tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31754537667827315562024-02-08T04:28:23.114-08:00New Money Machinko.New year. New outlook. New motivation. New money. .. and new fun, too.MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-16654800325434411022011-01-26T00:25:00.000-08:002011-01-26T01:52:16.164-08:00Bridges and Balloons. (i know.. No one cares but me)<div><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TUyeKOGsoZo" frameborder="0"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>i am utterly smitten with this song. i chose this user created youtube vid because it's so perfect, isn't it? </div><div><br /></div><div>i have never written about a song. i love many, .. many. but there is something about this one. i'm sure my friends are over me bursting into this song on the street. it's almost never not on my mind. </div><div><br /></div><div>i didn't know who Joanna Newsom was at all. how i discovered her is an interesting story. Pharoahe was talking to Nottz about doing some music. Nottz is notorious for having people come down to his lair in VA to work, but he had sent some beats for Monch to listen to. (BANANAS, that guy.) Among them was the track that ended up being Break Bread, the lead song from the Nottz/ Asher Roth project. Incredible track. We would listen to it on loop for an hour straight. We had a bit of difficulty figuring out what the sample was saying, though. My vote was for "should we raise the rent?" I had a ridiculously involved backstory about a group of orphaned siblings, 'Party Of 5' style, living in a huge house they'd partially subletted out, running out of their dead parents' savings and wondering how they would continue to pay the mortgage.. </div><div><br /></div><div>.. it was 'should we break some bread' though. From a song called Sprout And The Bean. Pharoahe found the music. he played it and i was blown away by her unique, quirky voice.. and her lyricism. she loves words, this chick (and she's the one playing the harp on these songs).</div><div><br /></div><div>and then he played me Bridges And Balloons. </div><div>if i have children, this song will be my favorite lullaby to sing them. </div><div>i think it's a gorgeous allegory, an achingly realistic and yet somehow beautifully idealized love story. </div><div><br /></div><div>the 1st verse lyrics go: </div><div><br /></div><div> we sailed away on a winter's day</div><div> with fate as malleable as clay</div><div> but ships are fallible, i say </div><div> and the nautical, like all things, fades</div><div> and i can recall our caravel</div><div> a little wicker beetle shell</div><div> with four fine mast and lateen sails </div><div> it's bearings on Cair Paravel</div><div> </div><div> oh my love</div><div> oh, it was a funny little thing</div><div> to be the ones to've seen.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>this verse describes the embarking on the journey.. the decision to fall in love.. or, to be in love. there is doubt, and perhaps the situation isn't optimal, as suggested by the choice of season and the reference to the fallible nature of ships. but the vessel (trust, faith, hope?) is sturdy and properly adorned, and is headed toward Cair Paravel. I got hype at the reference on some nerdy elementary school ish... because Cair Paravel is the island kingdom where the Kings and Queens of Narnia ruled in the Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. </div><div>isn't that lovely? *sigh* </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2nd verse goes: </div><div><br /></div><div> the sight of bridges and balloons makes</div><div> calm canaries irritable</div><div> and they caw and claw all afternoon</div><div> "catenaries and dirigibles"</div><div> brace and buoy the living- room</div><div> a loom of metal, warp woof wimble</div><div> and a thimble's worth of milky moon</div><div> can touch hearts larger than a thimble</div><div><br /></div><div> oh my love</div><div> oh, it was a funny little thing</div><div> to be the ones to've seen</div><div> oh my love</div><div> oh it was a funny little thing, </div><div> it was a funny, funny little thing</div><div><br /></div><div>this verse continues on in graceful exposition, describing the ride. i go back and forth on what the birds are to symbolize, if anything. birds can mean good, or bad news. (iono abt no canaries tho.) but i was incredibly impressed at the cleverness of the birds cries/warnings, as "catenaries and dirigibles" are just bridges and balloons. i think i may have at some point said out loud "haha... she rhymed 'irritable' with 'dirigible'".. because I'm a giant dork.</div><div><br /></div><div>i love the suggestions of the sounds and sights in this verse. it puts me right in their moment, and i can absolutely imagine myself laying, braced and buoyed next to a lover on a gently shifting boat, listening to its natural sounds and staring up at a milky moon. or, to depart from the metaphor, fully living in a gloriously perfect moment with a lover, knowing and appreciating the beauty of just this, right now. </div><div><br /></div><div>i get the feeling the relationship didn't last. and i relate to that too. it was still an amazing ride, though. </div><div><br /></div><div>ok. now perhaps I can think about the song a little bit less. hopefully? sheesh.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-6658102264031675172010-07-26T16:48:00.000-07:002010-07-26T17:38:51.096-07:00Mixtapes and HeartbreaksWell, listen. Here's one of the many things I have learned since I last saw you: life turns man up and down. Peace to Kurt Thometz. Another thing I've learned, though? Who has time to sit and consider all that shit? Does a person standing in the middle of a four- lane highway have time to sit and lament the circumstances that got them there? You know how that person's gon' end up with all that cryin? A 2- dimensional past-tenser with their insides on the outside for some poor underpaid chump to clean up.<br /><br /><br />The thing about getting over the hump is this: the law of inertia dictates that all the energy you exert pushing and fighting your way up the hump will propel you forward, soon as you get the teeniest bit over. So keep pushing.