Goodbye '09. I'll never let you go.

TiRon - Throwing My Money (Video)

Below is a video by seriously upcoming, L.A. (via Illinois) Hip Hop artist, TiRon titled "Throwing my Money." This video was directed by the masterful Carey Williams and myself. I will definitely post some more on TiRon and Carey soon, but this video just dropped, and this is my debut as a director so I have to put it out there. Thank you both for letting me play, and thanks to everyone who has supported the video and the record.

TiRon "Throwing My Money" [Official Video] from The Cafeteria Line on Vimeo.

Ryan Leslie in on TV in 1994

This tripled my respect for Ryan Leslie. I hope this side of him is still around. We all could use more of this.

Michael Jackson Death Ruled a Homicide (video)

Yamandú Roos - Photographer

Yamandú "Mandu" Roos is an Amsterdam-based still photographer who got his start around the age of 17 via an internship at El Pais, a daily paper in Montevideo, Uruguay. Nowadays he drives around Europe in his red Peugeot 205 listening to Common and shoots anything/one that looks interesting. He also does commercial photography for folks like Nike.

Simple, clean images. I'll let them talk.





Below is a video of Yamandú shooting for a Nike Women campaign.


Below is a video of Yamandú driving/shooting through Berlin and into Poland.


http://www.yamandu.org/

Mandu on Flickr

Twitter

Woman Sets Herself on Fire in Miami Mall (2 videos)

I remember walking and riding my bike here as a kid.

Usain Bolt's 100 Meter Record Broken in Berlin

Hold up.

Michael Vick is to Amateur, what PETA is to Pro

SCORE:

PETA - 21,339









Michael Vick - 7 (approximately)

But Michael Vick is still having a pretty good week.



According to the Center for Consumer Freedom (CCF), PETA is not too big on adoption.

"According to public records from the Virginia Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services, PETA killed 2,124 pets last year and placed only seven in adoptive homes. Since 1998, a total of 21,339 dogs and cats have died at the hands of PETA workers.

Despite having a $32 million budget, PETA does not operate an adoption shelter."

Seven adoptions! Hey, that was Mike's football number (and approximately how many dogs he admitted to killing)! At least PETA's not doing anything crazy like wearing fur or testing diabetes medication on animals.

Read the whole story (and see the actual documents) here.

In related news:
On Aug. 13, PETA signed a two-year deal with every NFl team that has an animal as its mascot (except the Eagles) reportedly worth $1.6 million with an option for a second year for $5.2 million with $3 million in incentives.

RIP Baatin of Slum Village

I was just looking at an article yesterday about how Slum Village was getting back together. I don't have any details about what happened yet. I think SV is one of the best to ever do it (with or without Dilla). We lost a good one. Rest in Peace and power, sir.

Baatin is probably on his way to Dilla's villa in Heaven with a DJ bag full of vynil for Dilla to sample. You know what love is.

Thought you knew Baatin was polygamous.

Afronaught (Afronaut) - DJ/Producer

Sorry for not knowing about this man sooner. Don't tase me, bro!

I've heard the name, "Afronaught," a million times over the years, but I never really heard the music, not knowingly. I was put onto Afronaught by a really good friend of mine who spent some time in London as an A&R for Sony. God bless him.

Afronaught aka Afronaut aka Orin Walters is a London-Based Breakbeat DJ/Producer. He's also known to spend quite some time in Puerto Rico. He also spun some house music in Chicago in he '90s. He's considered a pioneer of West London's breakbeat scene and is also a member of the DJ/Producer collective known as Bugz in the Attic. His style of production is known for being more soulful than others.

Listen. Enjoy. These two songs are merely the tip of an enormous iceberg.

"Transcend Me" (I've been listening to this repeatedly since I became aware, about three days now.)


"Now or Never" (Let the beat build on this one. It's worth it.)



And now you're happy. See how that works?

Afronaught on MySpace

Ning

Bugz in he Attic


And because it's only right.

The Girl with the Chocolate Chip Freckles

Some of the women I love are changing. Permit me to me rephrase. Some of the women I love are changing themselves.

I don't love these women. I don't even know them. I love things about them.

