins. As I mentioned earlier, it’s a mindset for most, but for me, it’s a part of my Hip Hop, cultural vernacular. Nigga isn’t meant to be righteous or correct; and neither is Hip Hop. It’s just meant to be, as is, and I guess I’ll have to take away from it what I will and use it accordingly.

Currently, I find myself in this awkward place where I can still use it liberally (in its appropriate context) as long as I consider the possible, oppressing ramifications it may have on my audience. Trust me guys, I anticipate your reactions and I am always curious to observe how people respond when they, too, are faced with the predicament. And to all the Black folks, please know that everyone secretly wishes they could incorporate it into their daily vocabulary because it just makes us feel all gangsta (and shit).

And don’t worry, all you nigga loving, non-Black folks; I’m not going to keep you hanging, so here is my basic rule of thumb. Privacy of your own car = Yes. In the company of close friends that know you = Yes. In the company of friends that you know = Not necessarily. In a work environment = Hell no. Dancing at a club where they play hip hop music = Depends but should be ok so long as it’s at a Black club and you’re a White girl (I’d say it’s fine). College bar = Don’t do it, even if you are Black. Underground hip hop show = permissible, but only try to make eye contact with the artist so that you can explain yourself by saying that you were so captivated by the performance and that of course you don’t have any ill meaning by it and “come on man, I’m a hip hop head.” Just don’t say your best friend’s Black. Punks jump up to get beat down. And all you Uncle Tom, yuppie Black folks…nigga please.

You see, a tolerance mindset started taking form in the late 60s. Fast forward to now and you’ll see that it’s so correct that even the term Wigger seems derogatory (I’m still trying to figure out which group finds it more offensive).

Throughout my upbringing, I was raised on the acceptance standpoint. I had to accept the fact that Whites were going to lump me into the same boat as all Asians and start a fight with me (6 wins, 1 loss). I had to accept the fact that Filipinos were going to think I’m also Filipino and that they’ll start shit because they thought I was from the same privileged, yet neglectful background as them (1 win, 0 losses). I had to accept the fact that any Asian gang was going to think that I was from either Wa Ching or Asian Boys and try to start shit with me no matter how I responded. And finally, I had to accept the fact that Mexican kids were going to ask me if I knew Karate and try to kick my ass because I was un chino, cochino (6 wins, 14+ losses). You see, tolerance is institutionalized and forced by law. Acceptance, on the other hand, is the maturation of the outcome and the next natural step; but not necessarily better, either. But perhaps with discussions and reconsiderations like these; in the form of arguments or even the shattering of friendships, can we, as a generation, perpetuate society to the next stage. From tolerance (where the coexistence is coerced) and acceptance (where you just kind of have to fucking deal with it) to embracement – where we discover that the differences and similarities and between us are merely two sides of the same coin (and we’re like, “fuck it, doode!”). Our generation can build this house, and niggas…they can huff and they can puff, but they’ll never handle us.

--- Sonnyred (proefound@yahoo.com)

Simplified version: Sometimes, I just want to say nigga.

"No Need to Cry" - British Sea Power

Hello All,

The laundry lint sky loomed over us this past weekend, but it looks like the sun found its way to help usher us through the week so hold onto your receipts (you'll be able to exchanging your umbrellas for parasols soon enough).

Well, a civil unrest between my mind and my heart has been taking place over the past few weeks. First of all, I love driving through our beautiful city when it rains. A cerebral experience where you can succinctly feel so at peace and so in the throes of the earth's cries. It brings me closer to God; a baptizing experience that the sun doesn't want you to know about.

And through the clogged arteries of the Angel, it grants me time to think. Waiting at intersections, I sit there and try to align the rate of my turn signals with that of the car in front of me...

BLINK - BLINK

BLINK - BLINK

BLINK - BLINK

BLINK - BLINK

One's always a little too late, one's moving at too fast a speed...sometimes they're not even turned on. But still, I find myself doing it all the time. Blinking, waiting, relieved at the initial synchronization, and then cursing the inevitable departure.

This past weekend, I found myself on Pier and Hermosa Avenues. I had a shitload of boat on my mind; and selfishly, I paid little attention to anything else...

