"What cha gonna do with my lovin'?
I'm crazy 'bout your smile.
What cha gonna do with my lovin'?
Please don't make me fantasize.
What cha gonna do with my lovin'?
Tell me now..."
I was raised on Stephanie Mills. My moms and auntie competed against her growing up in church choir competitions. Strong Island vs. Brooklyn. She has so much fly material. Luh huh.
Watts or Mississippi, choose your inferno. My roots in the Bronx, same fuego, no disco.
Where police serve as gestapos, descendants of the Third Reich.
From the frisk to the cuffing, something didn't go right.
Meh bredren can't breathe, their response, squeeze harder.
His soul leaves his body, now his seeds have no father.
The killers never saw trial, the deceased, temporary street martyrs...
---an excerpt from the poem "Pain" by Ty Thompson, from the upcoming project Love is Love, coming February 2017.
Call me crazy, but I'll take the '80s over any decade in my lifetime. Sure, a lot of fucked up shit came with the times (crack and AIDS), but the evils of the time period came at the hands of treacherous and corrupt men, as always. But to me, the '80s set the table for so many things that we enjoy today. There was no HDTV, but we had cable (think MTV, Nickelodeon & ESPN and their impact on popular culture). Hip Hop made its way from BXNYC to the masses, and by the close of the decade, only the truest of haters could ignore the locomotive coming popular culture's way. Music in general was better. More eclectic. I grew up off white boys like Hall & Oates and Michael McDonald, and never thought any different. PBS (Sesame Street, Mr. Rogers, Electric Company, Reading Rainbow & Bob Ross the painter). Video Arcades & Nintendo. The Goonies. Michael Joseph Jackson, Michael Gerard Tyson & Michael Jeffrey Jordan (nuff said). 1988 (nuff said). But most importantly, it's the time in which Mama Shareon taught her young lion Ty the virtues of life in midst the urban jungle of Uptown NYC. My dad was the fighter, but I only felt safe in my mother's arms. She made life exciting and vibrant to me. She put the pen in my hand. The '80s had its own appeal, an appeal which will always be near and dear to my nostalgic heart and soul. I may be from the class of '78, but I'll always be an '80s baby.
It's all about crew love. Get your pieces today. You see us outchea. Check us out:
How can I...love somebody else
If I can't...love myself enough to know
When it's time...time to let go
All I really want...is to be happy
And to find a love that's mine...it would be so sweet
It's been thirty whole years, yet no movie of its kind can go punch for punch with The Breakfast Club. No, nimrods, Angela Yee, Envy & Charlamagne didn't come up with the name. If you dunno, the movie examines a full day of Saturday detention with a kid who represents damn near every social circle of high school: jock, pretty (rich) popular girl, nerd, tough guy/outcast, and weirdo/emo. In a nutshell, the day began with expected disdain, verbal altercations and light bullying, but the common goal of getting under the skin of the detention Dean (principal) brought unity to the unlikely comrades. And of course, they all got high together during the movie. But without doubt, the climax came during an intense argument/discussion amongst the five. The jock admitted he was in detention for a prank gone horribly wrong. The punishment woulda been much more severe if he hadn't been a star athlete. What hurt him most is that all his pops cared about was his son being eligible to wrestle, not about the actual offense or even his son from a fatherly standpoint. The jock felt like he was nothing more than a machine his pops lived through vicariously. The popular girl cried, admitting the pressure of being the pretty girl, the popular girl who could never have a pimple or bad hair day. She felt her substance was totally overlooked. The nerd shed tears, admitting that he was tired of being the smart guy, the kid that was always expected to get the "A." The pressure led him to a mini-breakdown. The outcast proved that you shouldn't judge a man without knowing his full history. He admitted to being a lifelong victim of abuse at the hands of his father, a degenerate drunk who got his rec off from hurting his own baby boy. Finally, the weirdo showed she wasn't so weird at all. I'll leave the rest to your viewing pleasure if you have yet to find the time to view one of cinema's all time coming of age pictures.
My message today closely mirrors the movie. We all have a story to tell, a story that none have knowledge of without opening the cover and reading. We aren't made from a cookie cutter, rather, our God made us all unique. But we still have our common traits. The cliche "we all put our pants on one leg at a time" is quite candid. The gods say that nothing is new under the sun. More concisely, we all have our struggles. We all shed tears from time to time. In that, we all will always be alike. What makes us truly unique is how we handle our struggles and adversity. That's what separates us from one another. Not only should you take the time to get to know someone before judging or interpreting, but respect that man for being different. Try it. Help make this corrupt world a better place. Be unbearable.