<br /><br /><br />I got a mixtape coming in a few weeks. It's called "Hov Said It Best". This represents the first body of music I have released to the world that's solely my own. I got told ALL the way off by a man I am now in love with, for my slacking in this area over the years. (He don't know i love him. But how can you not fall in love with a man who is sick of you to the point of ignoring you, for not being great like you can be?) I'm excited about it. It's good stuff. Definitely different. What else can it be? I'm a giant weirdo. :) The first song you'll hear is called "Whatchu Want Me To Do" ... should I stick "Im Sorry!" in parenthesis in the title? choo think?<br /><br /><br />I've lost a friend or two, it seems. That's the heartbreak part of the blog. I like knowing, though. So I don't tell 'em no more of my business. :) Also, it's not really heartbreak. I find it difficult to be heartbroken over someone who isn't laying the pipeski, if you know what i mean.<br /><br /><br />I'm in the studio right now, finishing up one of the last songs on the mixtape. There's a fly issue. We have no idea where they are coming from. They're so big I can hear them buzzing on the microphone. We keep having to pause to beat them to death. More keep coming.<br /><br />Fuck those flies. We will prevail. Life is good.<br /><br /><br />What's new in your world that you feel like sharing? Let me know! I read all the comments, believe me. That's what makes blogging fun!MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-6964606298656904162010-06-18T12:21:00.001-07:002010-06-18T12:24:43.144-07:00At Least 1 Reason Good Black Women Can't Find Good Black Men... as illustrated by a a story.<br /><br /><br />A Good Black Man and a Good Black Woman are at a bar.<br /><br />The Good Black Man goes up to the Good Black Woman.<br /><br />GBM: Hi, what's your name?<br /><br />GBW: Shirelle.<br /><br />GBM: Nice to meet you, Shirelle. My name is Lance.<br /><br />GBW: You too, Lance. May I ask you a question?<br /><br />GBM: Sure, shoot.<br /><br />GBW: Why do Black Men always...... "<br /><br />GBM: *tosses back drink* have a good night.<br /><br /><br /><br />The End.<br /><br /><br /><br />heheMeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-43773655714151193932010-01-07T00:49:00.000-08:002010-01-07T02:00:14.470-08:00To My Exes- Sorry About The VD.Noooo.... I don't have VD.<br /><br />(Its funny... Despite the hideous, life- altering malady that it implies, the term 'VD' is almost charming in its antiquity, isn't it? No? Ok. Maybe its me.)<br /><br />I stole this blog idea from someone on Tucker Max's message boards. (He stole it from someone else.) Its an experiment that asks 'what would u say to any of your ex- bf/gf's, wives/husbands, unrequiteds, jumps, booty calls, etc, if u had the chance today?' It should be fun. I encourage you guys to reply with your own stories as well as your comments regarding mine.<br />Here goes-<br /><br />(... They usually start @ the beginning...)<br /><br />H- honestly, a girl couldn't ask for a better way to lose her virginity. You're probably the reason I don't have any weird hang- ups. You were a great guy, sweet first bf, better sex than I knew to appreciate at the time. You really set a bar. You were a fantastic counterpoint to my hyper, chatty personality. The last time we broke up, it was because you wouldn't drive downtown to get me ribs from the rib shack at 10pm on a school night. I threw a tantrum and stormed out and you (finally) didn't chase me. You were always too sane for me. I found you on FB. You have a beautiful family. Pretty awesome. You'd prolly be grey-haired if we had married. Ima still blog more about you tho.<br /><br />A- We probably would've stayed together longer if you didn't cry so much. Like, heaving on my shoulder, snotting and soaking my sleeve crying. What was I supposed to do with that? My nigga i was like 17. You had too much goin on in your life for me to handle. I saw u about a year ago. You had like 7 kids. Im not surprised.<br /><br />H- We should never have dated. We both knew it. We waited so, so long to consummate the relationship. It was everything I feared it would be. My friends and I nicknamed you "Thimble Boy". I later learned you had a rep for unsatisfied customers. We got along so much better once we got that pesky dating business out of the way. Bad sex makes me awfully bitchy.<br /><br />J- You were The One Who Got Away for so many reasons. Now that Im more grown- up, if I could do it differently, I'd play it so I wasnt so totally the bad guy. I was messin up for sure. But. It wasn't all my fault. I still feel bad about saying that. But it wasn't. Not entirely. I want my pictures too. I looked GREAT nekkid. Dammit.<br /><br />P- You are the devil. I actually have u saved as "Satan" in my phone. You inspired in me a lack of control I havent experienced before or since. You knew a side of me that no one else did, and you knew you did. And then one day i was over it, and it was like someone pulled back the curtain on the Wizard Of Oz. Talking to you is still funny.<br /><br /><br />W- You weren't nearly as smart as you thought you were and that ultimately ruined what I thought was a greatly functioning, situational friendship/ relationship. You were terrible at being slick. Terrible! Pity. You, like most men, should learn to shush sometimes. I think about you now with a strange mixture of wistfulness (for the great times we had and the great times we'll miss) and amusement (at what a silly, silly boy you were!) Eh. I might call u up sometime. You were fun.<br /><br /><br />I would tell more good, happy stories.. but they are far less interesting.<br /><br />I think that's enough... YOUR TURN!!!MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-91909895293644025322009-11-24T02:25:00.000-08:002009-11-24T10:04:32.151-08:00My Friend Who Was PreciousI just watched Precious. I am openly weeping.<br /><br />It took me a few weeks to even try. I read the book "Push" when i was a teenager. I read the reviews that called Lee Daniels a "pathology pimp" and that lambasted both Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry. This will address none of those reviews. That's a whole other blog.