Jean Goode & Asteroid Belt are Bad Life + Gadgets

The above video is a remix of Logan Lynn's "Write It On My Left Arm" from my peoples Jean Goode and Asteroid Belt who, combined, form Bad Life + Gadgets. Dope ass name. I wish I had thought of it first. :( But yeah, I really like this jant, and if you like ambient, sorta-glitchy electronic music you will, too.

I know what you're probably thinking: "man, this guy only updates when he's promoting something." And you're right. If you need something to blame, though, Twitter is the culprit. Though I really need to get back into writing my ideas and thoughts on this thing more often, because 140 characters or less just isn't enough for me.

So, maybe later on this week I'll provide a post that's a bit more... I don't know. More? Something like that. My vocabulary is terrible if you didn't know already. Alright, y'all. I be out this ho.

Oh! I am making plans to move up to NYC. So I'll have to put the dream vacation in Japan on hold.

In Search Of...

A conversation with a friend got me thinking... about God. Truth be told I think about God enough as it is, but there was something he said about me yet experiencing that revelatory moment that finally solidifies my stance on what God wants from me. Sure, one could say that He only wants my "devotion" and whatnot, but I'm kind of a heretic and tend to think that God's purpose for us might be a tad more complex than that (I could be wrong, though). Anyway, what my friend said really got me thinking. I'm starting to wonder if he's right.

He did also tell me that one's relationship with God should be personal, and if that's the case I'm thinking that I might have already experienced that Moment. Sure, I'm still plagued with uncertainty about His goal and our purpose in this universe, but for some reason I'm certain that He exists and sometimes, for whatever reason, nudges my life into certain directions.

Huh. How complex is that? Not very complex at all, haha. But maybe I'm expecting too much out of God... perhaps there isn't some super convoluted definition as to our existence. Maybe our purpose is just to live, with love and with passion, until it's our time to go.

And strangely enough I feel much better about life right now.

Peace.


The art above is entitled "God's" by Sendok. Great photographer.

Winter Soulstice 2

So, Winter Soulstice volume 2. It's finally here. I got to work on it sometime in September, and I finished in the middle of October, and spend all of November tweaking it and working on two other projects. But this is my baby. I really had fun making this thing, and I hope everyone feels inclined to click the image above and listen, and maybe download it onto their MP3 player or something. It'd be nice. If you like it, spread the word. Have any dislikes about it? Comment on this blog or shoot me an email. All your feedback is welcome.

Peace

Got PLAYED Like A Nagga!

As far back as I can remember, I have never had good luck with the opposite sex. Especially when I was a kid. If there was a girl I liked, chances are she thought I was gross. And if a girl actually liked me back, 9 times out of 10 she was bat shit insane. The fact that I was homeschooled didn't help, either. The only options I had growing up was the ghetto ass broads in my neighborhood, and you already know how that goes.

Not long after my 13th birthday, though, I was inclined to believe that my luck with girls had finally changed. My homeboy Justin pitied me after I'd lost Brittany, the only girl in the neighborhood that didn't think I was lame, to him (LOL the whole "don't date my best friend" thing didn't matter at that age). So he decided to hook me up with a girl named Amanda at their school.

"What she look like?" I asked him.

To which he replied in the most suspect tone ever: "She cute..."

"Dawg..."

"Trust me, nigga, she cute!"

"What's wrong with her?" I pressed, still not convinced.

"She's Brittany's best friend."

Wow. I knew that this could be a problem. Especially since Brittany was borderline psychotic, which probably meant that there was a huge chance that Amanda shared those exact traits. Crazy birds flock together, after all. But, desperate to have a girlfriend I told him to go 'head and do the damn thing.

The next day he tells me that she's interested, despite not having seen what I look like, and that she wants me to write her a letter. At that point I am fucking STOKED. Only my public school going friends did stuff like write cake letters back and forth, and I, a home school nerd*, got to partake! Finally, I was going to do normal kid stuff. There was a catch, though.

"Brittany's really the one that set this up...." Justin said. Motherfucker stayed full of surprises.

I sighed. "Dawg, are you serious?"

"Yeah," he said. "You'll have to give the letter to Britt so she can give it Amanda, 'cause I ain't got no classes with her."

I groaned and turned to head off toward my apartment building. "Aiight, whatever."

