Tag Archives: hope

Mar 23 2021

Peter and The Chicken.

You ever felt impending doom? Not the anxiety-based one that isn’t connected to anything, but I mean, real, actual, I’m-going-to-die-and-it-may-really-happen kinda shit. Being in a pandemic and you know, staying in the house and being very choosy with where I decide to take risks (I’m no gambler), gives you a lot of time to think. This COVID shit has been horrifying, and I am thankful me, my direct family and my friends have survived it, although I have lost some loved ones. But, I’m always close to dying. I’ve been there so many times in my life, that one would think it would change my outlook, maybe make me less abrasive, maybe value my days better, but no, not really. I know this life shit is fickle and fragile, and it makes me laugh to myself in confusion, every time I think about it.

Way back in late 2009/ early 2010, my college (yall know where I went) was having REAL issues with the neighborhood we were in. A lot was going on: Students were getting robbed and assaulted by local residents(and really, thats a product of a big ass school buying up your culture-filled neighborhood and pushing the people out), my friends were getting into beefs that turned very serious, one of which directly included me, someone got stabbed up in a fight right outside of my apartment window, we had become numb to hearing gunfire when we went to parties. Things were, in all reality, very fucked up. I say this after nearly being killed by campus police just 3 years earlier; this was as bad as things had ever been down there. And I really did think I was going to get killed before I graduated, because my understanding of the universe was based in “chances.”

You are going to have brushes with danger; I had been lucky over, and over, and over, and I knew that shit was gonna run out one day. You can lie to and play with everyone on this Earth; you cannot bullshit the universe. If you know in your heart of hearts, that just being out and about when things are so tense, can raise the chance of you being harmed, you are either bullshitting, the way you operate needs to change. So I laid low, but even with that me and my boy, who I love to this day, had to dip out of a party and sneak back to my apartment because someone in there wanted to shoot it up, because he saw us in there (over a money beef I inherited, just because I was present). Literally looked at us, then told the party he was gonna clap the shit up. Then we had to watch for him circling the block, after we dipped. That’s what I was doing in 2009 and 2010; trying to not die. After just barely not dying in 2006. Before I was walking around the Bronx in the dark in 20111, regularly, trying to get to my GF’s house in a hood where no one knew me but her, knowing I was pushing it every time I did this shit. Then wanting to die in 2015, while in the pits of depression. Then ACTUALLY having to rush my parents out of a house fire in 2020, while trying to also not get killed by COVID. I’m always dodging death; I never stopped.

I had been distracted enough to believe trying to get through COVID was something that was beyond me, but it wasn’t, I’m always trying to outrun some shit. The way I feel between vaccine shots (I already got my first) makes me feel the same way I did when I was running through the dark in Norfolk, hoping we weren’t being followed. The way I felt staring out of my bedroom window, not knowing someone was going to get stabbed in the middle of the giant mob. The way I felt when my homegirl hit us up hysterical, because there was a dead body in front of her college crib, on a back block. The same way I felt watching my childhood home, with smoke coming out of all its windows as the basement got reduced to cinders, hoping the house wouldn’t explode. Some foul shit is always around the corner, but I haven’t known it any other way, for a very long time. The fact that something as joyous as getting vaccinated could remind me of how close to the edge I’ve been, says a lot about how I see things. I got the first shot, I was happy for about an hour, then I got sad, thinking about how paranoid I’d be until my second, and how taxing all of this has been to live through. I also got wrapped up in how weird this whole experience has been, but I’m just…surviving. I don’t think it’s particularly brave, or valiant; I’m just alive, and I appreciate that.

I will be fine, because I know I will be. But, I know the reality of things. I know how shit can go wrong. Me understanding how things play out, and how poorly they can go, is why I think so well on my feet. That’s all I ever had; being in situations where I had to make the right choice or die, be it literally or metaphorically. People who love you can say whatever they want, you can put on whatever facade you feel like showing off, none of that shit matters. In the moment of truth, I’m going to do what I have to do, because I need to, and you better do the same. I’ve done so, many a time, and I know that a lot of things in this life are predicated on split second decisions. I take solace in that, but living in the pandemic has shortened my fuse; I’m not patient, I don’t like wasting time on bullshit anymore, I find it frustrating when someone’s head is in the clouds, I can’t stand when people don’t say what they mean. Our time is limited, and my hourglass nearly emptied one too many times to play. I can’t stand indecisiveness in big moments, and that’s partially because of jealousy; I didn’t get to bullshit in those moments, because I would have died, that innocence was stolen from me a long time ago. Thankfully, I did survive all this shit, and I get to give life another go with each new day, as I try to give more than I take.

May 2 2013

Canal Street.

