How ever far away!

Lamb or Wolfe?

I'm back from NYC where I had a marvelous time. Albin and I had more fun than any young men should be allowed. From $17 hamburgers to oysters on the half shell to Proseco and Red wine to wheat pasta with duck to dates wrapped in bacon to dancing and laughing at Beatrice into the wee-hours I experienced a rich, vibrant, friendly city that wrung me out and left me dripping, all the while leaving me wanting more. I was just as happy to depart Laguardia Airport as I was to arrive. Not because I didn't enjoy my time or the city--I loved both. I was happy to leave because I am exhausted and in need of the slow pace of my hometown to rejuvenate and get over the flu. I will return to the city that never sleeps. But, for now I will keep writing and thinking about one of my favorite cities.

BENNY LAVA

Moon Walkin' in Muncie

In the early eighties I was a breaker and a member of a group called the Clean Break Crew which eventually became known as CBC Fresh. The crew was made up of between two and four breakers, but me and David Bell were the original founding members. For the life of me I cannot remember David's breaker name, however, mine was Kid Cosmo, a name surely taken from a member of the rap group, Newcleus. The other two members rotated in and out for certain performances. Brian Thomas was with the group in our CBC Fresh days. In Clean Break's earlier days my little brother Jared was the third member of the crew. We called him Ten Speed (when Jared had his son he called him Three Speed) which was taken from a short lived 80's television series starring Jeff Goldbloom called "Ten Speed and Brown Shoes." The above photo is a photo of an original that ran in the Muncie Newspaper in around 1983. I have it in a frame in my living. The young deer-in-headlights is my brother moonwalking with his image super imposed over and over to appear as if he is gliding across the page. The photo had a caption that read Moon Walkin' in Muncie. The spread was great with lots of photos of the Clean Break Crew (me, David, and Jared) gettin' ill on cardboard. A great photo of David spinning on his head while Ten Speed and Kid Cosmo kept time on the periphery graced the pages. The spread was big and the shoot took place in an alley behind the newspaper building downtown. I'll have more photos from those days at a later date. We thought we were a pretty big deal back then. Aside from the myriad Breakin' contests that took place at local skating rinks we were paid performers with matching uniforms and a manager. David's mom Carol would sew sequins on our sweat suits and book all our gigs, mostly birthday parties for middle school girls and the occasional summer festival. In fact, during one festival, The Buck Creek Festival in Yorktown, IN., we won best float, a float consisting of us riding in the back of a pick up truck while poppin' and lockin'. They gave us a trophy. In another festival at Spring Water Park in Muncie we were given the option of either breakin' on cardboard, earlier than originally planned, on top of the basketball court, which would put us on the Channel 8 news, or, we could dance at the regularly scheduled time on a stage with a linoleum floor. Now, most would say that's a no-brainer and dancing on TV would be the choice. Not us, we were artists and wanted to be at our best for the fans. Mind you, we were only thirteen-years old. We told them we didn't care about TV we wanted the linoleum.

The young girls at those birthday parties would shriek when we danced. It's the closest I've ever been to experiencing celebrity. We were even asked for our autographs on more than one occasion.

R.I.P. BUBBY!

"Let the poppers pop/and the breakers break."
-Run DMC

-jason

KILL YOUR TV

This is Ryan--sorry I cut the top of your head off, Ryan--and he is in my Creative Nonfiction class. Thursday he came to class sporting this shirt and I had to ask him if I could take a photo. He graciously obliged.

When I saw the message I was reminded of my television addiction. I know the crew from A&E's "Intervention," along with friends and family, will be showing up in my living room very soon to confront me and take away my television, to which, I will slump in front of my RCA and wrap my arms around that beautiful glowing giver of information with tears streaming and scream, "OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY!" My mother will be visibly distraught and clenching a photo of my deceased brother and I in which we are spry young boys with our whole lives ahead of us and that will make me cry and wish I was watching television. A show, perhaps, that will bring my Bubby back, even if only for a half an hour at a time, a show like "Family Ties," "Who's The Boss," (he had a huge crush on Alyssa Milano, along with every other prepubescent boy in America), or maybe a network broadcast of "Breakfast Club" where the censorship will be so appalling that I will be forced to turn the channel because I can't stand to hear Judd Nelson yell, "Fail You!" anymore. So, I will land on one of those stations that show movies for guys who like explosions and massive titted blonde's with no brains and "Die Hard," much to my pleasure, will be airing. However, my frustration level will escalate to the red due to Bruce Willis saying, "Yippie-kay-ay Mellon Farmer.

