Err... Okay

Chosen Few — Just How Jewish Are These Black Celebrities?

2010-08-05T14:21:00.000-04:00

Chosen Few — Just How Jewish Are These Black Celebrities?

Theo Martins' "Veni Vidi Vici" On ABC's Forgotten Next Tuesday | paul j cantor

2010-02-05T15:29:00.001-05:00

Theo Martins' "Veni Vidi Vici" On ABC's Forgotten Next Tuesday | paul j cantor

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2008-12-28T15:13:00.003-05:00

my first attempt at a video

2008-10-24T01:41:00.000-04:00

Music is The Most Powerful Tool On This Planet- A True Story About How Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" Changed Me

2008-10-22T02:39:00.003-04:00

The photo you see above is of George Lamond. You're probably scratching your heads, who the fuck is he? Honestly, I don't know that much about the guy other than that he was once a prominent artist in the whole Dance and Freestyle world of music.

A few weeks back, I wanna say maybe only three weeks ago, I was riding in my man Mex's car, flipping through the stations on the radio, and somehow we came upon KTU 103.5, and this sort of dancy type record was on. The melody sort of caught me off guard and I was like, what is this and why does it sound so familiar to me. It was a remake of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing," which I'd previously heard anyway, but for whatever reason, it wasn't dawning on me that quickly what it was.

Listen here: George Lamond- "Don't Stop Believing"

I got home and I hopped online, googled the track, found out George Lamond was behind the remake, and downloaded it. He's actually out here in staten island, which is even cooler. But anyway, I literally listened to this dance remake of the song over 100 times straight the next day. Then probably another 100 times before the week was out.

Thing is, I don't think I ever really paid attention to the lyrics of the original song, like just what it's saying. And I'm guilty of that completely with all records, I don't even hear words, I just hear melodies and music. I'm weird like that. I'm a musical cat. If I could, I'd just listen to instrumental music all day.

The lyrics go something like this:

Just a small town girl living in a lonely world
She took the midnight train going anywhere
Just a city boy born and raised in South Detroit
He took the midnight train going anywhere

A singer in a smokey room the smell of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile they can share the night.
It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers waiting up down the boulevard.
Their shadows searchin in the night
Streetlight people living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the night

Working hard to get my fill everybody wants a thrill
Payin anything to roll the dice. Just one more time.
Some will win some will lose some were born to sing the blues.
Oh the movie never ends. It goes on and on and on and on...

Don´t stop believing.
Hold on to the feeling.
Streetlight people.

Maybe I'm wack or whatever, for like such a cheesy club tune, or for being late to the Journey party or whatever, I don't give a fuck. Music gets to me when it gets to me and that's it. I finally got this song. I got it.

Playing it so many times, the message sank in 200%. It said to me, Gooch, Paul... whatever... Don't stop believing. Hold on to the feeling. This song is speaking to me. It's talking to a person who's been chasing the feeling since the first taste, which came years ago. I been working hard to get my my thrill through getting my fill. I'll do anything to roll those dice one more time. One more chance at doing something great. At doing something remarkable. Of doing something that most people can't. I'm a street light person. No, I don't come from a small town in the Mid West. But Staten Island might as well be a small town in New York City. It's the same thing. Everyone knows each other. Small town mentality.

I don't come from much. Blue collar family- mother a teacher, father works a city job. Didn't have much money growing up, even though parents provided when they could. But I wanted more, I still want more. I knew back in junior high and high school and then college, there was more to just the average stuff people out here get themselves into. Here, you go to school, you get a decent education, you become a city employee or police officer or firefighter or do some sort of criminal activity, you fuck with a few girls, have a few kids, and you hang with your boys. That's your life.

That's not what I wanted though. I needed that rush, that emotion. That chemical reaction that triggers something in your brain when you accomplish something that more often than not seems unachievable.

But lately, and I would say probably since the end of 2006, I haven't been feeling that emotion much. I've been sort of down about things. I admit it. There, I said it. I've been salty about a whole bunch of stuff, even though I've accomplished a great deal and defied all odds. The fact that I wasn't moving forward and accomplishing even more great things, that's been eating at me. Gnawing at me actually. I feel it inside me, chewing away at my heart, where my passion lies. It was to the point where I thought, man let me go do something else with my life completely. I'm ready to throw it all away. I am.

And even though I've been slowly progressing out of that mind set for the past few months, particularly as I've transformed myself physically during my self-imposed exile from most things industry-related, it really took this simple– almost corny– Journey remake to really change my attitude and make me feel better. It's been reflected in pretty much everything I have done over the past few weeks. From the financial crisis and losing pretty much all my money, to different industry fuckery that is still going on, people beefing about checks and all sorts of dumb shit, and the way I deal with people, my attitude has been relatively positive. I mean, it was kinda positive before, but I just had this whole question in my head about what the fuck I been doing. Just the state of the bizness, makes you wanna get out so bad. It's just... shit is really terrible right now. It makes you wanna leave. And no amount of talking to myself and motivational books was helping me spin it into something that made sense.

I think "Don't Stop Believing" and a BMI royalty check that arrived a day later was like divine intervention. It said, hey man, don't stop. To believe is to live. If I stop, it's a wrap for me.

As I sat courtside at the Knicks game tonight (they got pummeled by The Celtics), with my man Will Roush (who I'ma make into a star, believe it), George Lamond's version of the song came on, sometime in the 4th quarter. The Knicks City Dancers were shooting T-Shirts into the crowd, and I thought of what it must be like to be a Knicks City Dancer. A small town girl, living in a lonely world, took a midnight train going anywhere... and ended up on the world's biggest stage, at Madison Square Garden. And a chill went over me. I haven't gotten a chill like that in a long time. It was goosebumps, literally, for the duration of the song.

Don't stop believing...

Jay-Z+Coldplay= "Jay-Z's The Scientist" DOWNLOAD THIS RIGHT NOW

2008-10-20T02:46:00.005-04:00

I confess, I'm late to the whole remixing Jay-Z thing. I wouldn't have even done this had it not been for Mick Boogie reaching out to me last week to let me know he was putting out a Jay-Z/Coldplay mixtape on Monday October 20th. Basically tomorrow.

When he asked me what Coldplay song I was interested in messing with, the first one that came to mind was "The Scientist." When I first heard that tune, years ago, it immediately grabbed me. The piano chords are really beautiful and introspective. It is one of my favorite songs.

I wasn't that motivated to blend it with the Jay-Z song "Allure," because I'm not that crazy about that song. It was one of the weaker tracks on The Black Album if you ask me. And I was never a fan of the hook on that track, particularly Pharrell's singing. It always bothered me.

So I figured let me do away with that hook, get Chris Martin in there to bless Hova with his vocals instead. I also wanted to keep the core piano melody intact, as well as certain aspects of the original song's arrangement, because it really is well done. I didn't wanna bastardize Coldplay's track by chopping it all to hell and making something that just doesn't even make sense on a musical level. What they did worked, and so I wanted to maintain and respect what they did musically. So here we are.

**** DOWNLOAD- "Jay-Z's The Scientist"*******

Feel free to download it, share it, do whatever. If you like it, let me know.

Or listen to it right here

I'm A Hip-Hop Producer, Seriously, What Job Am I Qualified For? Part 1

2008-10-14T00:05:00.003-04:00

I've never written about my experiences trying to land jobs before because, well, it just always seemed off limits to me. Plus the whole idea of having a job has always been kind of lame to me. I know, 98% of the world works, so why am I being such a spoiled prick? But let me explain for the 3 of you who actually read this blog.

Ever since I was a little kid, I was always in my own little creative world. While my brother spent his time studying and trying to ace every test he took, occupying his free time with generic things like playing baseball, I was pretty much left on my own, content to play with action figures, draw comic book characters, and make pause-record beats on my father's tape deck. I was multitracking before I even knew what a multitrack was. My father said that I had a great imagination.