   I was on the train sometime earlier this week. This huge Latin dude with long , shaggy black hair and burlap sacks as clothing came into our car. If you’re a New Yorker, homeless people on the train asking for assistance is nothing new. I see people all over the car go into their “omg its a homeless dude” routine. Some fake sleep (the extremely fly white girl 10 seats away) , or suddenly pretend their reading material is SUPER interesting. He was really loud and usually this annoys me; I was at ease that day for some reason. By the time he comes over to me , I dig in my pocket for change. As soon as I reach into my jacket , I remembered I have a bag of Lays(PRODUCT PLACEMENT) Potato Chips in my pocket. I felt guilty for even having the chips , as I’m a fake healthy young goon. I nervously croak out to him “hey…hey…I have some chips! You want em?” “That’ll work!”. I hand the bag to him and he takes it graciously and ambles further down the aisle. He comes back and plops down noisily in the seat across from me. I noticed an older Jamaican woman in nurse garb look at him like he was the ASSIEST of assholes as he POPPED the bag open. She kept staring as he chewed. I moved on from the scene.
    He eventually gets off. A well dressed older white dude take his seat. This whole scene and experience kinda touched me. The train is the great equalizer. Everyone from the established(or those who look it) to people who don’t know where they’re sleeping tonight…all in one place. We all have somewhere to go; coincidence(destiny?) put us on the same route.
   Really , seeing the homeless dude and giving him the chips reminded of an experience I had in 2011. I was fresh out of college , on the way to my internship at Power 105. I was BROKE as shit and relatively miserable. I was glad to have the opportunity to be in the building with all of those talented people, but I had no job. They were doing well ; I was struggling. There’s almost always a person with a cart with food on it on my train. They start explaining their doing it for anyone in need and they’ll appreciate donations etc etc. I didn’t really pay attention. Next thing I know? The person with the cart rolls up to me and offers me food DIRECTLY. Just me. No one else.
    I was SUPER embarrassed and I never get embarrassed. All I felt was anger. I quickly said “Nah , I’m good” and then had to refuse again ; they kept pushing the sandwiches and snacks on me. I hid how i really felt and somehow stayed respectful. I could feel other people’s stares ; I felt even dumber. I didn’t need food but something about my energy bought that person to me.
    I was definitely in need ; I had no money but that wasn’t what I was really lacking. I needed hope. I needed signs that chasing the dream was “right”. I didn’t get it that night or even that month. I don’t fully have that now. I’d like to believe I’m on the right path but I don’t have much to show for it yet.
So I’ll just have to ride along until my stop arrives.
Mar 28 2013

Ten Days to listen to #10Day.

Now , I was pretty late to the party.

I first heard Chance on Childish Gambino’s “They Dont Like Me“. I was impressed by the rhyme scheme he decided to go with and how crazy his voice sounded. He held his own and did what he had to do on there. Didn’t think much past that.

I managed to catch the “Juice” video a few months ago late one night (I’m always up late yet fall asleep very easily) and thought “this is sorta interesting.” Admittedly , I wasn’t super impressed but immediately thought dude can rap , I’ll revisit this.

Fast forward a BUNCH of months and its March. I’m getting ready to head to my second annual dose of “SXSW teach me things about life”. I typed in my Notes app “LISTEN TO CHANCE THE RAPPER”.  10 Day is Chance’s debut mix tape, which he recorded after a 10 day suspension from high school. In pure cool guy fashion , I couldnt get to Chance’s tape unless I listened on the plane. As I took that good “middle seat on a 4 hour flight” loss, I settled in and finally hit play.

What a great decision , Robby.

First off , my mind is blown that he’s this young (19 years old as I write this) and this confident. #10Day clearly feels like he did whatever he wanted to. There’s no fear , no sense of holding back his creativity.  His beat selection is good , he can actually put coherent words together , he’s descriptive, he sings and most important of all??

He’s happy and serious all in one breath.

Happy ass rap annoys me and makes my skin crawl. Thus if you hand me a B.O.B. cd….just call me Uncle Rico. The thing is , Chance is happy about life and shows hope but is no stranger to the darker parts of life. He makes them both work seamlessly in a world where all the big rappers are extremely moody. I love some moody ass rap….because I’m sort of a dark dude (SKIN JOKES SKIN JOKES!) , but that burns you out. Chance is just…refreshing.

Every time I hear this song I grin. Does this not just sound like a HS crush at a sweaty basement party your mom would probably kill you for attending? It’s just fun. Everything from the catchy bars and the carefree energy to how easily Chicago juke/footwork music is worked into the song. It’s perfect for what it’s supposed to be. Chance is a young kid having fun , which we all are at heart (or what we should try to be.)

Then you have a song like “Acid Rain” off of his upcoming tape Acid Rap.

My big homie died young; just turned older than him
I seen it happen, I seen it happen, I see it always
He still be screaming, I see his demons in empty hallways

Jarring.  To hear someone just clearly rap about being haunted by visions of a murdered friend says so much. I immediately knew Chance had quite a personal story of his own to tell. He comes off as somewhat of a tortured soul with lots of talent. Aren’t we all tortured souls? The thing is , we won’t all turn that strain and suffering into art. He spends the duration of Acid Rain rapping about the darker realities of being a Chicago teen , even with his newfound and building stardom. Self doubt , fear of the future; things any 19 year old has come face to face with. Chance chooses to go that route and is never preachy. It’s just…real. He gets vulgar like anyone else but it nothing like the drill music from the likes of a GBE.

Which is another interesting thing about Chance. He has shouted out Chief Keef on multiple occasions , even leading a “SOSA FREE!” chant at SXSW on the day Keef was released from Cook County Juvenile Detention Center. Chance’s music is nothing like Keef’s but he understands the balance needed. Chief Keef needs to exist , even as violent and dark as his music is. Keef and Chance speak for a generation of teens that in reality, aren’t all that different. Being that both hail from the inner city of Chicago , things are tough out there. Chicago is not a scene out of a Wild West film to be ridiculed and ignored; those wonderful children have hopes , goals and dreams like anyone else. Regardless of what side of the tracks the teens fall on , they need outlets. Keef’s music is very angry and aggressive but guess what? So are those kids. They are frustrated, displaced teenagers seeking guidance and answers. Chance like Keef , is a talented kid from Chicago with a lot of painful things going on around him. He just expresses himself differently and didn’t end up so firmly planted in the street. Clearly , teenagers like that exist in Chicago and everywhere else.

I say all of that to say this: Teenagers from Chicago are not inherently bad people. They are putting themselves into music and creating a world for themselves that they could’ve never imagined. Keef is doing it. Chance is doing it. I’m proud of both. Chance is a better rapper in the classical sense and is excellent at relating his personal life and experiences to other people. With that said, I truly believe Chance is next and I’m excited to see what his future holds.