Crevices of the Mind: Best Jam Session, barely any music.

In the movie Up in the Air, George Clooney plays a motivational speaker that advocates everything but commitment. Whenever he would do a speach, he would ask his audience to imagine that they were going on a trip..or vacation. And he'd ask, "What would you put in your bag?" Old friends? New shoes? Ipod? Sentiments, like pictures that remind you of old friends? "Pictures are for people that can't remember," he said. I remember that. And I've thought about that a lot over the time. Pictures are memories. Agreed. But memories aren't always reminders, nor are they always for ones who can't remember. Sometimes....Most times....shit, every time...memories play the role of a teacher. A memory cannot only help you remeber but also open your eyes to things that you've never even known or realized to begin with. Memories show you more than what was. Memories show you what will become.

& this lil' youngbol' here?? is not the past, nor the present. He is the future, which is beyond us ALL. I love him just because he exists. And I embrace that feeling, even though I wonder how love could fall from the sky the way it does for him. I don't understand...

But nonetheless, I'm so glad that the past left me such a great present.

A merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

-peeeaaace.

Prepare for

The best of 2009: We Ride Septa edition

Hey you (Yes YOU),

One day you wake up and the world that you're preparing to walk out into won't be the the same as it was yesterday. Sure, the sky will still blue (masking the CFC'S seeping out of our ozone), the air will smell the same, the people you meet will be unchanged, there will still be that undetermined stain on the sidewalk, in the mirror you'll greeted by the same face..But the same things won't matter anymore.

You might wake up and put on a pair of Visvims instead of Jordan's, Jordan's instead of Nike's, Nike's instead of no name's..Or you might just wear a different brand of socks. Maybe the change won't be physical either..Maybe on this particular day you decided to say "hi" to that girl who always gets on at the stop after yours, or maybe you'll finally punch that douche bag in the face, there might even be a chance that you say something "douchey-er" than you normally would, maybe you'll get punched in the face.

Whenever that day is I hope that you come to this blog and find a reason to smile, frown, be perplexed, or become annoyed that we've yet to post for the 4th consecutive day. On that day that you wake up and the world has changed, I hope that your faith, hate, love, boredom (or whatever brings you to We Ride Septa regularly) does not change.

Bear with us

: )

"Noise Sweatshirt"

Dope.....

"I didn't know central was so diverse." -Arlene Ackerman

So, the superintendent of the Philadelphia School District comes to the alma mater of both me and Nya - formally known as CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL (byotch). During an assembly, the students basically boo'd her off as she was introduced to the stage....

Agreed - Central students are jackasses, okay. Fine. But that does not excuse Dr. Ackerman (the Supa).

Here's the situation at hand: Dr. Ackerman wants to make philadelphia a more successful environment with the plan to uplift 85 public elemntary, middle, and high schools with a more hands-on personell and a better application and acceptance system that makes school with great success a little more accessible to the less fortunate. That's great =D, round of applause.

I'm sure she comes with great intentions, and if not....big surprise, she's a politician. But w/e. I think that making all the underacheiving schools better is excellent, as long as it has nothing to do with imagine 2014 (But it does. read up). But, because this little agenda involves loosely accepting less qualified students into special admission schools, central don't real fux wit it.

This is basically a case of, "I'm trying to bring affirmative action into the school system to make this city better." Little does Dr. Ackleman know, the exact opposite will happen and central will eventually ooz down into a neighborhood school. Central knows though..that's why theye boo'd her ass.

I guess every central student knows exactly what it's like to be a "rich white man" in America right now. I mean, here you have someone that wants to create equal opprotunity for the less fortunate, and the more fortunate boo's her off stage. The ones with priveledge, and opprotunity, and a future ahead of them boo's this person that wants the rest of the school system to have what they have. Not knowing that the money to build their new classy library was the money taken away from schools that underacheive because they dont have money to begin with.

But hey, know one wants to make a difference at their own expense. Right, rich white guy? Riight.

Politics just entertain me. that's why I watch CNN like it's MTV. I'm just sayin

-peeeeeeeaaaaace

The Crevice of the mind: Beginnings

Just to clear up the confusion, "The Crevices of the Mind" contributor to the bottom left is no longer a contributor. That was Samir & I's joint name while we were the only writers on this blog.

Any who. I don't know what it is about that combination of words that gets me but, it just sounds too beautiful not to be written multiple times. Possibly because it really is (and describes) everyone's innermost thoughts, emotions, grievances, etc..Or perhaps because I find it to be catchy (kind of like cuh, or fuck it). In any case, some time last April I was inspired enough by the words to consecrate a multiple stanza'ed set of rhyming thoughts. After presenting it to my Mom, Sister, and inevitably facebook..It was forgotten about.