Within the next few months, The Crew plans to take it to a whole other level. I'm looking forward to UnB sweats. We dropped the hoodies last winter in limited edition and still smooth sold out. We hear you. Round 2 is a must. Our dad hats are still jumping, and skullies are on the way this fall/winter. We're looking damn good right now. We have no intention of stopping.
Facebook & IG: theunbearablescrew
The Boys & Girls of Summer
As much as I'd love to be my usual nonchalant self, I must admit that my summer camp has made this a damn good summer. We've taken some good trips, and staff has developed genuine relationships with one another. And even though there are a couple weeks left, I can already name the showstopper of Summer '16. It was easily one of the greatest three minute segments of my life. Yes, my life. We were at Liberty Science Center in Jersey City (love that place) about a month ago. Our exact location was the cafeteria. If you've ever been to LSC and eaten in the camp/group caf, you know how serious they are about time. You don't have to be punctual, but you damn sure best be on the way to the exit when your time is up. Anyways, BFC (about 85 deep, staff included) sat in the center amidst a caf full of campers. There was music playing. A particular song began to play. I don't listen to the radio at all, especially mainstream popular music. But if I like it, I just may end up loving it. So the chorus comes on. All the sudden, a random camp leader came thru the isle and hyped about 250 children to sing along, "Oh, I think that I've found myself a cheerleader. She is always right there when I need her..." They crushed it. YouTube worthy. The kids and that beat literally had the LSC cafeteria ROCKING. I looked at my young'n Ty Washington and said in amazement, "Damn, they got it jumpin' in here!" Ty, always cool as Miles on Kind of Blue, simply responded, "Yeah. He know he got a hit with this one." There was Ty. Summed it up thoroughly in a sentence or so. It sent me deeper in thought. For the 1,000,000th time it reaffirmed the power of music. But to hear the kids rocking it like that...that will always stick with me. I went through juvenile hell. There's nothing better in life than to see the kids happy and free as can be.
Dear summer...I'm thankful.
"There'll be three knocks at the door, my baby.
A trench coat hits the floor, my baby.
Sit back in the chair, my baby.
Cuz I'm about to go there, my baby.
Get your body real open, baby.
Give you what you've been hoping, baby.
Tonight I'm gonna pull a switcharoo...
Do you mind if I strip for you?"
Analog Love Part 1
Get the 90 minute tape, the 60 minutes won't do.
It's not quite long enough to handle what we've got plans to do...
Nothing's better than a quiet storm soundtrack.
Homemade, of course.
You know, a little Teddy, Vesta, or S.O.S. Band while we explore each other's temperate regions.
When you need me, just release my pause button.
You already know both my record and play buttons stay down for that perfect moment with you.
That's a poem from my upcoming book of love poetry, tentatively titled S.E.X., scheduled for a February 2017 release. It's copyrighted so if you try and steal my shit I'll get the last laugh. #ijs
I spent some time earlier polying with my big cousin Lee Johnson, a Spanish Harlem #100Blocks legend. There's nothing like checking in with the OGs for perspective and wisdom. They've seen and lived it, for several eras at that. If you're one of those ignorant MF who doesn't feel there's any merit in the words of elders, good luck in life. At the end of the day, they're still around for a reason. Today's discussion live from the projects: "I fear no man, but a bitch's treachery scares me to death." Another time for that one.
Jesus loves me, this I know.
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones, to HIM belong.
They are weak, but HE is strong.
No matter how hard it gets, for all the times you wonder if anyone cares, take it back to the basics. You've always got a friend in Jesus. Take it from a lowlife like me.
In honor of the Egyptian African and his creation of the pyramid, Crew UnB recently dropped the black Pharaoh UnB tee, and it's already a hit in the hood. If for anything aside from conscious fashion, I pray the tee reminds us to celebrate and commemorate our blackness. We did indeed build the pyramids. At the end of the day, we stand great amongst God's creation. Be proud of your blackness. Black is beautiful. Love yourself. When you're done loving, scoop you a dad hat to go with your tee. We appreciate your support. Catch up with us on social media as theunbearablescrew. On Twitter we're @crewunB. I'm @tymonday. On behalf of our fearless leader @TheMisterCeizzo and the rest of the crew, I'm ghost. To the projects one love.