happy holla-dayz!

Spike Lee came to the University of Illinois a few years ago and I had the opportunity to listen to his advice. $40,000 and an hour later, he pretty much fed everyone the same bullshit we always hear, "If you put your mind to it, you can do anything". Since this is the season of wanting, I started to think of all the things I want and don't want and I thought maybe Mr. Lee was right. Maybe I could put my mind to it and do or get whatever I wanted. Nope.

Disclaimer: It is to your advantage to watch all of the videos.

I want to be #1 like...

I want to eat dinner with my family in my dorm room like...

I want to stencil like...

And I want to draw who I truly am, like...

I want to hillbilly like...

Or like...

Or even like...

I just don't want to be the Chinese Ambassador anymore, like...

Well, as long as the good old days keep coming around with Dan, like...

Because I want to have brothers like...

Or sisters like...

Because I'm going to want a shoulder to lean on like...

Especially when I don't want to look like a lesbian like...

Instead I'd want to show off my haircut like...(and then be able to have a legitimate excuse on why I still have this picture)

Or like...

And not be insecure like...

Because then I'd want to hit on girls like...

And eventually I'd be able to hang out with girls like...

And marry a girl like...

Or even have a secret (or not so secret) admirer like...

I want to learn how to stick out like...

Or like...hey Jason...

Then I want to show off my moves like...

With those moves, I don't want to be left out of the dance party like...

I don't want to be on the outside looking in like...

I no longer want my heart to be locked up like...(please click)

I want to stop making ads like...

And I want to stop wasting my time on Facebook like...

I need to clean up my life so it doesn't look like...

Or like...

Because then I'd be able to keep my head up like...

And sing-a-long like...

Because we all know Life is about balance like...

We don't want to let it flash before our eyes like...

So let's spend as much time as possible sculpting ourselves like...

Fuck it, who am I kidding? I just don't want to look like...


Enjoy these days.

6th grade?

I break hearts not chairs.

Actually, I do break chairs and really haven't broken any hearts. That's besides the point. Recently I noticed a few negative blog posts about me. They imply that I'm fat and say that I'm an idiot. Fair enough. But in my defense, I broke those chairs sitting. Here is a true story about other furniture that I had no part in breaking.


One morning, I woke up to find this. This is a picture of my living room. Notice anything weird about the couch? Take a look at the makeshift leg made up of literature.


"Uncle Tom's Cabin". Sounded disgusting. "Emma". Well I won't even bring up old shit. "Lies My Teacher Told Me". I actually read it, pretty good. But "MOJO" magazine. Really didn't leave anything to the imagination. Obviously the results of foul play. But what exactly? I pondered for hours.


This was on the coffee table. The perpetrators must have had a midnight snack before they, seemingly, knocked boots.


I looked at the party pictures from the night before when I came across this haunting picture. This is Dan 'dancing' at the party he was at. Please pay attention to his pose and use your imagination to create an idea of what kind of activities (think sexual) he is looking for after a long night of partying. Definitely doesn't look like he's interested in leaving any room for the Holy Spirit. Hey English major, didn't think I knew what foreshadowing was?


Now add this overwhelmingly happy guy. This picture was taken earlier in the day when we were on our way to make modern postmodern egg-carton-art. I think he just found out there was going to be a little Guided By Voices at the after party he was going to in the evening hours. Mouth wide-open. I didn't ask him to see his tonsils and I'm pretty sure Dan didn't either...or did he?


I was onto something but I really needed to know how broke the couch was to help develop a mental reenactment of what actually took place. I sat on it and just as I expected, it was broke, broke as fuck. It must have taken a lot of movement and a lot of weight to break the shit out of it. The couch is made out of the finest wicker Canada has to offer (probably about all it has to offer).


Then, I came across this picture. That pizza box stared at me and this time I wasn't frightened. (The last time I was scared shitless. I drank too much at C.O.'s and ended up with a girl who had genital warts). (Hint: think 'box'.)

