In her latest collection of essays, Lamott opens up about her recent marriage, her past drinking problem, as well as her faith. From accidentally taking her dog medications to falling off the cliffs, Lamott revealed hilarious and serious stories from her life. Lamott is one of those writers that I would read anything she had written. This one is uplifting and optimistic.
Tôi quý mến tiếng hát Hương Lan và kính trọng địa vị của chị trong làng âm nhạc Việt Nam từ trong nước đến hải ngoại cho dù tôi rất ít nghe dòng nhạc chị thu âm. Tôi chưa từng nghe chị hát live bao giờ nên vài tuần trước biết chị tham gia chương trình Lung Tùng Xèng nên tôi đón xem.
Đến bây giờ tôi đã không còn nhớ chị đã hát những gì trong chương trình nhưng tôi nhớ giọng ca của chị vẫn không thay đổi. Chất giọng của chị vẫn trong suốt và cảm tình. Tôi không biết về chị nhiều ngoài những lời chị trò chuyện với anh Nghĩa Sữa trong nhóm. Được biết là chị rất yêu mến bác da cam mũ đỏ và thường xuyên đi vận động cho bác những lúc chị không đi hát. Chị và hàng triệu con tim đã rất buồn khi bác đã thua trận trong lần bầu cử vừa rồi. Và chị cho rằng những người muốn bác thua chưa chắc là họ được vui nên hôm nay tôi muốn viết vài lời để trả lời sự thắc mắc của chị.
Không chỉ cái nhân tôi mà 81,283,097 rất vui khi chứng kiến được ông ta bại trận. Nếu như kể hết những lý do tại sao chúng tôi vui thì kể biết chừng nào mới hết. Tôi chỉ tóm tắt một lý do quan trọng nhất là vì nền dân chủ của đất nước Hoa Kỳ. Không phải là đảng Dân chủ (Democrats) mà là nền dân chủ (democracy) đã sống trở lại và vẫn còn tồn tại. Khác với những quốc gia độc quyền như đảng Cộng sản, Hoa Kỳ được tự do là nhờ sự mạnh mẽ của nền dân chủ đã được tạo ra từ lúc nước Mỹ được thành lập. Không một ai, luôn cả tổng thống, có thể nắm hết quyền lực. Từ lúc bác da cam mũ đỏ trở thành tổng thống, nền dân chủ của Mỹ đã bị công kích và đã rơi vào tình trạng hấp hối. Nếu như bác ấy vẫn ngồi ghế tổng thống thì nền dân chủ của Mỹ sẽ chết. Cho nên tôi và hơn 81 triệu dân rất vui khi thấy nền dân chủ của nước Mỹ vẫn tồn tại và mạnh mẽ.
Tuy tôi và chị không cùng lối suy nghĩ về chính trị, tôi đồng ý với chị là mọi chuyện cũng đã xong. Ai sau mình sống vậy. Tôi đã trải qua bốn năm đắng cay và mất mát dưới sự lãnh đạo của bác da cam mũ đỏ. Tôi bảo đảm chị cũng sẽ vượt qua được bốn năm dưới sự lãnh đạo của tổng thống Biden. Chúc chị luôn khỏe mạnh và tiếp tục đem giọng hát ơn trên bang cho để đời thêm sắc màu.
Hơn một năm nay bị bắt làm ở nhà vì đại dịch. Giờ đây thời khóa biểu đâu vào đó thì lại bị bắt trở lại văn phòng đầu tháng Tám. Cũng may Sếp dễ dãi nên cho thêm thời gian để sắp xếp đến cuối tháng Tám hoặc đầu tháng Chín trở lại cũng được. Nếu như cần thiết thì làm ở nhà một hoặc hai ngày mỗi tuần.
Có được Sếp biết thông cảm như thế nên tôi đã trụ cột tại đây gần chục năm mà không hề muốn chạy. Lúc mới nhận việc, tôi nghĩ chỉ làm một hoặc hai năm rồi sẽ tìm công việc mới. Những người trong ngành thiết kế web như tôi luôn thay đổi công việc để tiến xa hơn. Ở một chỗ sẽ không theo kịp những công nghệ mới. Đúng vậy vì mười năm nay tôi không theo đuổi trào lưu mới nào cả. Tôi chỉ theo đuổi và áp dụng những gì cần thiết cho công việc của mình.