I worked on that letter all night. I must have re-written it at least a dozen times.

"Ew, my 'e' is too sloppy on this word," I'd say.

"Naw, that's too corny."

"Hm. Not corny enough."

I was a mess. But I got it done. I got up mad early and ran to the bus stop with the rest of the kids to hand Justin my letter. We both cheesed, dapped up, and parted ways. I was nervous the rest of the day, man. I couldn't concentrate on my school work. So much so that my grandmother nearly took my head off for zoning out during one of her history lectures. In hindsight it was really silly, I mean... this girl could have looked like a beast, and I was freaking out about impressing her. Perhaps I actually had enough faith in my homeboy to think that he wouldn't do me dirty like try to hook me up with a spidermonkey. Gross.

That afternoon Justin knocked on my door with this big ass grin on his face and an envelope in hand.

"Did you read it?" I asked.

He screwfaced. "Heck yeah I read it! What'chu think?"

I shook my head and snatched it out of his hand and tore it open. This broad sprayed the letter with perfume... my thirteen year old mind had thought that was super crazy, and for some reason instilled the notion that she was probably gorgeous. The unfolding the letter, the first thing I noticed was her handwriting. It was pretty as hell. She... didn't have her grammar straight, but she didn't have a Grammar Nazi for a grandmother that would scream at her for ending a sentence with a preposition or for using a double negative.

She talked about how she loved my letter, that I seemed really intelligent and that I seemed really cute. She also made a note to ask me what my shoe size was, as well as inquire how "light" I was. At the time I didn't pay it any mind, but thinking about it now, that broad was maaad color struck, and mega shallow. But I digress.

For the next week or so we had gone back and forth with letters and shit. I know at some point I had asked for her phone number, but she refused to give it to me. For what reason I wasn't sure. But I didn't think too much about it, and kept it moving. Eventually, it came time to meet. She said that she was coming to my side of town for a sleepover that Brittany was having, and that she was really excited to see me.

I had a mini freak out, then. What if this girl wasn't as wonderful and beautiful as I had imagined? What if I didn't meet up to her expectations? What if she was a fucking ignoramus and a fucking psycho like Brittany? "Think positive," I'd told myself. My nigga Justin wouldn't screw me over, anyway, right?

The day she arrived at our apartment complex, I rolled over to Brittany's house to meet her, with Justin and another homeboy of mine in tow. I was real nervous. I was wearing my best t-shirt ('member those polyester shirts with the anime characters on them?!), my best jeans (BOSS, baby!), and my freshest sneakers (WAH-ME-DOOOWIT! LOL! 'member those?!). I looked fresh, and everyone kept giving me compliments, but I still wanted to throw up my breakfast due to the anxiety fumbling in my stomach. I was a mess.

I felt a bit more confident once I approached Brittany's apartment and knocked on her door.

Someone other than Brittany had answered the door. She was thin... really thin. And looked really young, and just... strange in the face. She was rockin' a blue top with Tweety bird plastered on the front, the exact shirt Amanda told me she'd be wearing in her last letter. This was Amanda? Was this a joke? It fucking had to be.

She didn't look too pleased, either, to be honest.

But I think I had enough disappointment for the both of us, 'cause she exaggerated the HELL out of herself in her letters. What in the blue fuck, man!

"Uh... hey!" I said, forcing a smile.

"You Chris?" She asked flatly.

"Yeah..."

This broad rolled her eyes and closed the door.

This broad... rolled her eyes... and closed the door.

Now, I was disappointed myself, but what she'd done fucking STUNG. Furious, I turned to Justin who was looking down, shaking his head with this sly grin on his face.

"DUDE!" I grabbed him by the arm and lead him outside of the apartment building. "She's funny looking! And how old is she?!"

"Uh... eleven?"

"Are you serious?!" Sure, it was only a two year difference. But when you're 13, talking to 11 is practically on the same level as child molestation. Don't ask me why that is. It just is.

I groaned, let go of his arm, and stormed back to Brittany's door. I banged on it a few times and waited on a response. Brittany opened the door, screwfaced.

"She don't wanna talk to you." She said.

I had completely forgotten what the hell I had gone back to the door for. I STILL can't remember. But now I'm furious that this eleven year old funny lookin' ass broad is talking about 'I don't wanna talk to him'.

