The life of an Afrogeek monk

I’m contemplating it. Not the lack of sex, to hell with that noise. I’m just saying I’ve been spending way too much time thinking about everyone but the Me, myself and I. The turntables, drum machine and Korg have dust on them, the novel looks like the last forgotten pile of detritus on a forgotten planet headed for the blazing sun of obscurity, and the death pangs of my brain reverberate with the sadness of the ancients. “I’m a hustla Homie, you a customer, cronie.” That used to be my line. But I keep linking up with folios who do not have the hustler spirit in them and as a result feel mine getting drained. But on the solo, doing what I love in the way that I love it, I’m like Rza in this piece; I’m the lone wolf sans cub, wolverine on a solo mission, Biz marke without the drum machine.
And so it’s back to the known. Nose to the grindstone hardcore solitary art of geekdome transmogrified by the resources to make the tardied seem spicy. Back to the essentials, the beans and rice of it, the old school chucks with duct tape keeping them from talking, you know my steez. Of course you do because you frequent this blog on the regular, you check it daily and send up mad prayers of hate when there’s nothing new on it. You laugh at the jokes and wonder where a kid is at whenever those of the negoridal persuasion do something super fly or just questionable. No one had to explain to you what an afrogeek was because you are one, grew up with one, humped one or was humped by one. You know its an irreplaceable style and you want to taste its flavors. Well guess one, when my dome is on tight, its by beans and rice so expect more from me.
Such as Mash it.com. No for real. Download the Dj kowalasky mix and move your ass like Bobby Brown was on it…

Ok see, someone just sent me an I.M that explains my lifelong reluctance to fuck with the unwashed masses. CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME HOW SOLDJA BOY IS NOMINATED FOR A GRAMMY WhEN HE CAN’T EVEN SPELL HIS NAME RIGHT?

And if anyone writes in that he’s a young man who did all his beats on a laptop and how great that is, please also include a mailing address so I can send you a full on slap across the face. Just because he made a crappy album and put it on youtube does not make him worthy of a Grammy. Oh wait, I forgot, the Grammies sold out on talent decades ago so maybe it does. I’m pretty sure I posted my rage about “It’s hard out here for a pimp” being performed in front of poor old Sidney Poiter, not to mention being nominated for a Grammy last year, didn’t I? After that I sounded like Uncle Ruckus for a good week. I feel some anti negro sentiments coming up in me again.
My antidote for this depressing news is as follow: Watch the above video for as many times as your funny bone allows, then listen to Santogold, aka, my new reason for listening to music. This track makes me touch myself.
I’m back fam. And I have powers!