I get an E-mail alerting me the I have a friend request on this social networking site catered to photographers and models. I haven't logged on in a while. I check it out; two female models and one male want to be my, "friend," no problem.

I'm hoping to work on a particular project in the not-too-distant future where I'll need a handful of women. So, I decide to look through photos of some of my friends hoping to see some new shots, and remind myself of some of the people I'd like to work with, maybe even make a new friend.

Then I see her. She's my, "friend."

She's. ... Nice-looking. I don't think we'll work together any time soon. She's located about six hours north in San Francisco, and there's no shortage of models here in L.A., but I love her, "look." I click on her profile picture, and dive into a world of her.

Something's different. The first picture has her nude. In fact, almost half of her pictures are nude, a blend of artistic and tasteful, leaning more toward the latter. There were no nude images here before.

I wasn't here to look at her body, a shape, a formation that even a mashup of designers, sculptors and engineers at Koenigsegg and Rinspeed couldn't come close to on their brightest, most carbon-fibered, most inspired and computer-assisted day after spending the previous day driving Venturi Volages from France to Tuscany to have dinner at Chris Bangle's house all while having the decency to first stop in Geneva for chocolate and braking in Maranello to leave graffiti on the walls of the Ferrari factory.

That was a really long sentence, and for that I apologize. To make up for it I give you small, yet effective picture. Yes, "Picture." Then you keep reading, yes.

Venturi Volage

Koenigsegg CCXR







Rinspeed sQuba

Like I was saying, I was here to look at her face. It had freckles. That's what I loved about her especially the big one on her nose. If I remember correctly it was on the outer edge of her right nostril. Though the rest of her was flawless I was here for those little spots overflowing with melanin that danced on and around her cheeks.

Something's different. Where are her freckles? Her freckles are gone, and so is the love. As beautiful as her uncovered body is, it. ... She doesn't stand out anymore, at least not to me. She's still a nice-looking girl and all, but who isn't around these parts?

I don't know what happened to her freckles. Maybe it was editing. Maybe it was surgery. I don't know why they're not here any more. Maybe she thought removing them would make her look better and feel better about herself. Maybe she'd get more work without them (in conjunction with a bare breast here or there). I hope it's nothing health-related. In a world as shallow as modeling via a medium as impersonal as the Internet one only has so much to go off of. I'll subscribe to a look better/more work theory.

She used to be perfect. She looked like candy. She was candy. She was 95 percent milk chocolate and the five percent that was the pair of inches in between her upper lip and eyes was chocolate chip cookie, but the chips are gone now, and so is much of my interest.

Average Joe: But dude, she's hot. ... And Naked!

Yes, AJ. This is true, and thank you for pointing that out. However, at the moment, I'm looking at her with a part of my right brain that creates creativity (Too much?), and in case you haven't noticed I'm wearing my, "I'm Mature," shirt today. I'm sure you know there is no lack of naked women online. Besides, look how she's posing. This is art.

She is hot, though. Thanks for playing our game. We have some lovely parting gifts for you.



Next I stumble upon the profile of another young lady model. Click. Click. Click. Photo. Picture. Image. She looks nice. Hold up.

Where are her ears?

Michael Jackson is not Available

For the record, before I begin, I'm glad Michael Jackson is gone. Yeah, yeah, I know he's not, "gone," gone, but he's gone. I'm not obsessed with death or contemplating suicide or anything like that. I'm not a super-hardcore fan either, but Mike was the man, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't trying (and failing miserably) to moonwalk 15 minutes ago.*

Michael Jackson is not dead. He's just not available.

Michael Jackson is not available:
- For interviews
- For photo ops
- To be the butt of bad jokes that aren't funny
- To give paparazzi something to do
- To lend anyone money
- For liars to attempt to extort money from him
- For any sort of comeback
- To be ridiculed and insulted

. ... Any more.

Michael Jackson was a regular guy who lived a crazy life. Sure; he's done things that some probably don't agree with. I have, too, and so have you. As far as the child molestation stuff goes, I wasn't there, so I can't say what's true and what's not. However, some people have admitted to have lied about Michael. Those people will have have to answer to someone, just like Mike will. What those conversations will sound like, only Mike and those people will know.