"Whatever, I should have known," I said. "Especially since she's your friend."

"Fuck you, lame ass nigga!" She screamed.

I didn't respond. I just walked away. I knew what was going to happen if I stuck around and argued with her. I didn't need this shit.

Next thing I know, I hear footsteps. Brittany, Amanda, and a bunch of other chicks flood out of the apartment following me, screamin' and hollering and shit.

"You lame ass nigga," I heard Amanda saying, "If I had known you was ugly I wouldn'ta wasted my time!"

I stopped. Turned around. And blanked.

I have never considered myself a handsome dude. But I'll be damned if I'll let a funny lookin' broad talk about my looks. Besides, I can play the dozens with the best of them. I'm screaming and cussing and calling them names, clowning their clothes, their shoes, everything. Then Brittany decides to make a low blow.

"That's why you got a little dick!"

Total fucking silence.

Now, Brittany had never seen my dick. But it didn't matter. Brittany was the neighborhood bicycle, so cats took her word for it when she talked about a dude's dick size. She was an expert in that field. The looks on the girls' faces were a mix of amusement and horror. That doesn't make sense, but it does. Trust me. I needed a comeback. And fast.

"Me got a little dick?" I said. "Stop comparing your dick to mine, BITCH!"

That pretty much did it. It wasn't the joke, either. It was the word I'd punctuated the joke with. "Bitch." She went rabid. Like, shorty charged at a nigga with every intention to beat my ass. I sure as fuck wasn't going to let her, and I think Justin sensed it. I mean, I had no intention to molly whop this chick, but I would at least utilize a counter manuver I'd learned in Tae Kwon Do. (Wah-tah, bitch!) Dude grabbed me and dragged me away. Like, literally dragged me away. I'm screaming and cussing the entire time, and that's when I hear Amanda scream.

"THAT'S WHY YOU GOT PLAYED LIKE A NAGGA!"

And honest to God, I couldn't even be mad anymore. I just started laughing.

"Justin, did you just hear that?"

Justin fucking fell, and I fell with him. Now, the way I'm describing it might not be so hilarious, and really, in hindsight, it wasn't that funny to begin with. But something had sparked there, and it had amused Justin and I to no fucking end. It made that little fiasco worth it.

LOL So... yeah. Later on that day my grandmother hears that I was outside cuttin' up and cussin', and I got grounded for two months. It was worth it, though. Top 5 experiences of my lifetime, hands down.

Peace.

- Chris

Bulldookie Jobs

So last night my uncle and his childhood pal approach me about a job they had found on Craig's List. I should have been "EH-EH" at "Craig's List" but I try not to be (too) judgmental about that sort of thing. And they're raving "Oh, it's awesome! It's easy money! You can make like $600 by doing virtually nothing!"

Right then the alarms had set off. Especially since my uncle's friend has that... how do I explain it? You know that one guy that constantly tries to get over? "Get Rich Quick" personified. Mr. Don't Work Hard, Don't Work At All kind of dude.

But I said "Naw... I ain't got nothin' but beef and chicken ramen and soy sauce. I'm gonna give this gig a shot." They gave me some guy's number and I called him to set up an interview.

So this morning, I got up and got ready to head out to do this interview... which was at a coffee shop on the UNCG campus. Now, at this point I am getting the super jitters. Interview in an office, behind a closed door, one on one (Pause)? Fine. But an interview in a coffee shop cram PACKED with collegiate cats too cool for Starbucks? LOL Maaan. If you don't know already, large crowds make me freak out, but I contained my panic.

I walk in and my uncle and his pal and a cute girl was sitting at this table, and I get introduced and whatnot. Sit down, and the guy goes over the details of the job. And as he's explaining it... I'm getting more and more turned off by the idea. Here's what it is:

Alright, so, the Alliance for Climate Protection is running this campaign to get Senator Kay Hagan to sign this bill for energy conservation, which, I think, is a great cause. So, immediately I'm thinking "Oh, so it's a petition and all they need is signatures." BZZZT, nope. Turns out, they want personalized hand-written letters from folks (and they have to be written within the hour of complying), or a 1 to 2 minute video explaining their reason for wanting this bill to be passed.