Prior to any thought of the poem, I was alone (with the exception of my camera) in a dark hallway in the Senate building shortly after the inauguration. Months after that, a friend and I ventured outside of our Hall to find that the campus was absolutely gorgeous when barely lit and soaked. And tonight after searching Hewleus for a worthy post, I've discovered that when put together, the combination depicts the closest thing (on earth) to my phantasm of that holy place.

Know this though, I said on earth for a reason. If for whatever reason God were to read this, bless me with a spaceship, diving suit, camcorder, and a lobotomy; I would be able to show you my actual mental image.

Until that happens, this will have to do.


Welcome to the Crevices of the Mind

Eighteen with the world ahead of her
stars to the left of her
and the sun shines down on her perpetual dreams.
Purposely she's placed them with forever so she'd never lose sight of what she'd seen.
See she's been chasing forever with a steam.
So lost to find it-
as she rolls up her sleeves
to breathe air from the life intended just for she.
Oh, the moons beams a smile, intended just for she.
So her intentions in life match her aspirations perfectly
and vividly,
intuition screams,
"you'll cross the sky to light up the night like astronomy.
Destined to be seen, seperate from all commodities.
Extend bare palms in exchange for comraderies.
If found comatose they'd dissect you like lobotomies."

So she kept a surgeons hand on her thoughts,
deliberate and cautious with a fear to get lost,
in the crevices of the mind. Beware at all cost,
deeper than depth lies the valley of frost.
Memories of a void in the soul, refusal to be whole-
after she'd let her guard down and took the armor off.
Stripped of all and dignity, she fought-
only to fall and find that she'd lost
hope and life
but her angel lifted her
and that dark tasted light-
as she inhaled an engine's exhaust.
High enough to touch the sun, when the plane shutoff
and the angel left her to fly and kiss the clouds so soft.

So gently she descended past the stars and time that she'd wrought,
touching only the sins that she'd been and the rights that she'd wronged.
Blowing cosmic powder on the lyrics of a song that she'd yet to write.
Still it's melody haunts her mind in the black of the night.
So loneliness has gone.

and now forever calls you,on and on-
in pursuit it seems she's running on and on.
No destination just, on and on.
The wings are off, just on and on-
top of the world where the entrance is drawn-
in green and red
noise is dead and a sight beyond it she's yet to find.
In circles on and on and on and on until she breaks cycle into the crevices of the mind

Silver Collection Jordan VI

The crevices of The mind

Hewleus Prime (my laptop) is stuffed to the very last mb of his Memory with my photo's, poetry, english essays, video's, and music. If Hewleus could speak I'm sure that he'd tell me that he's too young to harbor everything that I have ever thought/felt. But he cannot talk, and each day when I'm not taking advantage of everything social in my dorm, writing on the blog, melting my brain in class, or staring at the creme' ceiling; Hewleus is learning more & more about me. He keeps sending me little signs (virtual memory too low) and frankly I've grown just as tired of it.

So I sat and I thought about it, "Why give all of myself to someone who doesn't appreciate me? There must be someone, something out there that sits in wait of something new to lay their eyes over, to laugh at, to grimace at, to take and call their own with no regard to how I feel about it...There must be somewhere, someplace that I can put all of this nonsense."

..And that's when it hit me, it is possible that someone visits this blog daily, looking for something new to read or to think about; with no avail. In fact, you're reading this now because you're hoping that I won't dissapoint you.

I do not plan to.

Welcome to the Crevices of the mind, free of anything that you've seen anywhere else. Photography, poetry, random thoughts, maybe a video here or there. Everything that you will see under anything entitled "The Crevices of The Mind" is a direct product of the mind, body and soul.

Here is a poem that I wrote a little while ago, with matters of the heart on my mind obviously. I hope that you enjoy and I'd appreciate your comments.

Welcome again,

"They say that love's a destination,

so for now I'm complacent, patient.

Pacing myself, slowing my heart beat for the day that I might face it.

Fed up with the facades and fools growing closer to the spaces

that love dwells.

Contanminating a land not meant to be tainted

by time,

but of it I know well.

Hours have past these years at last,

growing closer to the day that I'd be under spell

once again, through fields of dreams and the backwoods of hell

where once I fainted.

And faintly became amazed at the ways

that under daze sanity and sense do fade like the ringing of the bells,

marking the end of days fueled by youth and well



Breathing's not so easy, not so alone now.