I'm glad Michael Jackson is gone. Comedians will have to either write him out of their routines, or drastically alter their material regarding him. Now, I'm a sucker for a good joke, even one about Michael, but this guy's probably had enough. Even the bully knows that once the kid is crying on the floor, spitting out teeth and blood, that it's time to go pick on someone else.

CNN showed a clip of reporter, Egberto Willies (Sorry. I don't have the link.). In it he said, "I grew up on Michael Jackson, I loved Michael Jackson. I hated Michael Jackson. I admired Michael Jackson. I was ashamed of Michael Jackson. I was sorry for Michael Jackson. I was proud of Michael Jackson." I couldn't have said it better myself.

I'm glad Michael Jackson is gone. He doesn't have to worry. ... Anymore. ... About anything.

Michael Jackson is not available to worry about:
- Poverty
- War
- Taxes
- Racism
- Everything else he was concerned about
- All the petty things everyone else worries about

So, I'm glad he's gone. He's lucky.

Michael Jackson is not dead.

He's just not available. He apologizes for any inconvenience.


*I've also been jealous for years of my little cousin's ability to moonwalk.

48 - Buenos Aires (Video)

I've been feeling a bit more international than I normally do (which is a lot). I've had a lot of global cities (Barcelona, Tokyo, London, Madrid, San Francisco, Hong Kong and New York to name a few) on my mind as of late. I decided to post a video about Buenos Aires, Argentina. I don't know if it was the fact that I ate at an Argentinian restaurant this weekend. ...

Gaucho Grill (Santa Monica, CA)
- Food - B-/C+
- Service - A

Starters:
- Bread with chimichurri - Could've used more churri in the chimi.
- Chorizo w/ chick pea salad - Decent.
- Sweet bread - Surprise! It wasn't sweet. It wasn't bread.
- Sauteed mushrooms - In butter and white wine, best sauteed mushrooms I've ever had, and the main reason I decided to stick a restaurant review in the middle of a post for a video. ... Dreamt about them the entire following day.

Main course:
- Churrasco (Skirt steak) - A bit overcooked, lacked flavor. Don't you know where I'm from?. You can't fool me on a good churrasco, but thank you for teaching me that's it's also called, "Entraña."
- Mashed potatoes - Bland, thank god for those mushrooms.
- Grilled zucchini - I'm just bored at this point.

Dessert:
- Espresso - A nice, needed touch.

I'd come back for the mushrooms, a side of rice and a Quilmes

Where was I? Oh yeah, crawl out of that bubble you call a life, and spend 48 hours in Buenos Aires with Australian journalist, Amanda Palmer and her guide, journalist, Macarena, in "48" on Al Jazeera English*. I've never been to Bs As; so I can't say how accurate this depiction of the city is, but there's some interesting stuff going on, and it moves pretty well.




*It's like Al Jazeera, but in English.

Every Child is Born a Poet: The Life and Work of Piri Thomas (Video)

For the record, before I begin, watching this made me want to add more value to my life, do and promote things with even more substance.

Piri Thomas (Born Juan Pedro Tomás) is a writer and poet born in New York City to a Puerto Rican mother and Cuban father. Piri's been there and done that, saw the mistakes he made in life, decided to write poems and short stories to help rehabilitate himself and later began to spread a message of positivity among youth in the states, Central and Latin America and Europe.

Piri is also known for penning the best-selling, autobiographical, "Down These Mean Streets," a look into the Spanish Harlem neighborhood that molded him. Good, bad and ugly, the book is embraced for its honest portrayal of the life of a young man who was smacked around by life and smacked back.

Honestly, the film started off a little bit slow for me. When I noticed the PBS logo at the bottom, left-hand corner and the playful tone of some the poetry I thought this was going to be, "Sesame-Street-meets-Def-Poetry." However, I'm really glad I stuck with it until the end. It's like a gum-filled lollipop, sandwich cookie or a FAMU football game; it doesn't really get good until the middle.

Identity issues facing Hispanics of all shades, violence, drug use and good old-fashioned Nuyoricanisms all combine to make this an interesting pot of habichuelas (beans).