Truth is, I was never really any good at any of the things I tried my hands at. And nobody ever really encouraged me to do these things either, I sort of picked them up on my own. But I kept trying. Playing with action figures, I created my own world in my bedroom. I read a lot of books, I was always into reading, whether it was comics or novels or whatever. In school, teachers were always enamored at my selections for book reports. I never really did all that well on them though. At some point, I ended up in classes for smart kids. I can't remember what the name of the program was, but it was for kids who were a little advanced. By the time I got to junior high, they removed me from that program. My attention had been diverted by hip-hop music, by hanging out with a rough crowd, and just generally being a bad ass. I have no clue why I slid into this sort of behavior. Maybe it was because my mother had left me and my father wasn't supervising me enough. He sort of let me roam free, and while I thank him for that now later in life, I can't help but wonder how things might have been different had he kept a more watchful eye.

Maybe I was spoiled. Actually, I know I was spoiled. I never asked for anything though. Never. If my father did something for me, it was on his own accord. If he picked me up from basketball practice for want that I not take the bus at a late hour, that was him just being a good parent. That was him doing what he didn't do during those dark years in junior high.

What he also didn't do was put the onus on me to get a job. Ever. He never really instilled a worker's attitude in me from the standpoint of actually working for someone else. Like, I never felt the need to go out there and get a gig, I always had my house to come back to. My father would take care of me. Typical 80s baby mentality. There was never the push, like my older brother got from my mother, to go out there and make something of myself.

See, while my brother slaved away at Rickel's selling seasonal items, and even opted not to play Varsity baseball so he could spend more time working, I used basketball as my crutch against not working. I couldn't work, I had to play basketball. My team needed me. I couldn't work, needed to practice, needed to be there for games, needed to be 200% focused.

The reality was, I was just fucking lazy. I could have worked. I could have made it work. I could have done all the same things I did in high school and still worked. It really wasn't until my senior year, after my basketball season ended and essentially my basketball career ended, when I decided that I needed a job. So I answered a classified ad and got hired at Sears in the Staten Island Mall.

I worked in the Menswear department, and in general, it was an OK gig. I really didn't have any problems working there except for the fact that Sears was considered really corny at the time, and working in their clothing section was sort of not the place to be.

Often times, while I was at work, I wondered about the people who worked at the store full time. Did they enjoy what they did? They were Sears employees. This was their life. Is this all there was for them? They seemed to be doing alright for themselves. I mean, you get a paycheck, and you support yourself with it, and that counts for something in this world.

I started college in the Fall of 2000 (wow, 8 years ago), and some time in late September I remember running into issues with working at Sears and going to school. I recall getting home from work late one night, studying for a Math test till the wee hours of the morning and then oversleeping the test. So I created some sort of excuse in my own mind, saying that Sears was affecting my schooling, and that school was the most important thing, so I needed to quit. I needed to quit because I needed the best grades possible. I needed to excel at school. Or so I thought.

I didn't work again for another two years or so. My next job was working as an intern with HRA for the City of New York, which my father hooked up for me. Looking back, my reasoning for taking the gig was probably just because it was there for the taking. It was something to do. The summer before, I literally spent my days like this.

11am-noon: wake up

noon- 3:30pm: fuck around on the internet, mostly on ughh.com's producer forums

3:30- 7:30: go to IS 51 and play basketball

7:30-9:00: come home, relax, eat dinner

9:00-12am: make beats

12am- 2am: chat with fools online, more time wasting on internet

2am-4am: make beats

Repeat next day

All in all, it wasn't a bad life. I was waiting around for school to start up again and I was learning to become a better producer, which is what I had my eyes on becoming in some sort of fantasy land dream sequence. Back then I was into making tracks for the art of it all, for the discovery of new sounds, of new ways to flip things. It was really a more explorative period. I didn't even know how to match a bass note to a sample yet. But it was fun nonetheless.

In that summer of 2001 though, working at HRA, I was bringing home something like $600 every two weeks, which was good because I was saving for something (get to that later). The program itself was, if I'm not mistaken, 11 weeks long. I remember the experience of working there vividly for a few reasons. One was that everyone who worked there seemed to be very sedative. People were just coasting along, it was like life didn't even exist to them. They went to work, clocked in and clocked out, and that was it. Also, there wasn't any air conditioning in the office. That was brutal. There was no internet either. That was horrifying. I also didn't have much to do. So I was basically sitting there wasting away for 11 weeks straight. I went in early so I could leave early, 7am-3pm. That way I'd be home by 5pm, while there was still some sunlight out, and I could maybe get out and play some ball or at least just do something.

I feel like my experience working with HRA deeply affected me and my attitude towards working. I was around these people who were literally lifers in the City agency world. They had 20-30 years in the system and were so morbid. The office looked like it was ready to be bulldozed. And there was nothing to do. I remember there being a mid-summer intern get-together, and I felt so out of place there. There were these people in this big conference room, all kids like me, and they were so happy to be working for the City, so happy to be getting this experience on their resume. I remember even getting into some little tift with a kid there, I can't remember specifically what about, but I do recall having to put someone in their place. It was in very poor taste, but I didn't know any better. I had a generally negative attitude by then about the whole experience. A chip on my shoulder, an arrogance almost, like I didn't need HRA, I could do better elsewhere.

What contributed to this was also the fact that my partner Cue was working in a recording studio down the block. It was called Music Factory Mix Studios, and was owned by Robert Clivilles, who was one of the C's from C&C Music Factory. Cue started as an intern, but within weeks he was running the joint. There were many high profile clients in during that time- DJ Clue, Fabolous, Murder Inc, The Fugees. It was a happening spot, and during my lunch hours I'd go by and check in with Cue. I'd come in my shirt and tie and he'd be in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. I wasn't jealous of him. I was happy for him. Him being in that situation inspired me so much, because for the first time all these stars were up close in front of me. Everything felt so easy to touch, so tangible. We had our little TMI Productions movement going, and I had this arrogance about the whole situation, how Cue should be in there pushing our material to these artists. I never really digested the whole business protocol, how you don't push your music on clients in a studio, but that's because my arrogance felt like, who cares about clients for a studio, we're talking about making or breaking our lives here. Selling a beat would push us forward. It never happened though. Still, the industry bug bit me. The life he was living, being in the studio 24/7, artists coming in and out, major label budgets within reach, women always around, I wanted that. I wanted in. I needed to get out of HRA and get into the music business, even more so than I had already planned. Now it wasn't an option, it was a necessity.

I remember this tremendous sense of freedom during that 12th week of summer, when the HRA internship had ended and my days were now free to drive around Staten Island and do whatever it is I felt like doing at the time. In reality, I wasn't doing much except checking in with my mother– who was sick with Cancer– and basically tying up loose ends before college started back up at the end of that week. The point was, I wasn't tied to a desk. I wasn't chained anywhere. I had freedom, I could move.

That sense of liberation followed me into my junior year of college. By then, we'd (the TMI clan) been doing an open mic event at this place called the Vive Lounge on the southern end of Targee Street. We weren't making a killing on the event, but it was bringing out a decent amount of people, and we were making some dough, and seeing that few hundred dollars being made in night was starting to make my eyes widen more than they already had. Plus people were beginning to know who I was, to know that I was a producer and I had some talent. See, by this time we had our recording studio up and running and we were making some bread. And even though it wasn't being run like a real business, just hustle money to pay Cue's rent with and whatnot, psychologically it had a deep effect on me. It made me pump my chest out a little more. Our debut CD, Statements Volume 1, was completed and it was out, no thanks to my investments in some CD Duplicators, some shrink wrap machines, and basically a bunch of tools that you use to manufacture product with. I was like a little warehouse in my bedroom. It was crazy.

I sold a few copies online at CDbaby.com, in fact whatever I shipped them sold out within a day or so. I wasn't keeping good accounting tabs on what was being spent on things, and I wasn't even trying to make my money back, so the checks that came just sort of collected dust. In fact, I think I even still have one, I never cashed it. The reviews that came from people online were great, everyone loved it. I'd built a community of friends and supporters over at ughh.com, and they were into the music. Things were good.