Grown now, surrounded by glazed eyes,

drone's who's intentions only time will tell.

Is it love that I have within my sights?

Only time will tell.

And only this rhyme can tell my tale of a heart that failed to beat slow enough

rapid contractions caused my actions to act like I was so in love,

which I was.

But for some I guess that's the killer of a buzz that they call crush

So her crush was crushed,

and I got crushed.

Came back from a cloud called love

and she took flight to the sky called lust

See she might never flee to a place that she couldn't feel when her eyelids fell

The cloud was too high for her to perceive so her eyelids fell,

in wait of the sun to highlight the sky and undo the spell-

under which we'd fallen.

And that made things too hard to believe.

Lung full of sky but too hard to breathe.

Wheezing was the sound of my evenings

but easy.

Here I am now, with nothing but time by my feet

that creep closer to the land of the sweet

believe me, my mind has aged and my heart's been seasoned.

For just long enough to leave me staring at the ceiling sleepless,

feeling a little bit beaten wishing love woud relieve me-



or passion would free me from this journey.

This cursed traverse where mental roads have burnt me,

screamed on the inside so only my demons could have heard me

and turned me to neglect the progress that I might have made.

Slave to the story from a book that's been misplaced,

titled lost love, binded in leather, pleasure, and feathers from the birds of space-

stars I mean with ink that's green and a map on the last page.

At a place that few have traveled to by mind than chose to erase-

the directions for protection of a heart who could no longer fight it

or it's inhabitants.



Back from this place, loss on my face,

but feel regret for time lost?

I haven't since.

Nor do I wish to rewind it,

I'm not a victim but a culprit of misguiding

It seems to me that in light or on a scribe love is where you find it,

or choose to write it.

etched on a tree, or in a set of pretty brown eyes that I've found to be blinding

or trying, with every step that I take temptation is hiding.

Disguised as lips or fingertips that confine me from writing and flying in hopes of finding-

where love dwells."

9. Siddartha.

Siddartha is a great book. It taught me a lot about time, and how it should be spent. We all live so worried because time is running short, running out, and yet it is running non-stop. And no one seems to notice that time is simply running us.

"The concept of time is embedded in me. I can turn off all my clocks and alter my own wristwatch to run backwards (r.i.p. grandpop ike!), but when it's all said and done, my obligation to cope with society (and not be considered a mad man) requires me to cope with the illusion of time. All my life, I have known time to be everything. Time is money, money is resource. Time is numbered because "life's shorrt". Some have more time than others. Therefor, time is of value; all of this is true. Time is one thing that binds us all together into what we call...socity. It's something that we all know, but take for granted because the concept of time is embedded in all of us. It is society's heartbeat that circulates substance into us all collectively by the second. We need time as a whole, but between you and I, it is only an illusion. It is not a factor. It does not exist. Between you and I, there is only right now. Not the hint of our tomorrows, nor the shadows of the past...only now."

R.I.P. Grandpop

-peeeeeeaaaaace

Round something

Mondays



Divided X American Apparel X APC X Vans



American Apparel X 10 deep X American Apparel X Jordan



American Apparel X American Apparel X APC X Jordan

Tuesdays



Thrift X American Apparel X American Apparel X Sperry



American Apparel X American Apparel X APC X Nike



BDG X Theory X American Apparel X American Apparel X Clarks



American Apparel X Undrcrwn X APC X Vans

Wednesdays



CHIT X American Apparel X Jordan



CHIT X American Apparel X APC X Vans



Thrift X American Apparel X American Apparel X Vans



Divided X American Apparel X Jordan

Thursdays



American Apparel X American Apparel X Nike



BDG X Ice Cream X APC X Nike



American Apparel X American Apparel X American Apparel X Clarks



Divided X American Apparel X Clarks


Fridays



American Apparel X American Apparel X APC X Vans



Divided X American Apparel X Clarks



Ralph Lauren X American Apparel X Clarks

I apologize for an intense lack of words on the blog lately.
WRS will be returning to the normalcy within the next few weeks (during winter break). Bear with us.

Air Jordan 2010

8. redskins cheerleader

7. ingredientx.com

At first glance, it may not seem like something to take seriously but he drops a lot of science! AND IT'S FUNNY

APC Winter 2009

6. Booty Pop

lol...This is what it's come to, huh.

5. Mos Def X MF DOOM

Mos Def doin Meet Grinder off of Madvillain




I smell a collaaaaaaaaaab!
& Shouts to Chenidu for the heads up.

-peeeeeeeaaaaace

4.

