Sorry I called, too many times
The way you left me earlier left plenty on my mind
Saying I ain’t deserving you, blaming me for the fall
Or the decline, I ain’t involved in us
My heart of ice left you salty, dissolving trust
I know I’m faulty but, that’s not a crime
In forty eight hours we’ll be fine like Nolte
Normally that’s like the case but this time around
I’m bent around five, intent just to dial
Your number, wonder, we can reconcile
If we could work it out, like plumbers
That’s water under, the bridge, we lost it
Fire when we fight so that bridge we lost it
Let me pipe down, emulating a faucet
I’m smoking like a muffler, you’ve got me exhausted

Maybe I’ve been drinking, maybe i’ve been smoking
But baby I’ve been thinking, that maybe we’re just broken
& Maybe we can’t fix it, see maybe we’re just hopeless
Or maybe we need romance, so maybe we’ll just hold hands

This is one of my favorite pieces of art. It’s by an incredible artist named Colin Quashie (Full disclosure: Colin Quashie is one of my best friends living on the third rock from the sun)

The piece is entitled Responsibility. I’ve owned this painting for 15+ years. It always amazes me to hear what people see. Some think it’s a man walking away from his family, but there’s nothing on the canvas to suggest that these people know each other. They could be strangers passing by. Some people think it’s a woman taking her life back from the oppressive confines of an abusive relationship. There are so many ways to interpret the images. 

I’ve heard Quashie lecture about Responsibility many times. For him, art is about process and product. The process is defined by why. Why did he paint this image and call it Responsibility? Why did he use those colors? 

The product is defined by everyone. Ultimately, Quashie’s personal process is irrelevant. The viewer has the right to define what they see for themselves. Quashie’s role as the creator is not more important or more relevant than the viewer’s. 

The role of art is to communicate, not dictate. The creator will never control what the audience sees or how they respond. The audience takes what they want. They don’t need permission. They are not right or wrong. That’s the beauty of art. That’s the beauty of being a fan. There’s room for all of us. All of our feelings and opinions are valid as long as we don’t try and dictate to others how they should feel. 

If the creator can’t dictate, then neither can the fan. Both sides struggle with that reality. That’s why I troll. How can you not laugh at the human condition? We all get so worked up. We scream, we yell, we cry, we laugh, we love, we hate and eventually we die. I choose to laugh as much as possible before the grim reaper knocks on my door. Nobody lies on their death bed and says, “you know, I really laughed and loved too much. I really should have hated more.”

And so, I troll on:)

there are tons of headcanons where lance is really good at dancing, yoga, and other activities that include being comfortable in your own skin and i love all of them,, but what about lance being the awkward lanky guy with two left feet??(perhaps explaining voltron falling down so often lol)

i can imagine him naturally standing with a slight hunch from having to bend over to hear people or see what theyre showing him

i can imagine him hesitant to move his arms around when he talks from all the times he’d accidentally slapped people

i can imagine him shuffling his feet when he walks to prevent stepping on peoples feet

i can imagine him trying to adjust to craning his neck up rather than down when he finally meets someone taller than him(like shiro) and enjoying the feeling very much

i can imagine him getting treated rougher as a child by other kids and adults because his height made him look older than he was

and i can definitely imagine him trying to use his height to help others- like grabbing things off the top shelf, spying over tall barriers, being the fastest long distance runner(with them long legs), etc- to compensate for bumping his head into their stuff, tripping people on accident, and having his arms flailing everywhere all the time

give me lance learning to love and be comfortable in his body, spindly awkward limbs and all