Somewhere around the end of that HRA internship and the beginning of my junior year in college, I told myself that my days of working were over– period. I was never going to have a job. That was it. I was going to be a producer, run my own studio, my own label, and that was going to be my life. I was not going to work for anyone, ever. That would be accepting defeat. That would be my way of allowing "them" to get the best of me, to allow them to make me a drone. I couldn't have that. I would do anything and everything in my power to avoid getting a gig, and make sure that my musical talents were the source of my income.

Rolando Brown and Josh Satten took me on for management as one of their first clients in the fall of 2002. Their company was called Brown Satten Management. Hey, at least it was a great name. And they had some really cool business cards.

There was a little weirdness to them managing me as a sole entity because Cue was my partner. But at the time, Cue was so wrapped up working at Music Factory that it looked like I was going to have to go it alone. And I mostly did. Cue was mainly an engineer at this point. He never really had the wherewithal to put aside that couple of dollars he was making as engineer for some sort of greater purpose. It was all about the money, and clients were offering it, so it was a no brainer. I can't hate him for that, even though in the grand scheme of things it was counter productive.

The Brown Satten situation went bust. I remember Josh spending a lot of time with me back then. He would come over on a Friday night and we'd end up at one of Mex's parties, then somehow someway drive out to Brooklyn so he could build with a promoter. He was driving the VP Records promotional vehicle back then, and that would get him into a lot of clubs. It was sort of an exciting time. We hung out a lot, at least for a few months. He became a good friend, truly what a personal manager is supposed to be. He'd come to the studio when I had sessions, Cue and I would beast on anyone and everyone to come through. Mostly, we were trying to get them to rhyme on my tracks. Mex would bring artists through to rhyme on my tracks as well. But the interest in original music was minimal. This was around the time when mixtapes began to get really big, and all rappers wanted to do was rhyme on instrumentals of tracks that were already out. It was pointless in my opinion, but they needed studio time to do these things, and so Cue ended up making quite a few clients out of our efforts. Eventually, Mex came into play wanting to manage me solo, and Josh felt slighted, and our relationship never really mended after that. If I recall, just a short time later he met a girl, got married, and had children. Go figure. Rolando and I remained cool as hell, there was never any real fallout with him over the situation.

The thing about all this is, all this wrankling was boosting my ego more and more. The fact that influential people (ok, just people) would take such a heavy interest in managing me, it made me feel good. It made me feel like I had something worthwhile that I was doing. That I had talent. And maybe I did. It was tough to tell, again, because back then all anyone wanted to do was record on other people's beats. I became sort of casualty of the environment I was in, and the artists who were available to me. My ego was bruised, I needed to separate myself from this pack of mixtape rappers.

While in college though, where I was hammering out a 4.0 damn near every semester, I was a different person altogether. Few people on the faculty knew about my extra curricular activities, but my swagger (god I fucking hate that term) was definitely increasing. I was still very heavily engaged in deep thought and writing, but by this time I was settling in to my major classes, and since these were all Journalism/Media classes, which aren't all that puzzling, things started becoming very routine for me. I wasn't really studying all that much and still managed to get straight A's, or something close to it. I had sort of mastered the art of going to school, it had become pretty straightforward to me. Not boring, definitely not boring. I was very into what I was learning. The only class I can remember being sort of disengaged from was "Principles of Editorial Design," which was a class that taught Photoshop and shit like that, and looking back I'm kicking myself for not paying more attention to that shit. I really have no clue why I tuned it out so much.

In the Spring of 2003, I had a Magazine Writing class with Frederick Kaufman, and that was a class I really enjoyed, but again, it was sort of routine for me at this point. There was this girl in the class named Simona (who I just found out is married by doing a quick little search on Myspace), she'd always chirp me on my Nextel and ask me to hang out or something. She was pretty hot in my opinion, and took some sort of interest in me, but we never really got to hanging out. I guess I was sort of inexperienced with how to go about things at that point. I was never really good with the casual going out thing either, still not. Those things never really mattered to me. It was in this Magazine Writing class where a lot of issues with me being a journalist started to arise. I never really admitted it to anyone, but this class challenged me a lot in terms of my personality. Intro to Journalism did as well, but this one had me writing an article on Staten Island hip-hop for my final project, and I was interviewing my friends for the article. This was a big issue for me, because I had to pocket this oversized ego I'd grown amongst my peers and become sort of spectator, writing about them when in fact they should have been writing about me. I didn't have some of stories they had, but I was more in the pocket, more the person to be talked to. But here I was writing the article. I was a part of this scene as a creator in my own right but had to write about it. It was tough and made me think about my future.

And think about it I did. In fact, that's all I did was think about it. I made no effort to get an internship anywhere. I had this internship form for the New York Post sitting on my desk for months and never got around to sending it in. It was clear that I didn't really want to be a journalist. I wanted to be in the music business. I went to the CUNY Media Conference in 2003 in some shmata shirt, a pair of baggy Enyce jeans, and sneakers. I had no style, no presentation, and furthermore, I just wasn't serious about working. For anyone. I just wanted to make tracks, get paid for them, and that be my life.

Though I was concerned about my future post-graduation, when my mother died in June of 2003, it made me put a lot of things in perspective. I really stopped thinking long term, put strategy to the side, and started focusing more on just making something happen. Also at the time, hip-hop was going through a big boom post-50 Cent, so everyone was making mixtapes and there was a lot of energy in the scene. As Phokuss, I put up the money and put out a group mixtape which was essentially just the solo guys from TMI Productions in one group. It was largely new music and got an incredible response from people everywhere. I thought we had something special with the group. These guys were talented, and when they were together they had a lot of chemistry which bled through on the tracks. They were friends and it showed. Of all the things I've been involved with in my life, that group was most special to me. I cherished that movement and the experiences that came along with it so much. I hit the streets with abandon, giving out mixtapes everywhere. Powder and I would come into Ihop at 3 in the morning on a Tuesday and give mixtapes to the people who worked there. We'd hit a diner on Wednesday. Maybe a club on Thursday, and so on throughout the week. It was non-stop grind, day in and day out. Thursday nights we were in front of Hot97 giving mixtapes to Kay Slay, because back then being on his show actually mattered. We would sleep at the studio, on couches, on the floor, wherever we could.

I was going so hard because I felt like the world was running away from me. Not nearly as much as I feel it now, but this was the beginning of that pit in my stomach, of never having enough time in the day and never doing enough. It was also a time of immense purpose. There was a method to the madness. It some Machavellian the ends justifies the means situation, where I felt like all these sleepless nights would eventually lead to some sort of greener pasture. I define this period as my "out" period, because I was always out at this point. I was always somewhere, doing something. Every night. Every day. There was never a dull moment. I was spending my last remaining dollars, thinking that somehow someway a check would come down on me and make things all better. That was a pipe dream.

But then it happened. I got a check for "Through My Rearview" from the Freeway/Ice City album, and everything was alright. Although this happened months later, it was the beginning of me sort of flirting with success as a producer in the music business. It was like, hey this could actually happen. I could actually make money from this if I keep going at it. But I also started writing for XXL, and my attention began to get diverted.

Check back in tomorrow for part 2.

Things That Make Life Great- Mid Day Visits From Parents

2008-10-13T19:28:00.003-04:00

I hear a lot of folks my age complain about their parents, like they're some sort of burden to them. That couldn't be any further from the way I feel about my father. That guy rules. The reality is, he and I don't physically talk much, we communicate on blackberry a lot. He'll email, I'll email back, just to keep one another aware of the fact that we're both still breathing. When he emails or calls on the weekend, it really doesn't matter what I have planned, I'll generally cancel what I'm doing to spend some time with him.

He emailed me earlier today, asking if I was free. I thought he meant for a phone call, so when he replied back to my "not busy" message saying that he was coming over mid-day, I thought wow, does he have off today? He did. It was Columbus Day. When you're self-employed, live alone, and hustling for dollars, it's easy for something like that to slip past you. It wasn't a day off for me. Money, knowledge, and creativity never sleep.