<br /><br />I sit here typing and weeping for a couple of reasons. The lesser one (SKIP TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH IF YOU DON'T WANT SOCIAL COMMENTARY) is that I have been witness to a very callous, thoughtless group of people who have gone out of their way to make not only the character Precious, but the actress herself, the butt of cruel jokes. To some degree, it is to be expected. But i was honestly shocked at how thoroughly entrenched MY generation has become in the same self- hating psyche that has plagued generations before us. It has become clear to me that my peers, and even younger, have been trained to dehumanize the black tragic figure. I can name many characters in white movies- obese, considered unattractive, judged to be mentally deficient,- that have never received the treatment that this young actress has (Forrest Gump, Gilbert Grape, I can go on), & are held as heroes even. Sadly, we don't realize the self- hatred inherent in that sentiment. It's divide and conquer. She's not me. That's THOSE black people. Willie Lynch, anyone?<br /><br />This point brings me to the fact that i knew a girl who had a lot in common with Precious. Except that she was thin, light-skinned and gorgeous. (Would they have felt differently about the movie if Precious were all those things?) So many times since this movie came to be, I've wanted to talk about her but i haven't. I have to now. She was my best friend, my 'big sister'. I hesitate to give her name because she was intensely private in life, and even tho I am going to try to tell some of her story here, I think she'd want me to hold that back. Spirit tells me so. So. We'll call her Veronica.<br /><br />I met Veronica when i was 11 & she was 18. We moved into the same apt building in Williamsburg. I sweated her cuz she was older and fly and plus there weren't that many black people in the building. She saw something in me and let me hang out. (My mom is the coolest ever & took in all strays so Im sure that helped.) She had a young son, we'll call him Eric. They were both gorgeous. She took a liking to me, and eventually I became privy to her personal life, as well as all manner of shenanigans. We used to fight together (she was vicious in battle) flirt w/ boys together (she had a switch in TIMBS that i've only ever seen on Candace, in HEELS) sing together (I wrote and recorded my first song on her stereo), and more. She had some 'big sister' conversations with me that I am embarrassed to report I never 'man'd up' and had with my ACTUAL sisters.<br /><br />Veronica's stepdad started raping her when she was 7. At 14 she shot him. She served time in a juvenile detention center (he didn't die). Was released when she was still a teen. Met the love her of life. Got pregnant. Found out that she was HIV positive late during the pregnancy. So Eric was born with HIV as well. Her mom was also infected with the AIDS virus from the same man, and passed when Veronica was about 22.<br /><br />She was one of the baddest bitches i've met, to this day. She was gorgeous and sexy, fierce and scary (even tho she was tiny, she had hand skills. Actually, she had lots of guns too. I saw them. & i saw her shoot one once. She didn't let me be around for all that tho) brilliant and witty and funny and talented. Her poetry was awesome. We made songs out of some of her poems. And her capacity for love was amazing. It overwhelms me to this day. I would hate EVERYONE if i had had her life. She loved FIERCELY.<br /><br />She had another child. That child was perfectly healthy. (yep, that can happen. btw) Then Eric died. I believe that with him went her will to survive. She died a couple of years later. She didn't live past 26. I think about her all the time. She always made me feel like i was so talented. I wanted her to be around to see me be successful. I know she'd be so proud.<br /><br />I haven't yet been able to process whether or not i feel the story was told in a manner that makes a freakshow of this segment of the Black Experience. I'm not promising I won't feel that way. But right now I feel like Precious is a hero just like my friend was. And I am still crying.MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-81205511534961544682009-09-30T15:55:00.000-07:002009-09-30T16:17:43.420-07:00Seinfeldian BloggeryI promised myself I'd do at least one blog a month. September's gonna be over in 5 hours. So, here goes. <div><br /></div><div>Well. Here's what I've been up to (in case you don't follow me on twitter.. and even if you do)- this Hellpit Faeries album is coming along swimmingly! And all the fun's in the conception. This new apartment is chock full of ridiculousness, and we're both becoming more adept at harnessing this constant fuckery in a way that's gonna make us money. We like money here at The Scalpel. A lot. </div><div><br /></div><div>There's been shows (last night @ Santos with Skyzoo and Dujeous was full of awesome!) interviews (I hope that Soulculture piece doesn't make us sound quite as insane as I fear it will) drinking (took us 2 weeks of DILIGENCE to get thru the post- housewarming liquor.. we kept at it, though), daily man- related dramas (we love us some mens), and overall contentment. Life has been good! </div><div><br /></div><div>There's a porn star in our kitchen eating tofu. She ROOLS. Tonite the 3 of us are doing dramatic readings, interpretive dance, and opera singing of our various writings, live on ustream. </div><div><br /></div><div>On a related note, I have to say that for being lil ol' me, Ive managed to have some infuckingcredible ustream and tinychat moments. We're super exclusive with our tinychats, (there's like 8 of us. we aint nobody but we're tinychat snobs. if we don't know you, we scream "STRANGERDANGER!!!" & ban you) but stay tuned for the ustreams. :) </div><div><br /></div><div>Karl Rove follows me on Twitter. I suspect it's because i said I want Glenn Beck to die. I tweeted and asked him. I've yet to receive a response. I'm not afraid of you, architect. I've kept my nose clean. You got nothin' on me! </div><div><br /></div><div>My bday's the 16 of Oct. I'm gonna blog before that, about something more topical. Just, today is so chill. I got nothin to talk about, really. </div><div><br /></div><div>If there's something you want me to give my two cents on, please let me know. I probably have an opinion. I enjoy ranting, too. Give me something to rant about. This smiley happy crap's gonna get old soon. LOL</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Comment yall!! talk to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>:)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-91115247593340705382009-08-20T09:30:00.000-07:002009-08-20T09:32:34.371-07:00Fuck Your Prototype.