I'd like to meet Mr. Thomas one day, and get some knowledge and maybe a good story or two over a plate of fricase de conejo or some mofongo and finish with un chispito de Barrilito.*

In hindsight, "Sesame-Street-meets-Def-Poetry," might not be so bad. ... Kids need teaching.

Respeto. Punto.



*Stewed rabbit, refried plantains and a little bit of Barrilito rum. Now you know.

Check Piri out here.

Jay-Z' BET Rehearsal Pictures

I got a chance to watch Jay rehearse his performance for tomorrow's BET Awards. I took a few pictures with my phone. As a photographer, I am a bit ashamed, but in my defense, it's all I had. I made them black and white. ... Because I'm artist, and I was bored. I also saw Bell Biv DeVoe, Guy, Jamie Foxx and Ne-Yo run through some songs yesterday but no pics. Sorry. I was talking to someone the whole time.

Michael Jackson's 911 Call

If you think you might be offended by this, just hit the back button. Thank you.

RIP MJ - Images From UCLA Medical

I decided to stop by UCLA Medical, where Michael Jackson felt his last breath (or was rushed to after it). Here are some images. I have a lot more, but here are some to give you an idea of what was going on. Rest in peace, sir.

Before the Music Dies - Documentary

If you have an hour and a half to spare, I highly recommend this.

"This documentary explores the reason why so few companies currently control the music played on the radio and for sale at retail stores, and whether corporations really have the power to silence musical innovation."

Here are a just few things you will encounter watching this documentary:

- How Clear Channel was born
- Erykah Badu's easy-to-follow-steps to super-stardom for girls
- Why Wynton Marsalis' music students are full of crap
- Why Sunday should be important to you if you're a musician
- Some great musicians you've probably never heard of

This is good stuff right here. Enjoy.

Nyle - Emcee

Nyle (formerly NyelLee) is a New York City emcee (read: more than a rapper) originally from Philadelphia. Nyle. ... Nyle? ... attended (not sure if he still attends) NYU? ... And studied abroad in Ghana? Wait, an educated rapper? Rappers and college? How the hell does that work? What will they think of next?


I won't say too much, because I want to introduce you to him the way I was, via the video below. Here, Nyle along with 37,000 other people take Lil Wayne's, "Let the Beat Build," and breathe enough life for 10 cats into it.

Beware; this is art. Good thing schools are cutting budgets on programs that help kids do stuff like this. Last thing we need in this country is creative genius. Shout out to the best music video director on Earth/budding film director/editor of half of what you see on TV for putting me on to this.

*steps off soapbox, lets the beat build*

Nyle "Let The Beat Build" from Nyle on Vimeo.

Normally, I wouldn't list all these credits, but they deserve it. The following was pulled from the video's Vimeo page.

This video was filmed in one take, with audio being recorded simultaneously with the film. The video features Nyle (www.nyleraps.com) and is produced by Last Pictures (www.last-pictures.com) and 194 Recordings (www.myspace.com/194recordings)


Director- Chadd Harbold
Producers- Golda McCormick, Nyle Emerson, Chadd Harbold
Director of Photography- Adam Newport-Berra
Steady-Cam Operator- David George Ellis
Assistant Camera- Andy Kromphardt
Gaffer- Greg Golko
Key Grip / Transportation Captain- Bobby Olsen
Assistant Director- Keith Haskel
Art Director- Heidi Goldstein
Editor- Bryan Gaynor
Post-Production Supervisor-Dan Berk
Music Producers & Engineers- Katie Buchanan & Alan Gordon
Music Pre-Production-Brian Lee
Mixed by Mykael Alexander
Mastered by Nyle Emerson
Assistants- Chase Culpon, Jacob Blumberg, Dana Sedgwick
Colorist- Vladamir Kucherov

TEACHER
Phil Swetz

VOCALISTS
Danni Lee
Elle Varner

BAND
Isaac Teel (drums)
Mitch Friedman (Bass)
Daniel Mensch (Piano)

HORNS
Al Barrentine
Kevin Birk
Julian Taylor

STRINGS
Molly Fletcher (violin)
Cameron Orr (violin)
Alexandra Jones (cello)
Kristine Kruta (cello)
Liz Hanley (violin)
Hana Segerstrom (violin)
Patti Kilroy (violin)

OTHER
Marlene Desiree (Dancer)
Josh Pikulin (Guitar)
Katie Buchanan (Banjo)

HOMEBOY CHOIR
Plateno Man
Syanide
Maverick
Odudu Akpaeti

SPECIAL THANKS
Priska Neely

Nyle's Web site.