Some time around 2:30 he arrived, and we got to watching CNBC for what seemed like an hour straight, talking about the market fluctuation and all. Today was a big day on wall street, so we obviously had a lot to talk about. I found myself kind of getting lost in the midst of us just enjoying one another's company. It's father/son thing. In the back of my mind I felt that I had a lot to do, and obviously I did, but something about him being around put me at ease. Kind of like no matter what happened today, I'd get it done somehow. I guess that's what parents do for their kids, make them feel better.

Not that I needed to feel better. I mean, I was all good previously. But still, I really didn't give much of a fuck about anything during that time he was around. Just that conversation was enough for me. And maybe that's saying something, that the simple things like that matter a lot to me these days.

Social Network These Nuts In Your MOuth

2008-10-01T23:17:00.003-04:00

The internet makes me feel less relevant every day. And it's all because of social networking sites. I don't know if it's that people are spending way more time on these things, or if I just spend too little, but it's like if I'm not on Myspace or Facebook or [Insert current social networking site flavor of the moment here] all day long, nobody knows I exist. Unless, of course, I actually happen to pop up somewhere in real life, which is a lot less likely these days, because let's face it, time out and about is time spent not working, which is time spent unproductively, which is essentially just a waste of fucking time.

But seriously, with all these social networks, who can keep up. Beyond that, my business is not in the trafficking of meaningless social relationships with Myspace pages and Facebook pages of people who I don't even know. It's been a few years since these sites came on the scene, and while I admit that I have used these social networking tools for tracking people down for interviews and whatnot, I've found it very hard to conduct any real business with people I meet through these sites. I was making money selling beats to people online back in the year 2000. Back then, I'd post in discussion forums and things of that nature and eventually instant messenger names were exchanged and relationships were built from that point on. I was also in college at the time and in general had less things to do, so I was sitting in front of the computer more. That's not to say I'm not sitting in front of the computer a lot now. But it's different now. There's more pressure to use the time wisely, to NOT be sitting there posting random shit on a discussion board and having meaningless IM conversations. I think that there was even a point somewhere around 2002 when I just swore off the internet altogether in an effort to cure myself of what was then becoming an internet addiction. I thus put a block on instant messenger and stopped posting in online forums and discussion boards. And that's where a lot of my activity online ceased to exist. I've never been able to get back into it. The allure is pretty much gone. I use the internet as a productive tool only. Not a time-wasting one, except when I'm looking at prOnos (which is actually pretty often these days).

But I have come to grips with the fact that since I don't update my Facebook page 10 times a week, and I haven't changed my Myspace page in years, it's like I don't exist at all. Now I was reading something at Nytimes.com about how employers are spending more time looking at Linkedin.com and sites like that to determine who they hire. Wow. What the fuck have things come to? That sites like Linkedin could be more effective than just mailing a resume. We've officially crossed over. This sucks.

People are twittering like crazy. Because they want you to know what they are doing at all times. I have no use for Twitter. What am I doing? None of your fucking business playboy. Is there no such thing as a private moment these days? It's ridiculous. It's intrusive. But the fact that you feel sort of left out of the party, that's the worst thing about it. I feel like a guy making bicycles when the rest of the world is driving around in cars. A relic, if you will. Old school. And if I'm not doing something, apparently I'm a complete nothing, a failure. But are people just busy to be busy? Are they actually producing anything in the process? Is there some form of work being done, a contribution to society at large? I don't know the answer to that. I doubt it. And maybe that's the key, to reject all this bullshit and just stick to your guns. My brother spends 0 time on social networking sites, and he clocks in quite a bit of dough. He's always working. You work, you eat. Bottom line. You wanna fuck around online all day, you make money for the people who are trafficking in your page views. That's it. You get high off your own inflated sense of self worth by twittering your life away, facebooking every move you make, and taking myspace pics of everything, but the reality is, while you're doing that, someone is working. Diligently. Attentively. Productively. And they are getting one step closer to where they want to be, while you're content getting one step closer to letting the world know the truth. That you're just a big time waster.

Where Is The Art In What We Do?

2008-08-29T01:16:00.003-04:00

I happened to google the word "writer," and came across the Wikipedia entry for the term. Me being such a communications dude, I think a lot about words and what they mean, what they symbolize. For years I've stayed away from calling myself a writer (I usually stay away from calling myself anything, I am because I am) and here's why. From Wikipedia:

"In some circles, "Writer" has become a term of station and significance beyond its original meaning. Like the Platonic "Philosopher," modernists edged the Writer (along with the "Artist") beyond a mere occupation to a state of being, a prophetic and exilic stance from which to observe and critique mainstream society. Americans like Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, and Henry Miller found that they could become Writers only by leaving home and settling in expatriate communities abroad, especially in Paris. Writing thus became a transcendent act, a means to objective knowledge beyond the specific mores of particular societies and the point of departure for future movements and possibilities. For them, often, Writers are born and not made; as such, their whole being is taken to be infused with sacred purpose."

To me, I feel like there is an art to being a writer. Whether it's non-fiction or fiction, if what you do lacks an artistic element, a creative edge, something that sets it apart from just being words on a page, then you're something else. A journalist, a reporter, a blogger, the list goes on. I'm searching for the art in what I've had published in my career. Maybe on some levels there were some layouts I'd been involved with at Scratch, but that's like an overall editorial design issue. Perhaps some of the bios I've written for artists have had a more creative and artistic undertone to them. In a sense, I think even some of the blog entries I've done over the past year at XXLmag.com had an artistic quality to them, and I feel like my "All I Want For Hip-Hop Christmas" post on MTV.com was pretty creative. I'm sure there were some others.

And those are the moments where I actually do feel like a writer. Thing is, sometimes I feel like those moments are few and far between. That said, I wouldn't say there's an existentialism to those editorial efforts either. There's no higher power to it, my soul is not connecting to those words that are being transmitted on my computer screen via wireless apple keyboard.

But then I read something like The Great Gatsby, or Catcher In The Rye, ya'know, things we were supposed to read in high school, and I feel those words on the page. They're like paintings, the words creating vivid images in my mind as they move toward their impending climax. And I say to myself, that's something I'd like to do. I'd like to create high art. Even as a producer, I won't say I never opted for the simple okie doke track, but in my heart it was always just an effort to get to a place where I could truly be in the creative space I wanted to be. It was all a means to an end.

Sometimes I find myself writing an album review, and I'm writing it all high-minded, dissecting the musicality of the beats, describing the rhythm of the drums, the key of the melody, the mathematics of the arrangement. In essence, over thinking it. But to me, that's the beauty of even listening and critiquing it in the first place. I feel like there is an underlying artistic element to that type of critique, whereas when I have to dumb it down, not so much.

Maybe in that effort to attain this domesticity of artistic liberation, I was short-sighted, not cognizant of the almost never-ending journey that lay ahead. If at 20 young years of age I said to myself, "must dumb it down, so I can make enough money and establish enough credibility to sail off into the sunset," I wasn't fully aware that the trip would be years upon years upon years of work. I thought it would be much shorter. But now I realize that there is no "get in, get out." This is a life-long process. I'm at a point where I'm questioning whether it pays to stick it out, or just toil in that land of artistic freedom for the sheer fuck of it. Because you only live once, right? I'd like to call myself a writer and feel good about it before I die. And I do feel like I have those capabilities.

Plus it just seems sorta cool to live like Cormac McCarthy. Just writing for the art, not for the hype.

The Internet Is Fucking Corny As Shit Now

2008-08-28T20:20:00.002-04:00

I'm not saying this to be a dick or anything, but the internet just fucking sucks completely nowadays. I know you're thinking, with blogs being updated 24 hrs a day, and Twitter, and youtube, how could the internet suck? Well actually, that's exactly why the internet sucks.

My first exposure to the internet really happened in in like 1999 or some time around then. Other than getting to go online at my Aunt Sandy's house for like a few minutes, prior to '99 I don't remember having any experiences online. That was because I didn't have a computer, and didn't need one, because I couldn't type anyway. My brother came home from college with his slow ass computer and through his dial-up connection I was able to check out some sites like nba.com, yahoo, and some prOn (what i was really interested in).