<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">I am kooky. Fun- loving. Crazy. Super silly. I've done things lots of girls have never done. Some things some girls won't ever do. I long ago decided that my life will be what I want it to be,.. and at this point, i want my life to be smiles and shenanigans. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica; min-height: 17.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">I'm also bright. Sharp. Talented. Blessed. Focused. Experienced. My resume isn't to be sneezed at. I have quite a ways to go. But i eat and pay rent off what i do, and i do what i love. And frankly, you haven't seen ANYTHING yet. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica; min-height: 17.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">I am NOT ditzy. Not simple. Not your escape. Not your experience. Not a puppet. Or a cartoon. Or a reality tv show. I am a real girl. I cry and scream and feel badly about myself and wish i was better and wish i was chosen and loved. I do not wish to be the girl who taught you something about yourself, or the girl with whom you sewed your royal oats. I am not to be tuned into.. and tuned out of. I'm not your vacation from reality. I am not your holiday. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica; min-height: 17.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">I have a friend who without fail says these two phrases to me every time we hang out- "There is no one like you. I never have this much crazy fun with anyone." .. and then "Life is not all about fun and games, son." As if I have been given some sort of Get Out Of Real Life Free card that no one else has access to. Rest assured, I have to work and sacrifice and compromise for my life to work too. I bleed so i can laugh. I'm fine with this. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica; min-height: 17.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">As my roommate pointed out, "Prototype" is one of the most insulting songs ever. "If we happen to part... we met today for a reason. I think I'm on the right track now." Please fuck off, 3stacks. I am not the road you travel on the way to your destiny. I deserve more. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica; min-height: 17.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Helvetica">I am a real girl. </p>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-16392958082007345352009-07-07T20:41:00.000-07:002009-07-07T20:42:14.347-07:00The Type Of Child I Was<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; "><p>When I was young, say around 8 or so, I thought the lyrics to 'Papa Was A Rolling Stone' went-</p><p>"... and when he died, all he left us was a LOAN."</p><p>This, to me, was a most grievous offense. To be a deadbeat father was one thing. But to then die- and leave us with your debt?! Boy did that really burn me up!</p><p> </p><p>Just felt like sharing.</p></span>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-5304263779915031012009-06-16T21:58:00.000-07:002009-06-16T22:29:10.107-07:00Suck It Up And Sin!<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:11px;"><div class="blogSubject" face="verdana" size="11px" style="padding-top: 10px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: bold; background-color: rgb(177, 208, 240); text-align: left; "><br /></div><div id="pBlogBody_372642639" class="blogContent" style="padding-top: 5px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; font-family:verdana;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">You know what I hate? When folks do thinks they know they're not supposed to be doing, while appearing surprised that they’re doing it and<br />complaining about it the entire time.<br /><br />For instance, when a married man sleeps with another woman, and is in<br />the pussy the entire time plagued with guilt, half- erect and mumbling<br />to himself and the poor girl beneath him, "I can’t believe Im cheating<br />on my wife!!... I should stop this...this is wrong." Guess what? You’re<br />still cheating on your wife, homeboy. Only now you’re fuckin up the vibe<br />and nobody can cum cuz you’re running your stupid mouth.<br /><br />Or the accomplice to.. Say, a bank robbery. He’s the lookout, but<br />instead of looking out, he’s shuffling nervously from foot to foot and<br />repeating on the walkie- talkie system, "guys, I got a bad feeling about<br />this... maybe we should just leave." Thereby blowing everyone’s<br />concentration and drawing out the bank- robbing process.<br />Does that guy think that if the Feds tap into the line and hear him say<br />that, that belated sense of righteousness will factor heavily into the Judge’s<br />sentencing? You goin to JAIL, fool!<br /><br />Listen. I’m not condoning bad behavior at all. We’re all human. And for<br />the most part, we spend our lives trying to do the right thing. But we<br />fail and slip into sin. And sometimes we take a running leap into sin.<br /><br />Now, if browbeating yourself into doing the right thing works for you,<br />then go for it. But. If you know you have every intention of doing the<br />bullshit you know you’re gonna do, then why not just enjoy it? Your<br />guilt DURING the act will not lessen your guilt AFTER. Only now you’ll<br />feel dumb cuz you still did it anyway, and u made yourself miserable<br />while doing it.<br /><br />Here’s the thing. Guilt is not repentance. So. Either be strong and do<br />the right thing like Spike Lee, or fix it afterwards, if you can. But<br />don’t ruin the debauchery for everyone else with your bitching and<br />moaning. Its just.. well.... the wrong thing to do.