After pleading and more crying the intervention will progress and I will be talked off the ledge and back to the couch where my Grandmother will continually tell me that God wants me to be safe and not watch so much "Sports Center" or reruns of "Entourage." I will weep and tell my Grandma that if there was a God he wouldn't allow network television to air shows like, "Doctor Phil," "Montel," "America's Best Dance Crew," or Soap Operas. She will respond by saying Soap Operas were created by God to show us our flaws and remind us that Jesus died on the cross for our sins. My dad, as usual, will look at her sideways like she is bat-shit crazy while wishing he could turn on the television so he won't have to listen to all the drama. Surely there is a bass fishing show or severe weather warning that cannot be missed.

I really do want to kill my TV. When I think of pulling the plug I am reminded of every zombie movie I've seen where the main character's best friend, mother/father, boyfriend/girlfriend, or sister/brother, is bitten and will soon transform into a blood sucking monster. The character knows he/she has to kill whomever it is, but is reluctant and usually has a touching moment before doing the deed. If I don't kill my tv soon I will turn into a blood sucking monster.

"The TV got us reachin for stars/Not the ones between Venus and Mars/the ones that be readin for parts."
-Talib Kweli


-jason

Team Spirit...Nuff Said

While the Colts were making a run to the playoffs this past season I often spotted this Monte Carlo, sittin' on dubs, and sporting Colt's blue and had to snap a photo. Enjoy!

"Racist everyman, what have you done?/man you've made a killer of your unborn son."
-Jeff Buckley


-jason

The Nothing Sleeps

Let me first say I do not consider myself a poet. However, about three years ago while drinking beer and watching a live Jeff Buckley performance on dvd I penned the poems below. Feel free to comment, tell me I suck or what-not.


the Nothing sleeps

truth trust love life death
And?
myth myth myth
Bury it deep where no one goes
In the woods in the ground
Where the nothing sleeps
Do not wake the nothing
You won’t like the nothing
when it’s angry


the end

i see things that you don’t see
So what does that make me
a poet a doctor a lover a thief?
None of the above
So why do i see the things
you don’t see
It’s a mystical gift
only given to a few
A few who knew
A few who knew the end!!!!!!!!!


map to somewhere

I keep pouring to feel
to feel me
to feel anything
The tired angry me wants no more
so still I pour
My words my love spill
wasted and tired
Going nowhere
meaning nothing
But saying so much
Where to go from here
Who has the map
The lines are blurred and the future’s
a myth
who knows?

no one's going to help

Everlasting soul that’s what “they” say
What do “they” know anyway
Do you know the answer
Keep it to yourself
Cause no one’s going to help
“They’re” only going to help themselves
It comes quick and no one knows
But in the end everyone goes
What about me and what about you
Take me to the truth
There the water is deep cold and dark
“They” want to see but no one can see
So why don’t we
jump
That’ll show em


celebrity

More more more that’s what u want
But you don’t know what u want
Make u think make u want
BRIGHT AND SHINY NOTHING
It’s so hot and beautiful
It wants to burn you and laugh
You’ll know when it’s done
or will u
Stand up SCREAM EXPRESS
shhhhhhhhhhhh
There’s no room for that here
You don’t belong
or do you
Who are you
You don’t know
do you

"Tupac cares if don't nobody else care."
Tupac

-jason

Friends... How many of us have them?

Recently I've reconnected with an old friend, a friend I've passively searched for for the last four years, a friend that, thanks to Facebook, is now only a message away. After he left Hollywood for New York City--a sad day indeed--we lost contact. At one time we roamed the halls of the famed Hollywood hotel, Chateau Marmont. Quickly after being hired on Albin and I became fast friends. He and I share a love for rap music, the good and the bad, hot and not so hot women, staying up late and philosophizing. Albin runs, writes, and publishes his own magazine and website. The magazine is called Young Philosopher and you should definitely give it a shot. Go to www.youngphilosopher.com to check out the young man's daily postings and if you like it spread the word. If you don't like it spread the word anyway because the kid's got talent.

I will be visiting my old friend in March and will report from NYC with photos and shit...

"It aint where you're from/it's where you're at..."
~Rakim

-jason

Addiction, you'll never take me alive...

So, today is the first day for as long as I can remember that I did not turn on my television. To put this feat in perspective I will equate my defiance to that of a crack addict--sans willingness to suck dick for a fix--who decides that on this day and only on this day (because my nerves can't take this shit) that I John/Joan Q. Crack Addict, will be free from the burdens and shackles of rock cocaine. To say this was an easy task would be a grave understatement, for the pull of the electronic box, gravitational in strength, was and is without relent. However, I was triumphant in my quest to avoid the all glowing, little knowing, buzzing, humming, messenger of nothing. But goddamn did I miss it.

That is all for now.

~Jason