Reflections on sharing the stage with Wu-Tang

Yesterday began simple enough. Shower, breakfast, hit the gravity. But soon enough, Jules, Justin and I were off to the Rock the Bells Hip Hop show in San Bernardino. We also went last year which featured the first complete Wu-Tang reunion in 10 years (which also happened to be ODB’s last performance (RIP)), but I also really enjoyed many other acts like Dilated Peoples, Sage Francis, Supernatural, Redman, among others. So the great experience from last year really drove us to go again this year, even though we knew we would be standing in the sweltering heat, exhausted and dehydrated.

We got there about 1:00 pm when the Visionaries were finishing up their set. Supernatural came on after them, followed by Non Phixion, DJ Muggs, Guru (Gang Star), DJ Q-Bert, Sage Francis, Hieroglyphics, Living Legends, Immortal Technique, Redman, Talib Kweli, NAS, KRS-1, and finally, Raekwon, Goastface Killah, Inspectah Deck, and the RZA finished up the show. I am listing all of these acts because anyone who knows Hip Hop knows that this is a monster lineup. Any of these bands could headline a show of their own. I was blown away by the Hieroglyphics, Living Legends, and Sage Francis but I’m not going to go in depth because I could go on and on and as the title of this article suggests, there is something much more amazing that happened this night.

Since we got there early, my friends and I were up at the front. I was able to take close pictures (not with my nice digital camera but with a cheap (not in price!) disposable camera) and when I took my final picture of the RZA when he came on stage, my legs and my stomach begged me to get the fuck out of there, sit down, and drink some water. So I jumped over the railing and I made my way to leave the show. But I noticed that somehow, the exit led directly behind the stage. And once I was there, I noticed that anyone could just jump up on the stage. So I did so, and the next thing I knew, I was part of the show. I still don’t know why anyone didn’t ask me to leave. It was obvious by my appearance that I didn’t belong there. But somehow no one questioned it and I began drinking all the extra water that was on stage – I had been dying for the last 9 hours!

So what’s so cool about being on stage with one of the most notorious Hip Hop bands in the world? Everything! Ok, seriously though, it’s one of those things that I will never forget. The fact that I was somehow able to get on stage, even by accident, I think demonstrates how grassroots Hip Hop is. It’s about the people, no matter how you look and how you’re dressed. It’s about enjoying yourself, and having the music channel that. Music is about bringing people together. And seeing the thousands of faces from up on stage, you get a sense that you’re really providing that bond. I’m not saying me personally, but the band performing, the show that’s going on. I had a final blunt left which I shared with all those around me. I would’ve even offered it to the RZA, but he already had one.

This kind of “giving back to people” is just not present enough among today’s people. There is simply too many selfish and arrogant people out there who look down on others and don’t give back. It’s only when you realize that you are only one dot, one speck among this entire human community that you begin to appreciate others and the greater good. What does it matter if you have a three car garage, a maid, and a six figure salary if those next to you are suffering?

I want to finish this with the reason why I think was able to get on stage. During the day, when the sun was merciless, a man in front of me was passing out. People were yelling for water, but such a precious commodity was not offered by anyone to this drunken stranger. I had a bottle ¾ full which was supposed to last me for the whole day. Thinking it was the right thing to do, I held out the water I had. The man drank some, and immediately passed out, spilling the rest of the water in the bottle. Already parched, I knew I had no way of getting water for the next 9 hours. But I knew the karma I generated from that act was positive, and I wasn’t worried that somehow (I was hoping for a water bottle thrown from the stage) I would be repaid. And I did receive a very lavish and unique gift. Thank you very much.

Generation i(Pod)

There is something very wrong with the iPod. No, it’s not that it can’t hold enough songs. No, it’s not that it isn’t user-friendly enough. And no, it’s not because it’s produced by Mac. In short, I’m not talking about the manufacturing defects, but instead its image, use, and consequences. It’s slowly transforming our culture. It’s transforming people. No matter where I go I see people with those two white strings dangling out from their ears. Those people are plugged in. They are listening to something that no-one else can hear. They are in their own world, full of music and without social consciousness.

The name itself begins with an “i,” deliberately lowercase to emphasize its individuality. If you think about it, all the different skins and accessories that you can put on it along with the personalized selection of songs, almost no two iPods can really be alike. It’s about as unique as you are right? That’s the line of reasoning the producers hope you buy because they know conformity isn’t cool. But the advertisements and reality tell a different story. All the posters and TV ad clips show faceless people. Black shadows against some vivid color. Silhouettes. Like what they ultimately produce in people. Because how can you really be unique when you’re buying the same product (for the image mind you because there are more qualified and lower priced mp3 players if all you cared about was a player) and wearing it to the same places everyone else does? Sure one can be dancing in front of a green screen while the other person dances in front of a pink screen, but ultimately they are just shadows, taking dictation from pop culture.

Ok, I know people love listening to their music. But do you really need to listen to it walking everywhere you go? When you’re at the Gym? Or studying? I feel terrible approaching anyone who’s plugged in because they give me such a distasteful look like “hold on, let me take my earpiece out, what do you want again???” I realize you like listening to music, I love to listen to music as well. But how about just listening to reality for once. Just hearing the ordinary sounds of life. Or if there are no sounds, just think about things. Can you even think clearly, or independently at all, when you have music blaring in your ear? Instead, when you’re at the beach, listen to the waves. When you’re walking, listen to the birds. When you’re at the gym, talk to your neighbor. If you read my blog called “Why Thinking is Good,” you’ll know that I am all about human interaction and relationships. You can learn from people. Or if you’re so arrogant to think that you can’t learn from others, why not teach them something.