Getting 25 letters equates to a single shift, which will get you paid $90 bucks. 20 videos also equates to a shift. And if you net 25 letters and 20 videos in one day, that's two shifts! If you do this everyday, you could make like $1000 a week! Awesome!

I saw through the bullshit immediately.

First off, it takes a lot of time and effort to even get people to give their signature for a petition, let alone write a detailed letter to a Senator. And that's the thing that was killing me, a single page letter, within an hour of agreeing to write one... not many people are going to do that. You'll be lucky to finish a shift in a WEEK. You're better off getting videos of people, and if you're going to do videos you had better do college students. College students are always full of ideas and eager to partake in good causes and whatnot. But 20 videos is unlikely to do in a day.

Secondly, this job requires a bright and charismatic personality, and that's something I just don't possess. I mean, I almost freaked out in the coffee shop because there were way too many people in there, there's no way I'd be able to approach people about this kind of thing. It's bad enough that the chances of making any decent money is extremely low with this job, and it'd be even worse with my borderline agoraphobia LOL.

All in all, it's not a job where I would make any steady, decent money, and it's a job that I'm simply not cut out for. Hopefully my uncle and his friend will have some great luck with it, but I know I'd be absolutely useless.

So... back to the grind it is.

Speaking of the grind, I need to search for more webdesign clients. I need to build a website for my webdesign. I got a lot of shit to do. =\

Wish I had more control.

Life doesn't always go according to plan, and dreams don't always come true. Four years ago I would have scoffed at those words, but that was when I still believed I was in control of my life. My uncle says I should probably read some [Biblical] scripture, but as a guy who's pretty much denounced religion and opted to seek my own relationship with ol' Yahweh, I can say that doing so would do nothing but aggravate me, especially the scriptures he's pointing me to (I ain't too keen on prophecies and apocalyptic stuff). Don't get me wrong, though. I think that book contains a lot of wisdom that a good deal of people should learn from. Also, I'm no atheist, I just tend to think like one sometimes. What the hell was I talking about again? Oh, right.

The thing that inspired these notions that I am no longer in control of my life is the fact that I am going to be 25 in about six days and my life is nothing how I envisioned it would be. I cannot find anything steady, and I just can't seem to gain enough attention with my music, despite being told how much of a talented artist I am. My living situation is... God, I don't even want to say. Had to sell my Montero, so no whip. All in all, I feel pretty worthless, and I know I am partly responsible for that (considering I stopped going to college for... 'stupid' reasons), which makes me feel worse.

My homeboy told me that considering the way the economy that my situation isn't uncommon, with or without a degree. He also pointed out that I shouldn't worry 'bout what others think of me because they're assholes. Which I think is true. I think if Tiff was still here in Greensboro I would feel a lot better. Her crib was my home away from home, man. No confusion. No bullshit. No drama. Just music, friendship, and some bomb ass cooking. That, and ol' girl doesn't judge me. You don't run into too many people like that. You know how many times I have run into cats—particularly women (generalization alert!)—that I think I'm cool with that just kick me to the curb once they realize that my life isn't totally pieced together as it probably should be.

Wait... does that mean that those girls were actually into me? LOL Why else would they worry about my career path and all that shit? Weird. That one girl was actually cute, too. Shame.

Anyway. I know I am a "loser." For now, at least. I know that my shit ain't together, which is why I don't really associate with folks outside of the ones I'm already really close with, or even go out and date. If you don't like it, fine. Smile and keep it movin'. Just know that a brother ain't sittin' on his ass, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for good shit to happen. I can't help the fact that the amount of work I pour into making things happen for me doesn't spring up results. I mean, fortune can't smile down on everyone.

But I am trying.

Well... let me get back to work on this music.

Peace.

- Chris.

The gorgeous photo above is a piece entitled "Sunday" by James McKenzie. Check out his DeviantArt page here.

Tiff Cutright - Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

Click image to listen and download.

So, after months and months of waiting, my homegirl finally releases her mixtape, and it was well worth the wait, dammit. Male or female, girl puts it down, and I'd argue with anyone that thinks she's anything less than dope. Call it a bias or whatever, but just listen for yourself. Don't let my fandom gas you. Ha. So, yeah, click the cover above to go to her Bandcamp page and listen to it, and if you like it enough, download that jant!

Peace.