<br /><br />*This has been a Public Service Announcment from Mela Machinko*</span></div></span>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-59667985329047048222009-05-16T13:15:00.000-07:002009-05-16T13:16:55.748-07:00Throwback Blog- Dear AshantiShout out to the homie Miss Cocoa Luv for the request.. this is one of my personal favorites... new readers, enjoy! <div><br /></div><div>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 11px; ">Dear Ashanti, <br /><br />Let me begin by offering you a heartfelt congratulations on your semi- successful comeback efforts. You are certainly looking better than ever, and it's a joy to come across your photos on various urban gossip blogs, etc. As for your music, well.. it's no worse than your other albums, i suppose. And although I can't say I am a fan, I really respect your sticktuitiveness. <br /><br />Your career, however, is not the purpose of this letter. I have been feeling the urge to write this for some time, and after an afternoon of cybersurfing, I could no longer hold back. So, here goes. <br /><br />Ashanti- I want to bone your man. <br /><br />Don't get me wrong- I always thought you guys made the most adorable couple, and I continue to. You're height compatible, both gorgeous people, and despite the fact that I know neither of you personally, I feel like I understand why you get along. <br /><br />But your man... oh, that wonderful man of yours. Thoughts of that full, sexy mouth and washboard stomach keep me awake at night, fantasizing about derrty, derrrty things. <br />Ashanti, if I ever got half the chance, if we happened to be in the same room and you turned your head for even a fraction of a second, you would turn back to discover that I had done a gymnast's tumble triple- flip and landed crotch- first on your boyfriend's face, arms proudly splayed as if I'm a shoo- in for the gold. <br /><br />'Shanti girl, you have to know that I am usually not the kind of girl who covets other women's men. But your other half- well, he makes me forget my good Christian upbringing. Yes, his Sean John photo shoot officially made me lose my religion. Just a glimpse of that sexy, muscled winged back, or that perfect V.... I make plans to do things I would have to apologize to my parents for knowing about. I begin to get creative in my mind. I want to lay your boyfriend's naked, glistening body down and do a flare going into a body glide going into a reverse airbaby on top of him. I want to pull out those little sticks with the balls on the end and beat on his tummy with them like a xylophone. I want to have a doctor install a flip- top head on me like the little cartoon dude from the Reach toothbrush commercial.<br /><br />Now, you don't strike me as a punk. And you certainly don't look like the type to turn the other cheek and just hand up all that juicy goodness to whoever wants it. But I will say this- that's an ass- whooping I would happily take. And I wouldn't even swing back. After all, if all goes the way I want it to, then nobody deserves an ass- whooping more than me, from you. NOBODY!!! <br /><br />So, in closing I would like to say that I don't envy your position. Because I cannot be the only woman willing to risk face scratches and a black eye just to run their tongue across your man's... anything. It must be a challenging life for you, and for this I am truly sorry. Not sorry enough to not throw my lovebox at him like he's wearing a catcher's mitt, though. <br /><br /><br /><br />Sincerely Yours, <br /><br /><br /><br />Machinko</span><br /></div>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-4994705624200331282009-04-29T18:32:00.000-07:002009-04-29T19:10:16.369-07:00Fellas- Could You Do It?So you meet a lady. She's gorgeous, smart, cool, funny, sexy, childless, independent and gainfully employed, with good values and decent credit. She's even a lil bit crazy like you like (you KNOW you like that shit.. quit it.) <div><br /></div><div>Yall hit it off. Yall start dating. Things are going well. Yall fight, but you make up and bone it out before you go to sleep, and wake up happy. Love blooms. </div><div><br /></div><div>A year passes. You've begun to notice that the initial quality of cleanliness of her home is declining. She was on her best cleaning behavior in the beginning, of course. But as the months roll on, you begin to see the signs.. not of simple messiness, but problematic dirtiness. Laundry goes undone and piled on the floor. Sheets go unchanged (and yall get it in frequently). She cooks her sexy ass off.. and then the next time you go in the kitchen, dishes are still there.. even if you went home and came back for another visit. </div><div><br /></div><div>Time goes on. Everything (else) is perfect! Going strong. She hasn't changed. She's still working out. Still giving head. Getting promotions at work. Watching football all sunday every sunday. Yall hug up and contemplate the future, and its even more appealing to you because she's NOT full court pressing you for a ring. You've mentioned the crib's state. Her feelings were hurt. You argued. She apologized. She pulled it together.. that time. Next time the parquet wood floor was muddy with old tracks when you came over. Her big screen plasma and the entertainment system it sits on are both covered in 1/2-inch thick dust. </div><div><br /></div><div>This woman is almost too- good to be true. She's your best friend and confidante, a bad bitch and you're sure she could be a good mother... Except, let's look a little closer at that future. It's natural for the home to be a bit messy when there's a brand new baby. But if this is how it is NOW, imagine where cleaning will rate on the priority list when she's nursing. And babies become ill very easily in unsanitary environments.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yes, you've even cleaned her home. (She threw that at you in the argument- "If you have such a problem, YOU do it!").. and so, despite the fact that you don't actually live there (it's come up, decisions have yet to be made) you clean. Until you notice that whether you do clean, or you don't, she's perfectly fine either way. So your subtle hints, your "see how easy this is?" and "If you do it like THIS then the upkeep is much simpler" fall on deaf, uncaring ears.