You see my biggest problem with mp3 players in general is that it tunes people out of reality. I’m not saying the players are inherently bad, but like everything else, once they become abused I believe they can cause real harm to society by disconnecting people. It's a wonderful paradox: by electronically connecting, they are disconnecting from society. People start thinking in terms of "i" and not of "we," which adds to the ingenuity and tremendous symbolism of the title "iPod." But my problem with the iPod in particular is that it glamorizes this separation and sells it as cool image. I’m all for people having a good time and having the freedom to choose, but I think that if the iPod trend continues, we will only see more of the same ominous wires hanging out of people’s ears, devoid of social interaction, devoid of consciousness, devoid of any meaningful contribution to others or society. They’re plugged into their own world. It’s happy there. They hear what they like there. But isn’t it "OD"???

The Story of a Lone Soul

A worn man lies in his large, stiff bed,
wondering and contemplating his sordid, checkered life.
Gazing at the huge hostile shadows
of the furniture projected on the wall.
Mocking, intolerant, misleading, they are,
and they lay siege to his sanity.
They induce nervous twiddling in his fingers,
though they are knotted and rigid like ropes.
Fever and halucination have become his friends,
faithful servants in his war against the shadows.

The man rises from his bed
as he begins to feel the need for air.
He looks out of the window of his room
and sees a park lying across the street.
Such an opulence of plants.
Such an intemperance of flowers.
Families enjoying their picnics, lovers exchanging gazes,
children running around chasing their dreams in front of them.
It reminded him of lambs dashing toward the slaughterhouse
with their fat bellies and innocent bleating.

But he, too, was a lamb,
submitting his neck to have his throat slit.
At least it would break his constricting and suffocating skin
And cultivate it with a lush red geyser.
The barren and deserted room of his would be
Forced to wear his livid conscience in speckles and streaks.
For he is alone in his room, tormented by the agony of self-recrimination
and envious of those on the outside.
Feeling trapped in his room and his mind,
he thinks that he does not belong with those he watches.
He never realizes how much he will give to those outside his room.

Further Dismantling

I cast long shadows.
I have a vivid imagination.
I love to run.
I compose horror music in the middle of the night.
Do not talk about me; there is nowhere you can go where I won’t hear you.
Win my respect, and I can be the best friend you’ve ever had.
I carry great sacks of peace and purses filled with small treasures.
I’m always trying to make people like me.
My attempts usually backfire.
I am accident prone.
I live from crisis to crisis.
Even the clearest directions are impossible for me to follow.
I am well-meaning, but not as innocent as I seem.
I am surprisingly fragile under my pompous and confident attitude.
I was sick as a young child so I learned to be alone with myself at an early age.
Now I wear my isolation around me like a grey sweater thrown back across my shoulders.
It started when I was a little boy listening to my parents scream at each other as I hid under covers.
I vowed then never to need anyone.
It was as if I sealed myself inside my skin, separate from everyone.
Once, I almost changed my mind. There was a woman whom I cherished. She surprised me. I loved her so much that I thought I would never be myself again. I trusted that such a relationship could not survive. And it didn’t.
I take long walks at the beach at sunset, pausing to meditate on the sun.
I have a quiet mind.
I like to think about the edges where things spill into each other and become their opposites.
I know how to look at things inside out.
Sometimes my eyes go out to the thing I’m looking at and sometimes the thing I’m looking at enters through my eye.
Questions of time, depth, and balance interest me.
I am not looking for answers.
I talk to people who need to hear me.
I listen to those who need to be heard.
My presence is subtle, simple, and undeniable.
I am at home in the desert and the city, with dolphins and tigers, with outlaws, lovers, and saints.

Why thinking is good

Have you ever noticed how much our lives are tied in with other human beings? We eat food that others have produced, wear clothes that others have made, live in houses that others have built. But more importantly, most of our knowledge and beliefs have been formulated by others and communicated to us through the medium of a language - also created by others. Without language our mental capacities would probably equal that of animals. Therefore, the simple fact that we were lucky enough to be born into human society gives us a distinct advantage over ordinary beasts.
We can decide to be whatever we want (in most cases), but we have the significance of being a member of a great human community, which directs our material and spiritual existence from the cradle to the grave. Therefore, our value to the community depends primarily on how far our feelings, thoughts and actions are directed toward promoting the good of our fellows. “The good,” or “the bad,” in this respect has to do with the person’s attitude and sincerity of his thoughts and actions.

However, an individual’s social contributions are not the greatest value they can contribute to society. The most valuable achievements, material, spiritual, and moral, which we receive from society, have already been brought about in the course of countless generations by creative individuals. Someone already discovered the use of fire, the wheel, the cultivation of edible plants, and the steam engine. Everything necessary has been created so the likelihood of you creating something new that is totally necessary to human civilization is probably zero. Therefore, if people’s worth’s depended solely on their social contribution then people are unnecessary and expendable. Might as well slap a military uniform on them and have them march to foreign lands to the sound of blaring trumpets.

But the individual can think, and thereby create new values for society, nay, even set up new moral standards to which the life of the community conforms. Without creative personalities able to think and judge independently, the upward development of society is as unthinkable as the development of the individual personality without the nourishing soil of the community.

The health of society thus depends quite as much on the independence of individuals composing it as on their close social cohesion. If people’s minds are corralled by politicians, media executives, or other people in positions of tremendous power, the individual no longer as anything meaningful to contribute to society and are simply clockwork oranges.