Then in the summer of 2000, right before college, my father got me a Dell Dimensions desktop and an AOL membership. I remember, I worked at Sears in the Staten Island Mall that summer, and I used to get off work at 10pm, then come home and literally be online until like 3am every night, a trend which has continued till this day. I used to go in the AOL hip-hop chatrooms and talk to different folks under my original New York Knicks-inspired screenname, and I was also active on theDSC.com, a Wu-Tang Clan fan forum. I remember competing in different "keystyle" contests, this was back when I still rapped, and in general I just started spending a lot of time online. Then I started college, and I used to post on ughh.com's producer forums. They even made me a moderator at one point, that's how active I was on there. I had tons of friends online, whether it was from forums or chatrooms. I felt like I had an online life, which I did.

Then I started meeting people out in the world who I might have known from the internet, and it was cool as shit. I had a couple experiences with random folks, but one that i really remember was when I met my dude Ravage, who at the time was just starting to put in some legwork with this non-profit group called G.A.M.E., which was touted as a union for hip-hop artists. I went to a meeting, he and I met, and we became real cool. Things like that started happening more frequently.

I also didn't have that many friends during my first few years in college, I didn't really go out socially too much either. The College Of Staten Island was right around the block from my house, and I had a girlfriend, so I would just kinda keep to myself, make music and go online. I was really into being a student.

Then around the beginning of 2002, things started to change for me. Me and Cue finished building our studio, and we were making our initial foray into running a business, and just the whole idea of chatting online started to annoy me. Being online, period, just seemed sort of stupid. I had no time for that shit, I was busy making beats, busy recording people, busy with school, just busy with life itself. Then my mother fell ill, and I just put a block on my instant messenger altogether, cause peeps were starting to bother me with a lot of trivial shit. I was too caught up in the real world anyway.

And i stayed that way. Pretty much, at least.

In late 2003/early 04, my boy Rob was heavy into AOL chatrooms, and my man Rigz was into Blackplanet. They were online just to pull chicks off there. Somehow what they were doing looked relatively interesting, and I got back into it, but never at the level they were at. I mean they were beasting on that shit. I think i linked with one person, and then my ex girl friend. So it was short lived.

Next time I looked up, we had myspace, facebook, and the whole social media revolution... blogs, now twitter. When does it stop? People used to make fun of me because I had a the motorola accompli phone in 03, and I'd text people instead of call them. That I was so heavy into email. Shit I had gmail when it first launched, back when you had to get invited to the shit, it was still a beta. People weren't even on google like that back then.

Now I just can't get back with it. Since I signed up for my myspace account a few years ago, I've probably add requested a total of 100 people, left a couple comments here and there. But overall, it's so fucking boring compared to what the internet used to be. I mean, it was always kind of boring, but now it might be the fact that I'm online so much anyway that the thought of going on these sites just seems so stupid to me. I really can't get into commenting on blogs and shit like that either, because I spent all those years debating with people on forums and whatnot. And at the time, I guess with me being in college and all, and the fact that I was still generally kinda passionate about certain things, it was easy to get engaged in conversations online. Now, I don't feel like debating about shit. I don't wanna talk or discuss anything. Your opinion is your opinion, mine is mine, and that's where it ends. I stopped giving a shit about dialoguing on rap music as soon as I started getting more involved with it creatively, that's where my beginning a fan sort of ended.

I think it also helped that I got online in 2000, which was my freshman year in college and was also an election year, the one when Bush stole it from Gore. There was a lot to talk about back then. The information age was just started to rev up to speed, and the whole idea of dialing up to your internet connection plugged you into this sort of different world. I remember Professors giving out their email addresses, but we'd never use them. Now, I feel like I'd be blackberry messenging my professors at 10pm, asking them what's good. And lately I have felt compelled to discuss things with people online, there's a lot to talk about. It's just that by the time you get around to talking about it, the shit is old news already. The cycle moves so fucking fast, how can anyone keep up?

Now I'm getting invites from all sorts of not interesting people asking me to follow them on twitter, and I'm just like, what for? Fucking spare me. It's just out of control. Everyone needs to just chill the fuck out for a sec, be less social. Because really, it's just not cool at this point. It's overdone.

California Dreamin'

2008-06-20T06:11:00.003-04:00

If you've been privy to having a real conversation with me lately, you'll know that making a move out to LA has been high on my list of things to do. Just seems like the natural move for me. I'm kinda tired of New York, feel like it's the same ole thing day in and day out, and when you're in a creative business feeling that way, shit can't be too good. That's like the universe telling you it's time to move on.

Luckily through the help of some homies, I'm actually out in LA right now. Flew in earlier today, flight was damn near 7 hours, but I made it. Haven't really done much except drive around, eat at some overrated famous diner (can't remember the name, fuck), and go see The Incredible Hulk. Hulk was actually way better than I thought it would be. The CGI turned me off if in the previews, but in the film itself it wasn't so bad.

Tomorrow I'ma hit the studio. I gotta figure out a way to get my workout on, I'm determined to stay in shape while I'm here because I'm not 100% sure when I'm coming back. But I know I'll get it sorted out. Gotta hit the strip soon, the women out here are unreal. Plus the atmosphere itself. Soon as I touched down off that plane and saw the hills and mountains, I felt better than seeing those shitty ass buildings in New York. I'm really happy to be here.

Gonna also try to hit up the BET Awards next week.... let's see what happens.

Check in with ya tomorrow...

LL Cool J Working Out

2008-06-18T15:11:00.002-04:00

Shoulda known DJ Envy couldn't hang with James Todd Smith. Regardless of how I feel about LL's recent music (*snore*), that boy is in some serious shape. People been saying he got Botox on his face, and you know what, that could be true. At the same time, why is it such a big deal? The guy's a performing artist, not just in hip-hop, but in Hollywood. He's got to ensure that his face stays in as good a shape as his body, it's why people pay to see him in concert and on movie screens.

Anyway, I see him working with the perfect push-up, which damn near everyone has been telling me to get, and I actually saw in Sears yesterday and walked right by. That thing he's doing with the chains though is insane. He's suspended in air, holding himself up with chains, then he's got another 40 pound chain around his neck and he's doing sort of a modified dip/push-up. Crazy. Also, the sledgehammer exercise doesn't look that hard, and considering the fact that Envy was able to do it a few times, I'm sure it's not all that difficult. Other than that, it's just regular workout stuff- boxing, treadmill, bench. But consistency is key, and LL's been at it for years. So as you see, it's not rocket science, it's just him going in day in and day out and getting it done.

Casino Stuntin

2008-06-17T14:20:00.005-04:00

As you can see from my picture, I was in a casino this past weekend. It was actually Caesar's in Atlantic City. Got a phone call from an old friend on Saturday, she said her girlfriend had cancelled on an AC trip with her, was wondering what I was up to. Since I was about to hop into the barber chair and all, I figured let me make it short and sweet- nah, I didn't have plans beyond sitting in my apartment practicing keyboard (that's really what weekends are made for lol), and I was pretty much down for whatever. I suggested going to AC anyway, and a few hours later she arrived at my apartment, where I was just finishing up chatting with my mellow my ace Brendan Frederick about some new magazine ideas and some online TV show stuff that I've been dreaming up for the past few months.

Started driving, got caught in what seemed like a hurricane on the way, but eventually made it there like midnight. Gambled for a couple hours, lost some money, then decided it was time to head back. Got back in the whip, drove home. Stopped for directions one time, this fucking guy at a gas station started harrassing me, telling me he was an off-duty cop and that he could tell I'd had a few drinks (which was bullshit, because I was hardly drunk). He was busting my balls, saying he could arrest me, blah blah blah. I wanted to just satisfy his ego and get the fuck out of there so I made my friend drive for a while. She was less than pleased about the situation, but I didn't want any problems with any cowboys out there.

A couple thoughts on the whole night...

