Letter to Game

Game darling,

Been too long since my last letter.  I actually wrote this one ages ago and straight forgot to send it. Accept my apologies. Where have I been? You know: hustlin. 

I'm on that money grind, backyard grind, spine care grind. Every morning homie, it's the microwave heat pack and the yoga strap and I'm lying on tennis balls and hanging upside down and shit. But hey. I get to be out in this world, going places & doing things, so I am nothing but happy to spend an hour every day mollifying the left psoas and putting space between those lumbar discs. And since I know you'll ask, fuck yeah I'm working them muscles too. I dare any of those health care bishes implying I might need to "strengthen my core" to take a punch at these abs and break a damn hand.

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La Crise Plogxistentielle (Deuxième Partie)

Over the past couple years I have many times feared my plog would die. It has not died. It has, however, limped along pitifully and huddled in the corner with drooping wings. And you know...

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The Clebilicious Review: Born Sinner

    J. Cole

    Born Sinner

J. COLE HAS a soft power delivery. His touch is light, but when he gets his words right they make deep impact. He doesn't wear an armor of swag and yet, in his understated way, he's extremely swaggish. (The author would totally do him. Take that haters.)

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The Network Marriage Plot

We nowadays are too anti-romantic to quite embrace them--even the excellent book called The Marriage Plot does not (spoiler!) end with true love gratified--but marriage plots do, mercifully, live on, in the form of the classic, slow-build network sitcom romance. Our Darcys and Lizzys are Ross and Rachel, Jim and Pam, Will and Emma--subjects of will-they-won't-they teasery spread languidly over episodes and seasons.

To my utmost delight, Fox has fashioned a Tuesday night with back-to-back sitcoms of the best kind, starring lead ladies with Lizzy wits. New Girl's Jess is zany and adorable, as only Zooey Deschanel can be. She means well all the time and risks harming others only by annoying them with excessive cheer. Mindy of The Mindy Project is also zany and adorable, but with a twist of caustic Kaling lime. Jess is willing to impersonate Elvis at a funeral to help her roommate (who is also her Darcy); Mindy freely admits that she expects to go to hell because she loves gossip and doesn't "really care about the environment."

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The Format Pleasure of Harlem Shake Videos

Amid the internet-wide arguing about whether Harlem Shake videos have redeeming cultural value or demonstrate the "real" Harlem Shake (answer to the latter being a clear negative), I think the point is lost. 

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Tale of the Badu Night PART FOUR

Start at the beginning.

AS WE LEANED against a wall backstage--me awkwardly, Adria looking inexplicably at ease--a fellow passed by and smiled and asked if we were having a good time. He was the selfsame fellow who'd been in front of us onstage, with the triceps and the cornrows.

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Tale of the Badu Night PART THREE

Read PART ONE HERE and PART TWO HERE.

I wish I could better, or more narratively, remember the show. I recall it only in kaleidoscopic pieces, as befits a religious experience. We positioned ourselves in the left wing of the stage, behind scattered members of Badu's band (the one directly in front of us had cornrows, broad shoulders, nice triceps) and I could clearly see Erykah's colorful bra straps, and when she tired of and removed her heels I could see her toenail polish, which looked white. It is silly to worship people as idols, but I couldn't help it: being that close to Badu made me feel imbued with magic powers.

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