Lúc ban đầu làm khá vất vả. Một mình phải chịu rất nhiều trách nhiệm những công việc mà chính bản thân cũng không biết gì cả. Tự miệt mài học hỏi và phải tự thí nghiệm những gì chưa từng làm. Giờ đây mọi công trình đã ổn định. Chỗ đứng vững vàng và có thêm phụ tá. Điều quan trọng nhất là được Sếp hoàn toàn tin cậy cho nên được tự do và thoải mái. Miễn sao công việc hoàn tất tốt đẹp không chậm trễ.
Với tôi giờ đây sự nghiệp tuy quan trọng nhưng tôi cần có thời gian cho gia đình, nhất là khi mấy thằng con còn nhỏ. Tôi cần có sự cân bằng giữa công việc và gia đình. Làm ở nhà đưa con đi học, đi công viên, đi bác sĩ, hoặc buổi trưa mấy cha con kéo nhau đi ăn trưa. Nhờ thế nên gần gũi bọn chúng hơn. Sếp hiểu được và rất cảm thông với chuyện con cái tuy Sếp không có đứa con nào cả.
Hơn nữa tôi cần sự phát triển cho bản thân. Ngoài công việc chính, tôi miệt mài với những dự án riêng như nghệ thuật chữ Việt, viết blog, đọc sách, học trượt băng, hoặc nhận thêm công nghệ thiết kế nho nhỏ. Tuy không liên quan đến công việc chính nhưng những dự án cá nhân cho tôi thêm động lực để đi tiếp trên con đường sự nghiệp của mình. Sếp cũng khuyến khích và tạo điều kiện cho tôi tự phát triển kỹ năng của mình. Và đó là những lý do đã níu kéo tôi ở lại cho đến ngày hôm nay.
Trong tương lai không biết ra sao chỉ mong rằng Sếp đừng nghỉ hưu sớm. Đợi đám nhóc của tôi lớn lúc đó sẽ tính tiếp. Tôi không ngại thay đổi công việc mới. Tôi chỉ ngại thay đổi Sếp. Gặp không đúng Sếp sẽ khiến cho công việc căng thẳng và phiền phức. Tôi đã từng trải nghiệm và không muốn mình phải lâm vào tình trạng đó nữa. Không chỉ Sếp nhưng những người làm chung nhóm cũng rất quan trọng.
Sau khi được lên chất giám đốc, tôi có thêm trợ lý. Tuy vậy tôi vẫn phải học hỏi và trực tiếp làm những công việc quan trọng chứ không giao phó hết cho phụ tá. Tôi không muốn phải dựa vào họ vì khi họ bỏ đi tôi vẫn có thể tiếp tục công việc họ đã làm. Như bây giờ không có phụ tá tôi vẫn làm tròn những công việc.
Tôi rất mãn nguyện với công việc hiện tại của mình. Tôi đã bỏ ra mười năm đầu tư và xây dựng nó. Mọi công trình tốt đẹp theo ý muốn của tôi. Giờ đây chỉ cần tiếp tục chăm sóc và nâng cấp bọn nó để không bị lỗi thời hoặc bị xâm nhập. Giờ đây mới thật sự thưởng thức những thành quả của mình. Nên không cần phải nhảy việc mới tiến tới. Quan trọng là mình biết con đường mình bước tiếp là gì và những công việc gì khiến cho mình phát triển và phấn đấu. Với tôi, đó là đọc, viết, và thiết kế.
When my homie passed away, it dawned on me that life is too damn short to antagonize. Instead of stressing out and worrying about things that are out of my control, I need to focus on things that bring me joy.
Making websites brings me joy and making money from it to feed my family is just a huge bonus. Blogging, which helps me get things off my chest, brings me joy. Reading, which opens up my mind to things I wouldn’t know about, brings me joy. Music that touches my soul brings me joy. Skating, which adds excitement to my boring life, brings me joy. Spending time with family and friends always brings me joy. Of course, getting some love brings me significant joy.
Life is not always rosy. There are challenges, struggles, and losses along the way. I just have to deal with them as they come. Recognizing and appreciating the wonderful things life brings help me navigate the challenges life throws at me. It’s all good, baby, baby! “It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! magazine / Salt-n-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine.” (Nate and I used to bang this classic from Biggie in our car stereo.)