1) I miss driving... badly. If I could actually find a reason to use a car, I'd probably get one.
2) The chances of winning at a slot machine more than once are slim. Win at one, no matter what the payout, and move on to another.
3) Only play $5 slots, that's the only way you'll actually win any money that makes sense.
4) Hanging with old friends is sometimes better than hanging with new ones. I'm all for meeting new folks, but you can't beat a familiar face.
5) I'm glad I don't have the problems most people have. The hardest decision I have to make during the day is whether to add chicken to my salad.
6) I don't miss drinking at all. Had 2 jack daniel sours at Caesars, and because I haven't had a sip in like 4 months, it definitely went straight to the head. The buzz was cool, but overrated.
7) I view trips to Atlantic City and other places way different than other folks. For me, it was a drive to take there, and a drive back. Nothing more. For others, it's a whole weekend outing. Must be a music business trait.
8) When you don't know when the next check is coming in, gambling is not such a bright idea.

NEW Music- Christopher Anthony "Sunshine"

2008-06-11T23:21:00.004-04:00

This is a track my partner Christopher Anthony put together. It's a remake of Emily King's "Ain't No Sunshine," with his own unique Shallydo spin on it. I think you'll all enjoy it. Amidst all the weight loss talk, there is some hip-hop still going on. Check it out.

Christopher Anthony- "Sunshine"

Final Weigh-In On Fat Smash Diet= 197.8 pounds

2008-06-11T11:12:00.002-04:00

So that's it people, today is the last official day on the diet. It's actually been a couple more days than 90, but like I've said before, phase 2 started on a Wednesday for me, so I wanted to make sure the 11 weeks following the 9 day detox were carried out evenly.

My final weight is 197.8 pounds, down from exactly 200 last Wednesday. Although I must admit, my weight has varied throughout the week, and I've been as low as 195.

Total weight weight loss for the duration of Fat Smash Diet= 56.2 lbs

Since I'm not 100% where I'd like to be just yet, and considering the fact that I'm not having any trouble with the diet itself, I'm going to restart the Detox phase of the diet next Monday, just for good measure.

What's Your Inspiration?

2008-06-10T21:04:00.004-04:00

Mine is definitely not Young Jeezy, but shit I couldn't find a picture that could illustrate the thought of inspiration, so I had to run with it.

Since I posted that blog about reaching 199 pounds on the Fat Smash Diet, I've gotten a lot of feedback from different folks I know within the entertainment industry. It's been pretty random actually, considering I didn't really send that blog entry to that many people, and I hadn't been writing too frequently anyway. This internet thing, I tell ya boy.

Anyway, everyone has shown a lot of support, and while they don't comment (god knows why, I guess they aren't the commenting type), they do tell me they wanna try the diet. I say go right ahead! Hit me up if you have any questions, I encourage you to.

But here's the thing, the diet alone is not going to lose the weight for you. It's up to you, the person, to stay committed, stay disciplined, and keep yourself inspired enough to reach your goal weight.

What inspires me is how I feel when I wake up in the morning, how I feel during the day, how I feel at night. The energy I have is so great, and I don't ever want to lose that feeling. It's beyond weight loss at this point, like it was beyond weight loss after my first 9 days on the diet. It's a lifestyle change. It's about feeling better more than it is about hitting a certain weight (although that always helps).

People who know me know i'm a fan of words. The words I use to work this diet's magic are the following- Diligence, Perseverance, Tenacity.

Diligence because you need to keep working at it, and working at it hard.

Perseverance for those moments when you think you wanna give up, and you have to make it through.

Tenacity for the way you should treat your exercise.

I Sweat More Than Patrick Ewing This Weekend

2008-06-09T00:25:00.003-04:00

Man, the weather was brutal this weekend. It was something like 98 degrees on Saturday, and today I saw the temperature go as high as 96. But in actuality it was probably hotter than that, I'm just going by my glances at the temperature widget on my powerbook's dashboard.

That said, I went out in the hazy hot sun yesterday and played basketball for a couple of hours. It wasn't long before I looked like I'd jumped in the shower with my clothes on. Still and all, I had plenty of energy, and played a couple half court games. I wanted to play full, and truth be told there were enough people in the park to do so, but these flunkies were all scared of the heat and didn't want to wear themselves out. Pussies. It bugs me out how conservative cats get when the temperature goes above 90. This one dude, right in the middle of a game, he quit. He had enough. The heat got to him. Wow.

When I got back from playing ball I weighed myself. 195.8 pounds. Amazing.

After that I fell asleep on the couch for a little while. The phone kept ringing so I finally got up, ordered up a few movies on demand, and chilled for the rest of the night. I debated on going out, the fact that it was hot made it sort of enticing, because I knew the city was going to be nuts last night. But I just took it easy. Been doing a lot of that lately, trying to conserve my energy for the important things in life.

I spent much of Sunday in the apartment as well. I woke up around noon and hopped online to read some of the Sunday New York Times, and right as I started Glasses Malone hit me on instant messenger saying he was starting to work on a new album inspired by music from the 80s. He was looking for beats. Whatever he described to me sounded like something I had sitting right on my desktop, so I sent him this one track with Jay-Z sample that I been sort of sitting on. It's got a real 80s house music vibe. He loved it but wanted the Jay-Z sample taken off, and because I'd just 2tracked that beat into the computer I didn't have a version without Jay-Z on it. So I had to dig into the zip files for the sequences on my MPC, and lo and behold, I couldn't find them. So I pretty much had to remake the beat. What a pain in the ass. Anyway, I got it done, then started working on this other track that I had the samples chopped up for damn near two years ago. I pulled up the sounds and started reworking them, then put a whole track together. I'd messed with these samples a couple times in the past and never saved what I did, but I liked what I came up with today and decided to keep it.

In between all that, I went out and had some pizza. 2 slices of buffalo chicken pizza from A&S, to be exact. That pizza looked better than it tasted. I should have just gotten regular slices. The fresh mozzarella is sweet and creamy (pause!!!) but sort of annoying at the same time. I don't know, it just didn't go over so well in my opinion. Then I got some coconut ices, which hit the spot on a day like today.

Yes, probably not the healthiest choice of lunch, but fuck it. I'm allowed 2 slices of pizza twice a week on this phase of the Fat Smash Diet.

It was pretty late when I finished with the beat-making, so I just ate a bowl of corn flakes and called that dinner. Then around 10:45 I went out, ran to Clove Road and back to my apartment. Holy fuck, I don't think I ever sweat so much in my entire life. If yesterday it looked like I went in the shower my clothes on, tonight it looked like I was lost at sea for a month. I think I was so wet (pause!!!) that my skin started to get wrinkly like it gets when you stay in the shower too long. Every item of clothing that I had on- sweatshirt, t-shirt, shorts, boxers, socks- was literally soaked, like with water dripping off them as I moved. That's what running in this type of weather will do to you.

Still and all, I just took a shower and now I feel great. Kinda tired, bout to hit the sack (pause!!!).

Oh yeah, saw Don't Mess With The Zohan on Friday with Rolando and his girl Sarah. That shit was funny as hell.

It's going to be in the mid 90s tomorrow, who's running?

2008-06-06T16:35:00.003-04:00

So the weatherman is predicting 94 degrees tomorrow, 97 on Sunday. Too hot to run? Fuck that. I'm trying to hit Clove Lakes park mid afternoon for a couple laps and then the basketball court for some full court games. I hadn't ran a full in maybe a year or two until like two weeks ago, ran something like four games at IS. 51. Man, it felt like the old days out there, getting up and down that court with no problem.

Hopefully I don't pass out tomorrow, cause I got a feeling it's going to be brutal. A few tips from Coolrunning.com.