Nyle on MySpace.

And just for kicks, here's the original.

Paul Pre - DJ/Producer

Just download this, and thank me later.

For the record, before I begin, Paul Pre puts out a mix about every month. ... I'm still listening to the Oktober mix from last year. Paul Pre is a Hip Hop/Down-tempo/Electronica DJ/Poducer from Kiel, Germany. Do yourself a favor, and check him out.


Here are a couple of quick snippets from from his Pandasession mix series. Frankly, I don't think they're a fair representation of what Paul brings to the table. So, I highly suggest you check out his Web site or his MySpace page.





I'm more familiar with Paul as a DJ, and I think he has a great ear for setting a soulful vibe than anyone with functioning ears can get lost in. I don't really want to talk much. You really should just go, and scroll down to the gray box on the right with the squiggly lines.

Nosaj Thing - Producer

For the record, before I begin, producers are my best friends. I'm going to start shining some light on them as well as other artists you should be aware of.

Nosaj Thing is an L.A.-based, Electronica/Experimental/Hip Hop producer on L.A.-based Alpha Pup Records. He is scheduled to drop an LP titled, "Drift," on June 9.

Here he remixes Flying Lotus' (Another producer you should already know about and whose stuff I will post later), "Camel." I've been losing myself in this record for a few days now, and it sort of feels weird doing it by myself; so, please join me. It has a futuristic, tribal vibe. Material like this reminds me that it's not all bad in the world of Urban music and why I love it so.



I also recommend listening to, "Coat of Arms." Now let's get some Auto-Tune on that thing. I kid. I kid.

Nosaj Thing on MySpace

Domino's Pizza is the ILLest

How to lose your job during a depression (we were in a recession a long time ago) in 3 easy steps (now with more live cultures!):

1. Stick cheese in nose.
2. Fart on salami.
3. Upload to Youtube.

So, the guy farts on the salami and sticks some cheese up his nose. ... I don't see what the big deal is.



I wasn't able to embed the bonus, DVD footage of our protagonist shoving peppers in his nose (in his defense, it was only one nostril), sticking his fingers (again, just one finger) in the "sneeze bread" or gently scrubbing his bare behind (multiple stokes, all UP in the crevice, inexcusable) with a sponge before doing the dishes, and for that I deeply apologize.

Jared from Subway would so not approve. Here's the girl's response to Vice President, Communications at Domino's, Tim McIntyre (via Consumerist).

"I am sorry about all of this! It was all a prank and me nor Michael expected to have this much attention from the videos that were uploaded! No food was ever sent out to any customer. We would never put something like that on you tube if it were real!! It was fake and I wish that everyone knew that!!!! Michael never would do that to any customer, EVER!! I AM SOO SORRY! You see all the time of the pranks that people upload and the pranks need to seem real in order to get a laugh out of people but this prank was very very immature and I am sorry for the embarrasment that I have caused your company!"

They got fired so quickly, the cheese on the sandwich hadn't even melted yet.

And another one. ...


If you don't know about TheOnion, then I'm not going to tell you.
Anybody want to go half on a pie? Better yet, we can save even more just buying a piece of the company.

What's that, Lassie; falling stock prices? That'd be keen.

So, what's for lunch? ... You're fasting? What do you mean?

This Morning in Trinidad

As everyone was gathered around the baggage claim, me and my book bag walked right passed them with an ignorant hint of arrogance and an immature bit of "Nanny-nanny-boo-boo-you-have-to-wait-for-your-bags-and-I-get-to-walk-straight-from-the-plane into-the-island-ness." If you've never done this, try it at least once, on an international flight if possible. It just seems to be worth more. The truth was I didn't remember if I had checked a bag or not. I was just so happy to be in Trinidad. It was my first time.