Tupac Amaru Shakur died at the age of twenty-five. Tupac was gunned down when he was at the top of his game. He was young, outspoken, and didn’t give a fuck. He embodied the image of gangster rap. In his music, he expressed eloquently on police brutality and gun violence in the black community. His mantra was, “Live by the gun and die by the gun.”
As a fan of Tupac, I had to get beyond his gangster mentality as well as his misogyny. What Tupac had touched me was the sweet side of his music and he always included it in his albums. His 1991 debut, 2Pacalypse Now, is not my favorite, but “Brenda’s Got a Baby” stood out to me. It demonstrated Tupac’s articulate storytelling. It’s a tragic song about a young black girl who fell in love with the wrong guy. She ended up selling her body and found slain. Tupac narrated Brenda’s story:
She’s twelve years old and she’s havin’ a baby
In love with a molester, who’s sexin’ her crazy
And yet and she thinks that he’ll be with her forever
And dreams of a world where the two of them are together
Whatever, he left her and she had the baby solo
She had it on the bathroom floor and didn’t know, so
She didn’t know what to throw away and what to keep
She wrapped the baby up and threw him in a trash heap.
In 1993, Tupac followed up with Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z.…. In “Keep Ya Head Up,” he showed his tenderness toward women. Tupac rhymed:
Some say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
I say the darker the flesh, then the deeper the roots
I give a holla to my sisters on welfare
2Pac cares if don’t nobody else care
I know they like to beat you down a lot
When you come around the block, brothers clown a lot
But please don’t cry, dry your eyes, never let up
Forgive, but don’t forget, girl, keep ya head up
And when he tells you you ain’t nothin’, don’t believe him
And if he can’t learn to love you, you should leave him
’Cause, sister, you don’t need him
And I ain’t tryin’ to gas you up, I just call ’em how I see ’em
You know what makes me unhappy?
When brothers make babies
And leave a young mother to be a pappy
And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women?
I think it’s time to kill for our women
Time to heal our women, be real to our women
And if we don’t, we’ll have a race of babies
That will hate the ladies that make the babies
And since a man can’t make one
He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one
So will the real men get up?
I know you’re fed up, ladies, but keep ya head up.
Tupac was charming and sweet when it came to women. He was on their side. Unfortunately, he changed completely after he was charged with sexual assault. From a caring gentleman, he turned into a misogynistic asshole.
His 1995’s Me Against the World was released while he was serving time for his sexual assault conviction. The album was dark and menacing as if the world were against him. Nevertheless, Tupac recorded “Dear Mama,” a loving, heartfelt tribute to his mother Afeni Shakur who was a single, addicted mother trying to raise her two kids. Tupac showed his appreciation:
I finally understand
For a woman it ain’t easy tryin’ to raise a man
You always was committed
A poor single mother on welfare, tell me how you did it
There’s no way I can pay you back, but the plan
Is to show you that I understand: you are appreciated.
I still know this song by heart. I remember the lyrics word by word. His third verse reminded me of my mother:
Pour out some liquor and I reminisce
‘Cause through the drama I can always depend on my mama
And when it seems that I’m hopeless
You say the words that can get me back in focus
When I was sick as a little kid
To keep me happy there’s no limit to the things you did
And all my childhood memories
Are full of all the sweet things you did for me
And even though I act crazy
I gotta thank the Lord that you made me
There are no words that can express how I feel
You never kept a secret, always stayed real
And I appreciate how you raised me
And all the extra love that you gave me
I wish I could take the pain away
If you can make it through the night, there’s a brighter day
Everything will be alright if you hold on
It’s a struggle every day, gotta roll on
And there’s no way I can pay you back, but my plan
Is to show you that I understand: you are appreciated
I missed my mama and I never forget the times she never left my bed side when I was sick as a little kid. I appreciated the unconditional love she gave me. “Dear Mama” brings me to tears every time, especially now that my mother is gone.