Slow down early – The later you wait to slow down, the more dramatically you’ll slow down at the end and the longer it will take to recover from the run. Walk breaks, early and often, help you lower the exertion level, which conserves resources for the end and reduces heat buildup.
Wear lighter garments – Loose-fitting clothes allow heat to escape. Don’t wear cotton clothing. Sweat soaks into cotton, causing it to cling to your skin, increasing heat buildup. Several materials will wick the perspiration away from your skin: Coolmax, polypro, etc. As moisture leaves your skin, you receive a cooling effect, and these types of materials are designed for this
Pour water over yourself – Up to 70 percent of the heat you can lose goes out through the top of your head so regularly pour water over your hair (even if, like me, you are hair challenged). Regularly pouring water on a light, polypro (or a similar material) singlet or tank top will keep you cooler.
Drink cold water – Not only does cold water leave the stomach of a runner quicker than any type of fluid, it produces a slight physiological cooling effect – and an even greater psychological cooling effect. But don’t drink too much either.

Be Honest, What Did You Eat Today?

2008-06-05T17:44:00.003-04:00

Oh, what I wouldn't do for a donut.... *cue Homer Simpson drool*

That's actually a picture of Krispy Kreme's whole wheat donuts, as if them being whole wheat makes them any better for you. Hey, it's whole grains, so it will only get a little less clogged in your arteries! Fuck outta here.

At the end of most days I try to just sort of mentally make note of what it is I ate throughout the day. I don't actually note it down, cause it's not like I'm a writer or anything. But I try to just see if I ate anything that was particularly bad for me, and nope, I can't say that I do. Today alone (mind you, it's almost 6pm), I've only eaten a bowl of Corn Flakes for breakfast with a cup of coffee, and I just had a grilled chicken salad that I made myself (thank you George Foreman). On an ordinary day I'd probably have eaten a piece of fruit or two by now, but since I woke up at something like 2pm cause I live such a care free life like that, obviously I've only had time for the two meals. I'll probably have some steamed vegetables, brown rice, and a buffalo burger (sans the bun) for dinner. That's if I even eat dinner, which for the past two weeks or so I haven't been doing so much of. I just haven't gotten around to cooking, so I eat another bowl of cereal and call it a day. Not the healthiest thing in the world, but what can ya do.

What's ill is how I see people- some of them friends of mine- who eat like Tony Soprano. Meaning, they eat dinner 5 times a day. It's like they have bottomless stomachs, they never get full. Turkey egg and cheese with hash browns or home fries for breakfast, with a snapple or coffee. Cookies for dessert. Chinese food for lunch. Some chips for a snack. Then a sandwich for another snack. Then pizza for dinner, washed down with a big 20 oz. Coke. And they do this every day. How? Well actually it's not that hard, I've done it myself at times. But eventually it catches up to you.

So as much as I say I'd love to have a donut, the reality is I walk past dunkin donuts and country donuts every day (they're both a block away from me), and I never get anything. Maybe a coffee at most, but even that's rare because I rather brew my own. I never thought it'd be so easy to turn down junk food, but it's amazing how I don't even think about it anymore. It's like once the sugar is out of your blood stream, the cravings are gone. I do think the more you take account of what you eat, like where you actually write it out and analyze how unhealthy it is, the more opportunity you have to see just what you should eliminate. So ask yourself, what have I eaten today?

Don't Lie, You Decided To Ignore My Fat Ass From 2 Blocks Away

2008-06-04T21:26:00.005-04:00

One of the craziest things about losing weight is noticing the little nuances of how the outside world reacts to this new version of you. When I was about four weeks in on this diet, I'd dropped something like 25 pounds, and while the weight loss wasn't incredibly noticeable to people who didn't see me everyday, I was definitely more svelte and overall just a bit smaller and less imposing. I'd be on the train and out of the corner of my eye I'd notice someone staring at me. I might look back at them, and in the past they'd look away, but now their gaze remained steady, and we'd match eyes for a moment. It could be a girl or a guy, it didn't matter (pause!), it was more the principle of it. I'd walk into a store and instead of being greeted by any scowl from the person behind the counter (as in, "What the fuck do you want from me, fat boy?"), they'd now smile and be happy to deal with me. Even in my building where I live, I rarely had many conversations with other residents, but now I was noticing that everyone who passed me in the hallway had a word or two for me. Everyone wanted a moment of my time. Nothing crazy, but just being more friendly. I guess a red head fella weighing in at an imposing 250+ pounds doesn't look too friendly. A little thinner version of that guy does though.

The biggest change I noticed was when I was walking on the street. I admit it, I pretty much look at every one on the street. I'm an observer when I'm out in public. I watch people from distance, see how they move, how they're gliding down the street as they're walking in my direction, how their arms sway back and forth, the gate in their stride, and then I notice whether they lift or turn their face for that brief second where we can make eye contact. Before I lost this weight, very few people would look at me in that brief second. I chalked it up to being a New York thing, people are just too busy to pay attention to others. But not really. It's not that people don't pay attention, it's that I wasn't catching anyone's eye. Or at least not in a positive way.

And then I had to give it some thought. When I'm observing people, their could be 20 people on the street, and my eyes scan what's available to look at and I subconsciously just pick whatever it is that catches my attention, usually a hot chick, if there's one available. I wouldn't be a guy if I wasn't looking, bottom line. The fact that my eyes disregard everything else says a lot about the way my brain works, and I think it's the same for other people.

It's not that people weren't looking at me before. No. It's that they saw me from two blocks away, assessed me for what I was, and decided to disregard my fat ass!

It's all good, because like I said, I do the same, and when I was some big fat schlub I'd have ignored me too. From two blocks away I can see what's what and sort of make that decision in my own mind that I'm going to focus on the most eye-catching person in this throng of people walking around. If that happens to be some bad bitch, then that's just what it is. It doesn't always have to be that way, just saying.

I think we need to just get this whole idea out in the open though. Let's not pretend like we don't size people up via their looks in like two seconds, or as I'm pointing out, two blocks away minimum.

What do you think, does this idea hold any merit? And if you've lost weigh and reintroduced yourself to the world at some point, did you notice a difference in how many eyes now look at you as opposed to before? I know I do.

Say Goodbye To The Big Guy

2008-06-04T16:10:00.004-04:00

One of my biggest pet peeves when I'm out in public is when someone calls me "Big Guy." Like, "Hey, Big Guy, what can I get you?" I think that's the most impolite shit someone could possibly say to another person. If I said that to a female, like "Hey, Big Girl, what can I get you?" There would be hell to pay. But guys get away with it for some reason, because there's this social more that has been passed down from generation to generation that made it cool to be a big guy. Think of the guy from the Brawny Paper Towels. At one time, people wanted to look like that guy! Or at least have their paper towels be strong like that.

But seriously, I'm not really sensitive about much in life, particularly the way people speak (have you ever heard the way I talk? I fucking curse more than Eddie Murphy), but when I walk into a health food restaurant I don't expect the guy behind the counter to call me Big Buy. I think that's in poor taste, particularly in a health food restaurant. The one I usually go to is down the block from me, called Healthy Grill, in St. George, Staten Island. It's like right up the steps from the Ferry on Stuyvesant. It actually opened recently, I want to say something like three months ago. But all in all, I think the language you use when you speak to customers is so important to making them feel welcome, feel good, and want to come back for more. Fuck the food. The food should be good, bottom line. If you make something decent, half the battle is won. Now win the other half, treat the customer right.

All in all, I hate being looked at as a Big Guy. I know the guy behind the counter can't help but call me that (at least for now he can't, while I'm still well, sort of a big guy), but soon he'll be singing a different tune, as I continue my drop in size. I no longer want to be looked at as a big dude, which I will elaborate more on in a post soon to come.

FAT SMASH DIET- 55 pounds lost in 12 weeks... have you seen the new Gooch yet?

2008-06-03T21:16:00.005-04:00

You see what that says? 199 pounds mothafuckas!!!! I weighed myself at 254 lbs when I started the Fat Smash Diet on the morning of March 10th. Here I stand, in the middle of my 12th week on the diet, 55 pounds lighter. Up until a few weeks ago I was tracking my progress on the forums over at FatSmashForum.com, but since people stopped responding to my posts I just stopped writing. Plus I got in contact with Dr. Ian Smith's office directly (he's the creator of the diet), and that was satisfying enough. I just needed someone to hear about my success, and if you've seen me out lately or talked to me on the phone or via IM, you know I've been probably chatting your ear off about this weight loss and diet program.