BLINK - BLINK

BLINK - BLINK

BLINK - BLINK

BLINK - BLINK

BLINK - BLINK

And though I found her in complete unison, all I could do was scold at that inevitable departure; and foolishly, paid no attention to anything else.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/3srt1w1wk4

"Do Ya Thing" - Black Milk feat J Dilla

Hello All,

Hope you all had a good tail end of the year. Damn, so much change on my part in the past month. Just to recap a little on my end: got my nose sliced almost all the fuck off, lost my job, put surfing on a temporary six month hiatus, preparing for a life changing journey (covert operation to spread "real" hip hop to the Europeans). That's right blokes, take off that Lady Sovereign and MIA and Dizzie Rascal Flats.

It was tough because I had to do all this crazy PC/old Dell/reformatting iPod hoopla bullshit so that I could get this song thing up and running again. I'm now living within gunshot of Roy so you know I'm going to come with it in 08. I'm going to stay on this hip hop thing until I leave because I'm not really sure when/if I'm coming back. Either way, till then the most important thing I can do is really just put solid bangers on my iPod to carry me through all the techno clubs.

The most interesting thing that has happened to me is that I moved back to my parents' house in Baldwin Park. I'm very much a family man so I'm glad to be spending time with my fams until I bounce. Needless to say, my parents welcome me back with open arms -- carne asada tacos waiting on the table and tamarindo in the fridge when I started moving stuff last week. No joke and I'm Thai. Then when I officially moved in my mom wanted to welcome me to feel comfortable so she bought me two tall boys of Magnum Malt Liquor. No joke and I'm Thai. (For real, ma? Don't you know that I've given up Malt Liquor that one time you bounced to Laughlin and I yacked it off of some 800? How about I don't know...a Malbec?). Finally, last night my friend called me up to come down and chill so I met him up at 7-11 and got some drinks on and caught up and he showed me updated pictures of all the hoodrats we used to kick it with -- all blown up and childbearing. No joke and I'm Thai. Simply talking to a few of my friends I've realized that at least 4 of my close friends became parents in the past two months alone. Good lord it's like I jumped straight up into the air as the Earth revolved a few thousand times and landed, back where I came from. A familiar place where I no longer belong. No joke and I'm different.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/7xv8gh5q8c

"The New Year" - Death Cab for Cutie

Hello All,

Hope you all had a wonderifus holiday. How gay is that? I need to develop some more creative greetings than that, eh? Either way, Julia hooked me up with this newfound inspiration from this book and I hope to step my game up in terms of writing. Even better news is that I'm quitting weed; so soon I'll actually remember what I read instead of relying on my intermittent subconscious to deliver the findings. Yep, I've decided to drop the anchor on my pot habit before my pot habit manifests into a pot belly. Ok, I'm not buying but I'll totally smoke if anyone has any. Ok, smoke me out and I'll buy you a drink, how bout that? Ok, really, they're less like absolutes and more like notso-oftens-as-I-usedtoos. Well, it's been two days....I need a sponsor to support me. Maybe Marlboro?

Well, I wanted to start off the year with Cat Power again. I know, I need to kick my habit of sending her as often as I do. You see, there's this thing going on...it's called laziness. Kind of, but then again, maybe I just really want everyone to like Cat Power. See, people? Keeping you on your toes.

I'm a fucking enigma. (therefore, justifying the line break)

En garde!

I just thought I'd bring this song up because it reminded me of how it seems like...I'm not going to make anything up. Ok, it's a new year. Let me send out a song that is reflective of it....hold on, I'm going to swap it out.

Ok, so this was the first song I've ever heard from Death Cab for Cutie about 4 years ago or so...whatever. I'm relatively new to this independent rock thing but I meticulously mask it with some self-righteousness and I comment on people's breath when they oppose me. It works, trust me. So, when I first heard the name, I thought "What the hell is this? Metal rockers with a flair for pet names? Or like a soccer mom driving her kids to...uhh...death..or like...Orange County!?!" Please don't make me think about Orange County anymore. Ever notice how there's both an "O" and a "C" in "Orange County is a piece of crap?"

Coincidence? Whatever, Stinky.

-- Sonnyred

http://www.box.net/shared/vlsefehgcg