My flip flops click-clacked all the way to this pier/wall thing that overlooked the water, and I just stood there, speechless. This must be what Heaven looks like. It was even more beautiful than Puerto Rico, though I'd never admit such a disgusting lie to my Boricua grandmother. She'd have my head, then we would probably eat afterward.

I stood on the coast of Heaven and looked over the water to the tall buildings behind it. What I saw looked more like something out of a Dubai travel brochure. I thought Trinidad was much smaller, shorter. ... More humble.


I noticed a group of planes flying in formation near the tall buildings. They reminded me of the Blue Angels, but I couldn't make out their color from so far away. They looked to be so close to the buildings, weaving through them. It was almost as if they knew I was coming and were performing just for me. I always loved watching planes fly.


They twisted and turn and bobbed and weaved with an ignorant hint of arrogance and an immature bit of "Nanny-nanny-boo-boo-you-can-only-ride-on-planes-and-we-can-fly-them-and-turn-the-sky-into-our-playground-ness." They flew from my left to my right before making a U-turn back through the buildings.

Then out of nowhere I notice another airplane introduce itself via the top, right corner of the sky. It didn't look like the other planes. It was a passenger plane. This plane was clearly not part of the choreography. It was flying toward me or most likely to the airport I just exited behind me.

I took out my camera for the perfect picture, the small, nimble, quick, dancing planes to the left, huge, clumsy, sluggish, aerial monstrosity on the right with the skytouchers of Trinibai as the centerpiece. As I focused on the 747 I noticed one thing, it was moving really fast for a plane that was about to land.


I managed to get a few shots, but I wasn't blown away by any of them. After looking up from my camera with hopes of getting some more shots I realized I was too late, the 747 was too close and the other planes too far for me to get the shot I wanted. By this time it was flying directly over me, but something didn't seem right. It was still going way too fast and low.


By now I knew something was wrong. I heard a voice out of nowhere, a low, unexcited, "Ayyyy." It sounded much like my mother, but I looked and saw no one near my. I was by myself.

I turned around to follow the plane as it sank. ... And sank. It was nowhere near the runway. It would soon walk on the water on its way to the beach. There were people there. The landing, for what it was, seemed flawless, one even the pilot of that recent emergency landing in New York's Hudson river where everyone survived would envy. The 747 seemed to make not even a splash. Everything appeared ok.

Then the strangest thing happened. The plane rolled onto the beach. I had no idea how this was possible. Inertia? Wouldn't the weight of the plane? ... What about the sand? ... Now was not the time to consult with my astonishingly average science IQ.

Just past the sands of the beach was an enormous plaza with a magnificent pyramid-shaped top that rested on four massive columns. Couples walked hand-in-hand; young men played soccer, and family and friends hung out here.

The plane would soon bring all of this to a screeching halt as it rolled into the lives of the unsuspecting destroying all that was irie. The plane's right wing caught one of the columns which forced the plane to catch fire and turn toward the plaza's center. The 747 wing was no match for the plaza's column. The column forced the plane into a U-turn which topped those of the dancing planes of earlier. However, much of the wing remained in the plaza, and the plane was now on its way back to the beach draped in fire. Its dance would end there.

After the initial strike of awe I did what came naturally. I grabbed my camera and pointed it at the ball of fire and smoke. After several shots, I click-clicked over to a short wall, hopped over it into some sand and headed over to Hell for a closer look.

By the time I got there all that was left was fire, plane remnants and a lot of screaming and crying. I noticed a 50-something, pale-skinned lady with short, reddish-brown hair being helped by a group of locals. Eventually, she too would crash into the sand. I wanted to help, but with all the chaos I didn't know what to do. So, once again my camera came out. I noticed a reporter screaming into a shoddy microphone connected to a video camera of even inferior craftsmanship. She didn't appear to be a professional, nether did I as was torn between documenting the goings on and lending a helping hand.

I really didn't know what I could do. The plane was on fire, and the only survivor I saw was the 50-something, pale-skinned lady with short, reddish-brown hair being helped by a group of locals.

Then I woke up.

2009 Oscar Winners

From Oscar.com:


Click image for better view.