For Your Father’s Day Gift To Me, Pick One Of The Following...
  1. Find out what bill you can be late paying, take $40-$50 from your next paycheck, and treat yourself to a nice dinner (NOT fast food).
  2. Facebook message or email someone with whom you’re upset and ask them how they’re doing. You don’t need to address what made you mad or even reconcile, but assure them you’re not being snarky and that you just genuinely want to know how they are.
  3. Send an email to your senator or representative in Congress and let them know which single issue you care about most. They work for you, after all. [Find your rep’s contact info here and your senator’s here.]
  4. Carpool or use public transit or bike to work for a month.
  5. Sit in a chair in a quiet room, think of a divisive sociopolitical issue of which you are sure you’re on the right side, then mentally convince yourself—just for a minute—that you’re wrong. This is not to change your mind, but rather help you understand the argument from the other side.
  6. Take a piece of white paper and a black pen or marker. If you think you can’t draw, draw something on it. If you think you can’t write, write a short poem on it. If you think you can do neither, do both. Then, even if you think it sucks, frame it and hang it in your home where anyone can see it. You’ve just made art.
  7. Whether alone or with someone else, in a theater or at home, when the music plays during the closing credits of the next film you see, get up and dance. Yes, even if it’s not danceable.
  8. Go to a bar where you don’t know anyone and strike up a conversation with a stranger before you finish your first drink. (Members of the wait staff count.)
  9. Lie to yourself for five straight minutes that the world is not out to get you, but rather supports and celebrates your efforts. Really commit. Let that feeling of joy and relief that accompanies that though fill you. Then, consider the possibility that it’s not a lie or, at the very least, it’s a lie worth believing in.
  10. With a marker, write the word “fuck” on the underside of a shelf or on the level top of a door somewhere in your house. Don’t tell anyone. It’s your secret. Anytime you’re upset, remember your secret fuck.
  11. Remember your favorite childhood toy. Now, go buy the modern day version from a toy store and put it someplace where you’ll see it everyday.
  12. Apply for a job for which you are totally not qualified. If the rejection letter comes, celebrate that you tried anyway. If it doesn’t come, celebrate that you might have a new job.
  13. Go to an old-school diner, order both a milkshake and a malted milkshake, compare and contrast.
  14. During a lunch break, roll down a grassy hill.
  15. Next time you’re in a small crowd (like on a bus or in an elevator), start singing “Sweet Caroline” loud enough for people to hear. See what happens.
  16. If you pray, just once pray to someone else’s god. If you don’t pray, just once try it. This is not meant to convert anyone, but rather to help you understand your fellow human.

Reply or share with which number you picked. And please post about how it went, even if it was a disaster.

Oh, and thanks for the amazing Father’s Day present. In picking one of these, you’ve given me the gift of a better world.

Oddisee - Ready To Rock

Oddisee has got to be one of the most unappreciated hip-hop artists I know.  His solo work is consistently good and he’s done some great things with his group Diamond District.  This is off of his 2012 album People Hear What They See.  The album is far from perfect, but it’s still one of the better “true to the core” hip-hop albums of the year.  Ready To Rock is my favorite song off of the album, and it’s the kind of music you definitely enjoy more with the bass and volume cranked way up.  Oddisee’s production is pretty ridiculous for this song.


My Song Rating: 9.5 out of 10

Made with SoundCloud
Set You Free
Set You Free

We’re living in the age of the microchip, to think real life is like those flicks/ We used to watch where the doc was working for the villain to insert shit into your fingertips/ The danger is, those flicks desensitized us to the ideas it could exist/ Well done Spielberg & Lucas a theory conspired/ I don’t know, in the pudding the proof is/ But who reads the labels of what they eat/ So the readers digest, just what they speak/ But who’s they, bigger than the monotheistic belief/ That the man is controlling the axes of e-vil/ & still all the masses believe, that a masked thief, makes all the madness & grief/ We endure, so we indulge ourselves in the idea that wealth’s the cure/ & further more, less ain’t more no more/ We assess success like herbivores/ More green, more esteem & clout to liberate us from that twenty four hourly bout/ Better known as the day to day struggle, no escape from to make one you got to hustle/ & that’s where the mistake comes, the tussle/ Between fiendn’ out for the dream or the puzzle/ That perplexed minds since the beginning of time/ Why are we here, do we really have free will/ Are we gods, god like or beast still/ Did the pharaohs even have it right/ In two thousand years, you’d think that we would learn/ Can’t take what you earn to the afterlife/ Place it in a urn, the body burns liberated from the ideology that to have we like/ More than life itself/ Man builds rockets to go to the moon but can’t lend hands to the needy in help/ It’s them type moves that forever ensure that war glooms/ Like a tomb where the battle was held to tell the tale how men turned heaven to hell/ oh well, oh well, you know me well/ A common story I came from the bottom to the well/ Not quite the top so exaggeration I’m trying to sell/ So since we’re building my problems I’m from the basement/ No, not my sound, my surroundings, astounding if you found how we dwell/ Streets are filled with complacent minimum wages/ But faking as if their making the maximum & it’s breaking their pockets cause uncle sam is just taxing them/ & their pockets frail/ Yet the streets are unpaved, still the road is rough/ Not for motors but their motives, exposed to black kettle & pot-holes, that just be closing up/ So hold that though, Imagine having an accent that would band you for asking, for a job/ You’d react & hold that torch/ & burn down opportunities door/ the politics of classism is infused with the poor/ That’s conducive for a movement or more, that’s a soon to be war/ Not sure we’re living in a paradise/ More like a resort unaware of plight/ we alright/