By now you should probably be able to create a vivid, yet disgusting, mental image of what happened. If not, I did it for you. I created a work of art (influenced by Piet Mondrian, if you didn't know that, you might have more fun here). Banksy isn't the only one that can hang stuff up in 'museums' and get away with it. Look with your eyes, see with your soul.



So that's that. Mondrian even said it himself (with my help). From Plastic Art and Pure Plastic Art (1937). “Although art (dingdong sex) is fundamentally everywhere and always the same (wouldn't know), nevertheless two main human inclinations (PG way to put it), diametrically opposed to each other (at least that's what Jesus says), appear in its many and varied expression. One aims at the direct creation of universal beauty (Dan's), the other at the aesthetic expression of oneself (Matt's), in other words, of that which one thinks and experiences.”

I think I will name this mystery Game of Pricks.

I was Martin: "Michael Jordan and I have the same middle name."

Preface: People tell me that they couldn't see me named anything else. They say 'Marty' is perfect. I mean the name 'Marty' is perfect, most people happen to think I am a weirdo (jealousy). Let me let you in on a little secret, I wasn't always Marty. Well I started my life out as Marty and I was perfectly comfortable with that. I mean I was young and I had seen Back to the Future so subsequently I thought I was named after Marty McFly. At preschool my two best friends Darryl and Malcolm always called me Marty. My kindergarten teacher called me Marty, even when I peed my pants twice in one day. So for a long time I was perfectly comfortable with who I was. Then grade school came around. I switched schools and I found myself in a completely new place, both mentally and physically. I mean back at my other schools I was pretty much a certified OG. I had quite the reputation of being full of smiles. William P. Gray Elementary was new turf. Certified OG's were expected to adjust to their surroundings but one thing stood in the way. Attendance. The first day of school was fine. I picked out the honeyz I was planning on macking and I picked out the playboys that had potential to gain certification. Mr. Pena called out this thing named 'attendance' and I noticed that everyone had it but me. He'd call a name and awww da bitchez would raise their hands. I figured he had the premium HM-HO. I had to get me some of that. But anyways. For 3 days I noticed that my name was never called. I mean I did not want to be a sucka with this dude but I needed to learn his ways. So one day I went home and I asked my moms, "Why doesn't the teach ever call my name when he's taking attendance?". Moms was confused. For an hour she seemed pretty puzzled. Finally, she came over to me and she asked me to write my name. M A R T Y. She had realized the problem. She wrote: M A R T I N. "That's the name you have to go by in school." Martin, I didn't like it. I didn't feel it and it didn't feel me. The next day I listened for 'Martin' and sure enough moms was right (she was a teach too).

Everything went downhill from there. For years I felt like a Marty trapped in a Martin closet. I mean there was things that helped me deal with the anguish. Eazy-E helped, Bone-Thugz helped, Keith Sweat helped. Most notably Martin Lawrence's hit sitcom 'Martin' helped. But it didn't matter. I was lost. I turned 17 and I watched the Back To The Future trilogy. Marty McFly was still the absolute shit. I decided that I had to come out of the closet. I know. It was going to be tough. I tried to learn everything I could about Marty McFly. I learned a bunch of facts about who he was mackin and about how a bunch of lame ass dudes wanted his shoes (check it). But I came to the end of the line. Back To The Future came out on July 3rd, 1985. I was born on March 26th. I was probably named after some lowlife.

So you see, this is what shaped the confused person I am today. I continue to struggle between Martin and Marty and sometimes the latter has to take a back seat. Let me share some of those moments with you.



Name: Martin
Place: Ridgemoor Country Club
Year: Summer of 2003

Martin was an Honor Caddy. He made a lot of money. He sold his soul to the rich white elite. He would wait around for hours, almost all day just to carry a Conservative's golf bag, give him yardages, fix his divots, and wash his balls.

However, there was one thing Martin liked doing. He loved to hoop it up even when it was close to 100 degrees out. But he wasn't any good. While Marty still dreamed to someday make it on the Bulls and fly high next to MJ, Martin's ignorance outwardly showed everyone that Marty's dream would never be. Here is the evidence.



Martin couldn't drive.



Martin couldn't shoot.



Martin's teammates didn't like him. He was on the blue team.