Young Ryan Leslie.

3. Priority!

shit I could live by.

-peeeeeeeaaaaace
Priority - Mos Def

2. SEPTA...wtf

-peeeeeeeaaaaace

1.

So, I made a trip out to the Art Museum this Sunday. Unplanned, unexpected, but whatever. I was feeling a little "blah" at the time and I just wanted to fi...uhgh, It's hard to explain.


Thomas Eakins - The Gross Clinic
Made A visit to the art museum this Sunday, and saw some REALLY cool shit.

Kay Sage - Tomorrow Is Never

Georges Braque - Violin and Newspaper
(He has this awesome thing for violins. lol)

Jasper Johns - Skin With O'hara Poem

Lee Krasner - Composition

Andy Warhol - Little Electric Chair
(I'd look him up, he has some really cool "Pop Art")

Jackson Pollock - No. 1

Sometimes you may feel lonely, or just sad or pathetic...And that's great. Becuase in the midst of all that misery, being able to comiserate with the things that you love most is the greatest feeling. I think I might've exposed myself to so many different things this sunday. I can't even really describe the peace in mind I have right now, but I can say that I do have peace in mind. I'm babbling....there is a point to this though.

*AH!
Try going out to an art gallrey once or twice. Shit, hit up the Art Museum! I don't how appealing these'll look on your computer screen, but I can definately tell you they're no where near as touching as the real thing..

-peeeeeeeaaaaace

Phuck yeah.

Phillies lead world series 1-0. (6-1)


Cliff Lee went to work. Chase Utley went to work. Jimmy Rollins screwed up our shutout.

It's cool though, I can settle for that blowout. lol
Can't wait till Pedro starts pitching tomorrow. Smh

Cover of, a song I love

The FRAY - Heartless from IE HAGY on Vimeo.

As much as I love Mr. West, this song sounds a lot better coming from The Fray. That is, if you excuse the awkwardness of their use of "homies and yo".

Sydni Yoshie Rounds

Back when my sole concerns in the world were sneakers and the WDYWT thread on ISS, Sydni Yoshie was Queen. Beautiful, creative, outspoken, and Eighteen; she embodied anything that I had ever thought about. Her photography was different, impressive. In the close to two years since she's passed I've seen too many pictures from "photographers" with nothing more than a focused subject and a blurred background..Sydni's Photo's all seemed to concretize who she was, and that artistic region of the mind that everyone has, but few showcase.

Browsing a tattoo thread, she had posted a picture of hers; a watch who's hands were on the number's of her brother's death. The tattoo was unique and all the more heartbreaking when she too passed away, a victim of reckless driving.

Funny how a close to complete stranger can have such a profound effect on someones life; Six months after her death I got my first camera and haven't been able to find anything that ignites my passion more, with the exception of writing. It's amazing how someone can change your life without even trying, just by being themselves.

With that I reiterate, be yourself and touch a life.

R.I.P Sydni Yoshie Rounds

This should be easy

University life has turned into everything that I expected it to be; The drinking, the parties, the madness in the residence halls, the cafeteria food that makes you long for broccoli and beef (..fresh, and REAL from home), the bad room mate, the good room mate, the ramen, the good teachers, the bad teachers, the "broken alarms clocks", midterms that cause some to stay in their rooms for days (afterwards)..The students.

Dear Readers,

As much I love being down here, and enjoying this charmed life..I might be dead by the end of this year. All jokes aside there have been two deaths on campus that I know of, one kidnapping, and at least three separate "region" fights. You probably won't ever hear about any of it because that's how well they can keep stuff hidden.

Less than one hundred yards away from my residence hall a girl was robbed, and then stabbed to death by a group of locals, another girl was kidnapped in broad daylight in front of the dining hall. Groups from New York and DC felt the need to prove to each other (physically) which city "goes the hardest", more ambulances outside of my dorm.

Somehow I'm beginning to question my personal safety, and my decision to stay here or to transfer to Temple U.

If it weren't for the friends I've made and the confidence that I have in my teachers I'd probably be gone by the end of this semester. Everything down here has grown on me, despite anything that I might have said, this is not a bad school.

Homesickness doesn't bother me anymore, I like missing Philadelphia. Who's to say that the crimes on campus at Temple aren't as heinous and well hidden?

What to do..What to do?

Being in the middle of nowhere is okay with me. Worrying that there might be a masked killer in the corn field bothers me a bit, but it could just as easily be someone in my Composition class, or any troubled local.

..Reader I am asking you(s), I'm in need of an opinion outside of family & friends..

What to do?