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, guys.. Here's the question- Could you marry your dream woman, if your dream woman was a slob?</div><div><br /></div><div>Discuss. </div>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-22784328060183905502009-04-21T03:26:00.000-07:002009-04-21T03:58:41.052-07:00Classic Machinko, Take OneI have been conspicuously silent on the blogging front, for a myriad of reasons. <div>(Wait- HAS my lack of blogging been conspicuous? Is that an egotistical thing to say?)</div><div>Anyway, I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things. But, in perusing some of my older Myspace joints, I realized that I've got some great stuff up there that my whole new group of friends hasn't seen.. and probably that my old buddies wouldn't mind coming across again. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, in the interest of getting my feet wet again (and to buy myself some time) I'll be reposting a few of my more entertaining blogs, here. Enjoy! (and comment.. let me know how u feel!) </div><div><br /></div><div>Here goes- </div><div><br /></div><div>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;font-size:11px;"><div class="blogSubject" style="padding-top: 10px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: rgb(177, 208, 240); text-align: left; "><label id="pBlogSubject_390295719"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Myspace Crazies</span></label><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Current mood:Apertunists need not apply. <br />Category: Friends</span></div><div id="pBlogBody_390295719" class="blogContent" style="padding-top: 5px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">I think I've struck blogging gold here, people! <br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Im airing out the crazies!! <br /><br />Here is a short but amusing conversation from a myspace crazy.. Apparently, I've blown my shot! Dammit, man!<br /><br />(i've switched the email around so that it reads from the top down.)<br />________________________________________________________<br /><br /><br />----------------- Original Message -----------------<br />From: MR BIG STUFF<br /><br /><br />i would like to produce a single with you <br /><br />----------------- Original Message -----------------<br />From: MeLa Machinko<br /><br /><br />ok. <br /><br />who are you? where are you based? what kind of music do you do? what artists have you worked with? <br />produce a single with me for what purpose?<br />tell me about yourself. <br /><br /><br />----------------- Original Message -----------------<br />From: MR BIG STUFF<br /><br /><br /><br />read my profile if you want to know about me, all your questions was good untill u ask who i work with, to me it sounds like ur being more of a apertunist and thats a bad sign so forget it , that turned me off and also saying to me that you cant be trusted so see ya, remember this its a good lesson, bye<br /><br /><br /><br />----------------- Original Message -----------------<br />From: MeLa Machinko<br /><br />LMAO!!<br /><br />ok, bye. <br /><br />P.S. thanks for my next blog topic. :)<br />P.P.S. i think you meant "opportunistic." <br /><br />____________________________________________________<br /><br />Here's what makes this even funnier- This is how his 'About Me' reads- <br /><br />"About me:<br />Contact me if looking for studio time *** MY NAME IS KIRK,AM IN TO MUSIC PRODUCTIONS, CONTACT ME IF LOOKING TO WORK ON A DEMO, NOT MUCH MORE TO SAY IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS JUST HOLLA AT ME AND THANKS FOR COMING IN MY SPACE."<br /><br />Now, did I miss the part where he answered all my questions? I think i can read good... right? <br /><br />Oh, and for posterity, his Who I'd Like To Meet...<br /><br />"Who I'd like to meet:<br />I..LL LIKE TO MEET GOOD PEOPLE, PEOPLE THAT DONT KISS ASS, NO BADMINDED PEOPLE, GUNSHOT ON A HATER!! IF NO BULLET DIDNT REACH YOU , U A LUCKY HATER"<br /><br /><br />I guess that means me, folks. <br /><br />And, the icing on the cake- his page isn't even a music page! He's got NO MUSIC on his page!! <br /><br />I get 'em all, folks. And starting now, I'll be bringin 'em to you. <br /><br />*TAKES A BOW*<br /><br />BUT WAIT- THERES MORE!!! <br /><br />The conversation continued, as follows:<br /><br />----------------- Original Message -----------------<br />From: MR BIG STUFF<br /><br /><br /><br />yea, i dont really respect people that think that they should only get down with who is big and who they think could make things happen for them, what about people thats on your level , i think that makes people look bad and it holds alota people back too , i try to get down with people thats real and dont think they have to kiss my ass to get down with me and dont look what level am on to decide to be down with me<br /><br /><br />----------------- Original Message -----------------<br />From: MeLa Machinko<br /><br /><br /><br />sweetheart, i just asked you a question. sounds like you have an inferiority complex. maybe i was just asking so i could go listen to the records and judge how i feel about your production. Its a common question, for a lot of reasons.<br /><br />With regards to working with people who are 'on my level', I work with all sorts of producers, from grammy- winning down to brand new in the game. Good music is good music. And speaking of music, you should put some on your page if you're actually trying to get people to work with you. <br /><br />A bit of advice- Your presentation is less than professional. Think about it a little more with the next singer or songwriter you approach. <br /><br />---------------- Original Message -----------------<br />From: MR BIG STUFF<br /><br /><br />yea so you know a few people thats why you come at me with all them questions at once, i cant spell that word right but you know what it is with you,,, my page is also for friends, my real movement is at demotrial. com, peace...<br /><br />WWW. DEMOTRIAL. COM go blog that , dont even write back fool!!