Martin could kind of And-1, but not well.

Fuck Martin.

Note: Barb doesn't believe my name story. I tell myself I was named after Martin Luther King Jr. to ease T-pain.

Al-truism vol. 1: Earth, Wind & Fire + Swervestyle.

Earth, Wind & Fire have had numerous hits that you can shake your tail-feather to. When I was growing up (still am, aren't we all? actually I'm growing more out than anything) hearing "September" and other EW&F classics at 5:45AM on weekend mornings was delightful. I wasn't a fan of waking up that early but it was comforting to know that it was possible to get your swerve on that early in the morning. While you're drooling on your pillow, Al is perfecting those moves that will probably change your life. I know it changed mine.

Note: My reenactment of Al's moves in no way live up to the real thing.

TriBond

Donatello and Captain Hook all up in that ass.

Donatello


Captain Hook

It's official. We be doin it. NOT LIKE THAT, TRICK ASS HO ASS TRICK! We on our way to elevatin the game, ya dig? Dan Jiggity Johnson aka Donatello aka The Don aka Don uh tell ya, is the freshest thing to enter the Hip-Hop scene since Do or Die made "Po Pimp". Just to remind you how dope that shit is/was I done linked that shit to this mu-fuckin blog.



Marty C. aka Captain Hook be writin them, well...hooks. Simple as that. Donatello is King of the streets of Summit, Illinois which be across the street from Chicago (never 'The Chi'). The grass ain't no greena on the other side cuz the only thing we lookin at that's green is that dolla dolla, girl let me holla holla. Marty C. is King of Portage Park, Chicago and if you aint never heard of it that just means you a punk bitch that don't know no better. If you don't know, now you know. Just be on the lookout for our new single "I Hurt Too, We All Hurt" which actually, now that I think about it, sounds pretty pussy-esque. And you know we know about that pussy-esque (check out the video at the bottom, that's what our partiez are gonna be like minus the zebra print g-string and fake bonerz, cuz when shit is real, shit is real, ya dig playboy?). The title might seem soft but once we add that bass that make ya nut hairz stand up and plenty of high hat and maybe a little chopped and screwed, if we got time, that shit is gonna be rockin booty butt bangerz with hangerz. We grown ass men and if you be sippin on that haterade you better shut up talkin to us.



By the way all this shit is copyrighted, patented, and all up in ya urrrrea. Certified gangsters.

What's up Doc? Can we rock?

Mr. Shaquille O'Neal is a scholar in individuality. No matter how many nicknames you give him, he forever remains a genius in that, as an obnoxiously large person, he has completely redefined the overused expression "Live Big". I use the word 'obnoxiously' because the difference in height between Shaquille and I is depressing. According to ESPN.com, Shaquille is 7'1". If someone were to rest one of Shaquille's rims from any of his 34 cars from 1996 on my head, we would finally be a similar height. Remember dubz were extravagant in '96. These days if you are not riding on at least twenty twos (you can't lose, that's what's up) you might as well retire from the game us scholars (and Milton Bradley) like to call 'Life'. Shaquille is a rapper (not 'ternt sanga' like Thelonius Pain), a philanthropist, a backboard shatterer, sometimes a heart shatterer, never a pants shatterer, a specific fractional distillate of petroleum fuel oil, Superman on occasion, and always a Fu-Schnicken. Too many identities to count, and he's living each and every one of them B.I.G. Admit it to yourself, we all live multiple lives. Do we live them vicariously? Does Shaquille O'Neil feel that he is the real deal? Maybe. Let's question the way we live our lives. Dig it. Feel feelings and let's try to remember that Shaq is 'alidocious'.

Get that thing off of your head!

Celine Rocks The Great Wall

Yes it is ridiculous.

Sleep.

Peace Peekaboo.

Peekaboo (daughter of Mookyboo) used to sleep in my lap when I played Super Mario Bros. on Nintendo. That's how long ago we saved her from her family. She used to nurse my cuts and hog my sheets. She was the raddest bitch alive and she will be missed.

Back From The Future

Maybe this will help keep me sane.