Rap Music: Does It Belong In My Cubist Epoch?

If you missed yesterday’s post, you have to be asking yourself “What the f*&k is an epoch?”

It’s okay, I was flummoxed too.

Two hours into my Cubist phase, even I was still thinking epoch was murdered by Notorious P.U.F.F. Daddy back in nine-six. I couldn’t have been more wrong. What in the world could Cubism have to do with rap music anyways?

Nothing, until now. In yesterday’s post, I also claimed I wasn’t creative enough to produce a Cubist work. I couldn’t have been more wrong there either. Would an uncreative person have the revolutionary idea to combine Cubism and rap music into one fluid art movement called rapism? That looks bad. Try again. Would an uncreative person have the revolutionary idea to combine Cubism and rap music into one fluid art movement called Curap? No, an uncreative person would not have that idea. That’s why I had that idea.

If yesterday’s painting was an example of my ‘early Cubist phase,’ then today’s installment is surely ‘high Curap.’ Here we see the artist (me) rip through the fabric of our tangible universe and stumble into a dimension all his own.

Heaven for a G, by Michael Cedarwood. (2015) Microsoft Paint

The painting again makes use of cubes, there’s some liquor in there, and double meaning is incorporated—the ‘G’ in question stands of course for Georges Braque, and also for the way that rap music uses the letter, as an abbreviation of ‘guy.’

The epoch rages on.

 

358th Post Blowout!!!!

This is the 358th post of this blog. A great deal of labour, devotion, and inspiration has gone into all that writing. Let’s celebrate with a quote from a British chap:

“All the labour of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system, and the whole temple of man’s achievement must inevitably be buried beneath the debris of a universe in ruins.” —Bertrand Russell

Dammit.

You Can Spend Your Entire Life Building Bridges…….

Years back, when I was working in sustenance delivery, my manager got a thoughtful look in his eye and told me this:

“You know, you can spend your entire life building bridges. But, during that time, you suck one cock, just one, and everybody remembers you as a cocksucker, not a bridge builder.”

At the time, I wondered why he had singled me out as the keeper of his deep, dark secret.

Until today, I didn’t realize that his words transcended sexual experimentation.

Two years ago at a friend’s cabin, I bought a 36 pack of beer for only $12. Just one 36 pack. And the beer, Boxer Lager, has a crown on every can. A crown! What symbol has humanity produced that surpasses the crown as a mark of respect and honor? Yet the insults rained down on me all weekend, even as I defended the fiscal responsibility of my choice. I had spent less money and gotten more alcohol than anyone at that cabin. America is supposed to reward those who have more money and more things than people with less money and fewer things.

Flash forward, to now: These days, I buy better beer. And even if I continue to do so for the rest of my life, I’ll still get calls like this one, which came in just this morning: “Hey, I saw a guy walking down the street with a 36 pack of Boxer, reminded me of you.”

I’ll always be remembered as the guy who made a wise, thoughtful decision to save money, and get more for the little money that was spent, even if that meant drinking something that tasted like it leaked out of a homeless man with bad kidneys.

 

 

 

My New Catchphrase: “It’s Bath Time, Baby!”

“I’ve always told people that for each person there is a sentence—a series of words—which has the power to destroy him…….another sentence exists, another series of words, which will heal the person. If you’re lucky you will get the second; but you can be certain of getting the first: that is the way it works.” —Philip K. Dick, from his novel VALIS

I already know the series of words that can, and have destroyed me. There are a few, in fact. My destruction has materialized in the following forms, as well as subtle variations: “Hey, you can’t pee there,” or “Stop picking at it,” and “That was in the garbage, you know.”

So, then, what series of words would heal me? I sat down and did some soul-searching. I thought about what mine should be. Nothing came. I cogitated a while longer. Who am I? What have I become these last few years? This quotation by Mr. Christopher Wallace, aka Biggie Smalls, aka The Black Frank White, aka The Notorious B.I.G., aka Biggie Biggie Bay-Bay, the man with the sycamore style, that’s more sicka than yours, tells the complete story of where my life is right now:

“I’m flamin’ gats, aimin’ at, these fuckin’ maniacs who put my name in raps.”

For a few days, that was my catharsis. In a tight, easy-flowing package, my redemption was defined. I almost kept it. Then I thought some more. I realized that perhaps my healing verse should come not from without, but from within.

My series of rejuvenating words needed something that would really kick you in the crotch, then steal your wallet. I thought about things I say at parties that always give rise to joviality, things like “This puppy needs some chow. Woof!” I’ve ridden that one to deafening heights of laughter. But I’m more than that.

I once had a saying that went “First you dump it, then you pump it.” More good words to live by. They rhyme. But I recently realized they don’t mean anything.

Here’s something I like to say when things aren’t going to plan: “I’m not gonna let it pucker my panties.” That was so hard to let go. But then I realized I would have to be wearing panties like all the time for it to be applicable. So I moved on.

I almost gave up. This was a few Saturdays ago. And on Saturday, of course, comes bath night. As I let hot water fill my tub, I thought to myself, “It’s bath time, baby!”

I was so excited I didn’t even take a bath. That was my healing phrase, because at bath time, anything goes. I can pee, pick, eat, talk, and do anything else you can possibly imagine in there.

And that, my friends, is how I found my healing sentence.

 

“My Other Car Is A Tiny Penis”

Bumper sticker, spotted today on a Cadillac full of old women: “My other car is a tiny penis.”

What does that even mean?

Stuff That Kids Say

Quote of the day:

“I just threw up in my mouth, but it went back down. Sometimes I do that.” -my five-year-old nephew.

Fartin’ Around On 11/11/11

Did anyone else notice that today’s date is all ones? Weird. Anyways, it’s also Veteran’s Day. One of my favorite veterans, Kurt Vonnegut, was also born on this day in 1922 (RIP). He gave us this quote in Timequake, which just may be my favorite of all time:

“We are here on Earth to fart around. Don’t let anybody tell you any different!”

Word.

Wise Words

“However desperate the situation and circumstances, don’t despair. When there is everything to fear, be unafraid. When surrounded by dangers, fear none of them. When without resources, depend on resourcefulness. When surprised, take the enemy itself by surprise.” -Sun Tzu

A quote from a wise man. Yet, because it was written over 2,000 years ago, I think it could use a little updating. This quote, by me, can be applied to life today, while saying essentially the same thing.

“However broke you are, have money. If a policeman maces you and then grinds your face into the pavement, do not be in pain. If you have been laid off from your job, do not stop working there. If you are proven guilty, be innocent. If you are dead, live.”