<br /><br />----------------- Original Message -----------------<br />From: MeLa Machinko<br /><br /><br /><br />So i know a few people? thats what you got from what I said to you? <br />Our educational system has clearly failed you. <br /><br />oh... Ive already blogged about you, hun. I move quick! <br /><br />LMAO<br /><br />_______________________________________________________<br /><br />Ok. Im done. going to be productive.</span></div></span></div>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-22196810247614204062009-02-06T01:12:00.000-08:002009-02-06T02:29:39.143-08:00Ta Tow... or, Why U Shouldn't Listen To Anybody Ever.After years of talking, dreaming, and making grand plans about it, finally in the summer of 2005, my bestie and I got an apartment together. We were so excited! We had both left somewhat shaky situations, mine being an annoying, naive and whorish roommate who would invite strange dudes she met in local bars into our apartment and then bone loudly while I tried, in vain, to sleep. Mind you, we lived on St. Nicholas and 125th st. So the characters she brought home were interesting, to say the least. I came home from my nearby barjob many a night to cross paths with some sinister- looking, skinny, long white tee'd up mini- thug scowling at me as he rifled through my refrigerator while the dumb slore stood nearby, wrapped in her bedding and giggling, embarrassed.<br /><br />Our new place was a cute privately owned duplex in a cute community in an up- and- coming section of Newark.<br /><a href="http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/melamachinko/?action=view&current=6Colgate.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i146.photobucket.com/albums/r271/melamachinko/6Colgate.jpg" border="0" alt="6 Colgate Dr" /></a><br /><br />The owners, we'll call them Jerry and Barb, were thoroughly charmed by the both of us, and we were happy to be renting from some good sturdy middle aged middle class black folks with their heads on straight as well... there would be no slumlord in our future. We were determined to be the best tenants they'd ever had. There'd be no problems from us at all! No, sir!<br /><br />Upon receiving our keys, we were given passes to the pool, and our assigned parking space. To go from coming home from work dodging baseheads eating Popeyes on the stoop and coming upstairs to hear thug loving, to my own apartment with amenities? I was in heaven!<br /><br />We spent a long day moving in all our furniture, (by ourselves, i might add.. we were so gangsta wittit!) and running around for odds and ends. At the end of the day, as we were driving back in for the last time that night, exhausted and anxious to sleep in our beds in our apartment for the very first time, we drive into our parking lot... to discover that someone had parked in our assigned space! At 1am, at the end of a really long day, with NO other available parking spots around.<br /><br />We were exhausted to the point of tears, and clueless as to what to do.<br /><br />As we sat in our idling car, a neighbor who had introduced himself as we were moving in, an aging gay black man with a tiny puppy constantly in hand, came up to our car and asked what was wrong. We told him tearfully, "someone's parked in our spot!! We don't know what to do!"<br /><br />The man (we'll call him Tim) snapped his neck back as if slapped and proclaimed "Oh NO! We do NOT play that around here! unh- uhh, hunny! ta- TOW, ta- TOW!!", and pointed to the sign bearing the number to a towing company.<br /><br />We looked at each other, a bit taken aback. "Really? Just like that?", we asked him.<br /><br />Tim: "Oh YES Hunny!! You have to let these people KNOW or they will be ALL up in here in our space, DOIN what they wanna do. Unh- uh! You better CALL that number!! The sooner the better! Ooh and yall look tired too!! When will YOU be going to bed? Ta- TOW!!"<br /><br />We thought, well thats a bit much, isn't it? what if it's the guest of a neighbor? or a neighbor even?<br /><br />Tim: "Hunny WHO is thinking of YOU?! It is ONE a.m. and you are OUT in the streets!! Do what's good for YOU, AND our comMUniTY!! Ta- TOOOW!!"<br /><br />We finally come around. Yeah, we think. Tim's right! We've had a long day! We're sleepy! No one's thinking of us besides neighbor Tim! We need to put our foot down and teach these interlopers a lesson! Maybe this is the way they do things in this complex, and we need to fall in line and present a united front! TA- TOW!!!<br /><br />We call the towing company, doze until they arrive, wait while they tow the offending vehicle, slide into our spot, head into the crib, undress and get into bed. About 15 minutes later, our phone rings. My bestie answers, and i hear her call me frantically. I run into her room.<br /><br />"What is it?" i ask.<br /><br />"It was Jerry's car we towed."<br /><br />"Our new landlord, Jerry?!"<br /><br />"The one and only."<br /><br />On our first night of tenancy, we managed to tow our own landlord's car. Way to not cause any trouble.<br />The thing that hit us the hardest, was the fact that it wasn't within either of our personalities to tow the car, no matter whose it was. It was just more trouble than we had the heart to make, without the coaxing from Tim (whose name became "Ta- Tow" to us from then on). True, we were tired and frustrated. But left to our own devices, Im sure we would have found an alternative. Tried to drive around or something.<br /><br />Damn mean man making us tow our landlord. SMH.<br /><br />So, yeah. Don't be just listening to people. Especially when your spirit is telling you not to.