Anyway, last week my treadmill broke and that was a real downer for me. I'm used to getting that runner's high now, and I really need to run 6 days a week for me to feel right. Plus I run twice a day. So not having the treadmill was going to be a big loss. Instead, I hit the stairs in my building, running the 6 flights twenty times consecutively. Additionally, at night I would walk from my apartment in St. George to my father's house in Graniteville, which is literally a 6 mile hike up Victory blvd. Then, on Sunday, I felt like I needed to get this runner's itch taken care of, so I just ran that 6 miles to my father's house. I woke up tired as shit the next day, but felt good. So I did it again yesterday, this time running from my apartment to Clove Road and back (beats waiting for the bus).

Anyway, it's like the middle of my 12th week, and because week #2 after the 9 day Detox period started on a Wednesday, I'm going to run this bad boy out until next Wednesday, so tomorrow is the official weigh in day. I just couldn't wait. Oh, I got the belt I needed to the treadmill, and I fixed it yesterday, so I hit the mill earlier today, and man did it feel good to have my baby back up and running.

I know I haven't written diddly squat in the past few months, and guess what, in that time I've actually seen Juno, go figure lol. Point was, I set a goal for myself at the beginning of this diet, told myself I would get down to my healthy BMI weight of 185 lbs. But since I was at 254 at the time, and quite honestly I feel like even that number was being conservative as I probably weighed even more than that, I knew just getting down below 200 lbs was a pipe dream. I'd started so many diets in the past and slacked off of everything, no discipline whatsoever. I didn't have high hopes for myself with this, but after losing something like 10 lbs in the first 9 days, I knew this diet and exercise regimen was for real and that I needed to stick with it.

I can't express the joy and happiness that I feel right now for being below 200 lbs. I don't think I have been less than 200 lbs since my senior year in Port Richmond High School, and if my memory serves me correctly I think I was even more than 200 pounds back then. I know at one point during my junior year, when I played varsity basketball, I had gotten a real bad case of the flu and dropped to about 175 pounds. But that summer from junior to senior year I gained a lot of weight and was over 200 lbs. Now I'm sure at some point I lost some of the weight and got below 200, but once I hit college I ballooned. I even got my college ID from CUNY CSI right next to me, which I got when I was 18 years old in September of 2000, and I'm looking at it and I look huge.

I remember this girl Tenisha, who I sort of had a thing for back in high school (she was a year older than me and thus graduated before I did), saw me some time in the early summer of 2001 (during my freshman year in college), and I remember the first words out of her mouth were, "Wow, you gained weight." Which I did. I'd become a fat fuck. Now I couldn't even beat it like I wanted to. Fuck!

Some time around late 2003, during my senior year in college, I hit the gym pretty hard for maybe two to three months and dropped from something like 225 or 230 to 214. That was the lowest point, and that was while taking Hydroxycut. Now after I left my house in spring of 2004, I wasn't able to go to the gym as much, plus my gym buddy Robert Manning went away to the army and he was a real inspiration to me because he'd lost something like 70 lbs. Now he was gone and hitting the gym was becoming inconvenient, and I was running up in record label offices all day and by night in the studio. So it got hard to keep up the cardio, but I didn't really gain any weight. That is, until the fall of 2004 came around, when Cue bounced to Florida and we got the rid of the studio and I became very sedentary. Plus I was eating fast food every day (Matt Fingaz and Roy Rogers is a bad combination), so I blew up like a balloon again. Probably gained 15 pounds back real quick. And my confidence sort of dropped, I stopped wanting to go out and be social as much as before.

I pretty much stayed that weight until August of 2006, when I started the late nights at Lifestyle Studio. Fucking Adam Santiago and his damn Dominos Pizza orders at 2am! Plus I was hitting the store off the Clove Road exit on the highway at like 4am, eating mad turkey sandwiches on bagels and breaded chicken fingers and all kinds of other dumb shit. When I went to LA in September of that year I took a few flicks and looked like a fucking stay puffed marshmallow man.

Which is when I decided to buy a treadmill. That was early December, 2006. Went to Sears with my pops, copped a Nordic Track for like 700 bucks. I started going hard on it in early January- after Elana had lost like 40 lbs in a college semester and was looking like a top model. I needed to step my game up. Hit the treadmill and was watching what I was eating for around three months, lost 13 pounds or so, and then I just started to get sick pretty regularly. I think it was that fucking Harris Publications office, so much dust in that place. Every three weeks I was coming down with some shit and it kept throwing my workout schedule off. Plus my back was hurting a lot, not knowing at the time that it was from my lack of stretching beforehand.

Then I moved to St. George, and worked out every now and again but didn't really watch what I ate. So I didn't lose much weight. Maybe 5 pounds total. This whole time I was floating somewhere around the 255-260 mark. I wasn't eating poorly per se, just not great. Too much white bread, too much ice cream, too much white rice, too much late night eating, portion sizes too big.

Around my birthday, February 3rd, I went out for a night on the town. A rare occasion if anyone knows how I get down these days. A day later my back was killing me. I couldn't even enjoy a day with my brother and father because I was in such poor health. Writing that god forsaken Sucker Free Blog for MTV and the Scratch blog for XXLmag.com had me sitting on my ass a good portion of the day. I'd become too sedentary, and again when I decided to work out I wasn't stretching. I recall missing a meeting at MTV, and considering that I never miss ANYTHING, I decided this was the last straw.

In 3 months time my back had gotten fucked up twice to the point where I was in bed for a week each turn. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to lose weight, and fast. I needed to reclaim the inner Gooch. The guy who used to run the basketball court non-stop guarding a team's best player, the dude who used to be able to dive for a loose ball and then get back down the court for a lay-up on the other end. I needed to be me again. No more excuses, no more telling myself it was the music business doing this. Nothing else should matter except this, getting in shape.

And so here I am. Back to a manageable weight, not looking like some big fat doofball (did anyone see that picture of my big fat ass and Grandmaster Flash from mid-November 2007? Oh god, shoot me), and on my quest down to 185 lbs. Considering that I lost something like 16 pounds in the month of May alone, I do believe I will be at 185 rather quickly. Perhaps by the first or second week in July. Who's the man?

I haven't seen Juno...

2008-02-24T23:33:00.001-05:00

... and I don't plan to. NOTHING looks good about that film.

I HATE gossip bloggers...

2008-01-30T01:49:00.000-05:00

I gotta confess to this, i fucking hate gossip bloggers with a passion. Why? Because they're just so fucking pointless and irrelevant that it's beyond me why anyone even pays attention to them in the first place. Granted, I write two blogs- one for MTV and one for XXL- but very rarely do I contribute to the gossipsphere unless I have to. Meanwhile there's an entire industry built on this bullshit- national enquirer, new york post, hip-hop weekly, etc.- and none of these folks ever really get it right. They simulate the real world in that they sit on the sidelines and talk about other folks' lives while those people go ahead and actually do shit. But the gossip bloggers take it to the next level. These assholes post up absolute bullshit online and people run with this stuff like it's the actual truth because it exists somewhere in cyberspace. Nevermind the fact that most of these people can't write for shit, now I notice a lot of them are actually touting themselves as journalists and/or objective news sources. What the fuck??!?!

I'm sorry, sitting around and staring at RSS feeds in google reader does not make you a journalist. That makes you a blogger. See if you can pitch an article that is relevant to an audience that actual pays for what they read. Then see if you can pack an entire news article, complete with actual facts, primary and secondary quotes into 250 words or less. If you can do that consistently, I will tip my hat to you.

But posting audio and youtube clips does not a journalist make you.

It's sad that this is what the game has come to, where there's more money in blogging than there is in actual publishing. At least for urban music, that is. But fuck it, I'ma get it while it's there to be got. Just don't expect much contribution to the he say/she say nonsense from me. I care about my own life too much to give much of a shit about who's fucking who or who said this about this one or that one.