<br /><br /> Ta- TOW!MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175453766782731556.post-24753462845737678382009-01-09T00:24:00.000-08:002009-01-09T02:50:34.728-08:00Video Game Hip Hop (This Doesn't Count As My First Blog!)Its 3.30 am. I got Flight of the Conchords on the boob tube, Ann Coulter paused (in all of her leonine intensity) in the background of this very window, listening to m-phazes beats and wishing i could catch hold of any one of the multitude of ideas flying thru my brain long enough to compose a funny, entertaining blog about it. Since I began typing I've changed the subject on myself 3 times. <div><br /></div><div>I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned in my old blogs on the Space, but there's always music playing in my mind. It's like a satellite radio station, and my subconscious is the programmer. The only time the music isn't playing is when Im fully focused on music playing on the outside of my mind. (Also during good sex, but I'm trying not to get sidetracked.. so shut up) Normally, during everyday activities, conversations with other people, and the like, the music adjusts its volume accordingly. Then, when conversation ceases, or intense focus isn't needed, it switches the volume way up. (So, if you and I are having a conversation and I burst into a song that DIDNT just come on the radio, or WASNT playing in a car rolling by.. then you've bored me 'til my mind turned the music up on you. My apologies. I don't mean to be rude.) </div><div><br /></div><div>So, it stands to reason that this blog, a blog that I do not consider to be the real first 'New Money Machinko' blog (i have a list of topics I want to write about. but I gotta get my mind right so its what its sposedta be), will be about the music thats currently playing in my mind. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Right now its video game music. I think its because the Simpsons movie alluded to something. I can't remember.. i was doing 4 other things. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hip hop and video games obviously have a long standing and thoroughly intertwined relationship. Both rose to significant popularity and more widespread accessibility in the 80s, both are mediums of expression that have deep cultural significance. And they enjoy something of a symbiotic relationship. Rappers enjoy the exposure, and the props, that come along with being featured in popular sports video games such as Madden and NBA Live. And the artists lend the video games (I regret the use of this term) 'street cred', an aesthetic authenticity that aids in the selling of the games to the young, culture (vulture?)- hungry masses. </div><div><br /></div><div>But before rappers were submitting material to EA Sports thru EMI, the folks who were composing the music for earlier video games were creating music that shaped the lives and psyches of those same rappers, and the rest of us, too. </div><div><br /></div><div>Im certain that, if asked, we can call to mind our favorite 'video game beat' (feel free to leave yours in the comments section, as I have no confidence in my ability to recall them all). Producers have a history of sampling their favorite video games. Of course, as hip hop rose in visibility and popularity, and those Japaese composers and gaming co's came calling for their checks just like other sampled musicians, the practice reacted accordingly. The Nick Fury- produced, Pac- Man sampling Lil Flip song, Game Over, is a classic example of an entertaining video game beat that got popular.. and then got outed. I can't say with complete certainty (damn my memory!) but I do believe that Fury told me that his publishing situ took a complete L on that song. I do know that he made a considerable effort to sample less in future productions. Or at least, less obviously. </div><div><br /></div><div>That said, the selfish fangirl in me wants to send a big hug to Eric G, for instance, for his Double Dragon beat, which is an awesome take on D.D. that is masterfully chopped so that it feels like the familiar loop, but has been injected with dope hip hop drums and given a more palatable song format. All the better to rap over. (I'd post it here but I haven't actually contacted Eric G at all about it, and that'd just be foul. LOL)</div><div><br /></div><div>I always thought 'Mike Tyson's Punch Out's music would make for a great rap song, and Statik Selektah felt the same way when he used the sample in a same- titled beat for his 2007 record "Spell My Name Right", featuring an awesomely scary guy named Big Shug, whom I hadn't heard of, I won't lie. But tough guy rap ALWAYS rocks my world. (sidebar- daggone hip hoppers! how u gon intentionally spell words wrong and then demand that folks spell ya name right? how bout you make it easy on yaself and all of us, Mr. Static Selector?!) </div><div>anyway.. </div><div><br /></div><div>I guess its still cool to act like you didn't like Fresh Prince raps even back in the days, but when he came out with his "I Think I Can Beat Mike Tyson", that song, the video game, and Mike being from BK all came together to make that man forever legendary to my young mind. Fuck your chubby pics, urban gossip sites! And had i not been knee- high to a grasshoppa, when Robin Givens brought her bitch ass on Barbara Walters, I wanted to whoop that trick, too! </div><div><br /></div><div>*ahem* </div><div><br /></div><div>One game that I always wished would be sampled, but I've never heard it done (and if my Reason wouldnt keep giving me that weird error msg about MIDI drivers and not working, Id make it myself) is Super Mario World 2, on Super Nintendo. It was the first game that let you choose to be other than Mario or Luigi. You could be Princess Toadstool or shawty wit the mushroom hat whose name I don't know. </div><div>The most slept- on thing about this game was the fact that, when you paused it, it played a stripped- down, drums and baseline only version of the composition. </div><div>I would leave the game paused for hours on each board, just to listen to the baseline. It was funky as HELL. and it was different, and happier, on the outside boards. then, when u went underground it became more sinister. Either way, them japanese boys were playing their asses off. </div><div><br /></div><div>No one pays me any attention because Im just a girl, and Im not a gamer at all (i stopped caring long ago.. right about around when the games I mentioned became outdated). But, if anyone took the baseline of the 1st board of Super Mario World 2, and made a beat... and that beat made a dope song... well, I'd have no other choice but to give everyone involved a lap dance. </div><div>The End.</div><div><br /></div><div>THIS IS NOT MY REAL FIRST BLOG. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>New Year, New Money. Machinko.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>MeLa Machinkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13278780569042160647noreply@blogger.com6