After joining Death Row Records, Tupac released his double album, All Eyez On Me, in which he offered a wide range of styles. “No More Pain” and “Got My Mind Made Up” were for the thug bangers. “How Do U Want It” and “California Love” were for the club heads. “All Bout U” and “Wonda Why They Call U Bitch” were for the haters. “I Ain’t Mad at Cha” and “Life Goes On” were for the homies that died too young. Listening to “Life Goes On” made me think of my homie Nate. We used to drink together and rap along this track:
As I bail through the empty halls, breath stinkin’ in my jaws
Ring, ring, ring — quiet, y’all, incomin’ call
Plus this my homie from high school, he gettin’ by
It’s time to bury another brother, nobody cry
Life as a baller: alcohol and booty calls
We used to do ’em as adolescents, do you recall?
Raised as G’s, loc’ed out, and blazed the weed
Get on the roof, let’s get smoked out, and blaze with me
Two in the morning and we still high, assed out
Screamin’, “Thug ’til I die!” before I passed out
But now that you’re gone, I’m in the zone
Thinkin’ I don’t wanna die all alone, but now you gone
And all I got left are stinkin’ memories
I love them niggas to death, I’m drinkin’ Hennessy
While tryin’ to make it last
I drank a fifth for that ass when you passed, ’cause life goes on.
Rest in peace, Nate. You will always be in my heart. After Tupac was murdered, I thought his music would end as well, but his posthumous albums continued to come out. R U Still Down? (Remember Me) released in 1997, just a year after his death. Tupac rapped with paranoia and anger on most tracks. On “Hellrazor,” in particular, he spoke out about Latasha who was killed at a convenience store where she bought a bottle of juice. He raged:
Dear Lord if ya hear me, tell me why
Little girl like LaTasha, had to die
She never got to see the bullet, just heard the shot
Her little body couldn’t take it, it shook and dropped
And when I saw it on the news how she bucked the girl, killed Latasha
Now I’m screamin’ fuck the world, in the end
It’s my friends, that flip-flop
Lip-locked on my dick when my shit drop
Thug Life motherfucker, I lick shots
Every nigga on my block dropped two cops
Dear Lord can ya hear me? When I die
Let a nigga be strapped, fucked up, and high
With my hands on the trigger, thug nigga
Stressin’ like a motherfuckin’ drug dealer
And even in the darkest nights, I’m a thug for Life
I got the heart to fight now
Mama raised a hellraiser why cry
That’s just life in the ghetto, do or die.
What I appreciated about Tupac was that he wasn’t afraid to show his sweet and sentimental sides. He was able to lay his soul naked for us to hear his words and to feel his heart. I still wonder how far he would have come if he was still alive today.
After dropping Đán off to summer school, I drove to Wakefield, the skatepark that I fell hard off the high ramp. Although it was still early in the morning, there were a few skaters already on the scene. The roller skater girls already took over the half pipe; therefore, I couldn’t hop on it.
I skated down the straight ramps a bit then headed to the high curve ramp that I had successfully dropped down twice in the past. After my second fall at a different skatepark, however, I hesitated. The ramp looked high and the curve looked steep.
In the past few weeks, it kept bothering me that I could not work up the courage to drop this ramp again. I internalized it when I went to bed. Why can’t I just ignore it? What am I trying to prove? If I were to fall again, I wouldn’t be able to take my ice skating lessons.
I put my left foot on the coping, but I stopped. I stood there for a while and took my foot off the coping. My body was telling me no, but my head kept telling me yes. Then I put my left foot in the coping again and waited and waited. I finally told myself, “Fuck it! Let’s just do it.” I put my right foot in and off I went. I made it down smoothly. The speed felt incredible.
A mother congratulated me. Her daughter asked her if I did it. A guy on the skateboard asked her something and I heard her say, “He went for it.” He gave me a fist pump. I was a bit embarrassed. I did not realize that folks were waiting and watching me from afar to see if I would go for it. I was focusing on my own dilemma. If I knew they were paying attention, I would have backed off.
I was not trying to show off. I didn’t want to prove to anyone, but myself. I wanted to conquer my own fear and to regain my own confidence. Life is too short to not take a bit of risk.
As I drove home to start my work day, I listened to 2pac and “I Wonder If Heaven Got a Ghetto” reminded me of my homeboy Nate. There’s a line that we loved, “I wake up in the morning and I ask myself: Is life worth living? Should I blast myself?” I asked myself the same questions whenever I felt down, but my life now is definitely worth living. I have my ups and downs, but I never let myself fall into depression. I need to stay strong for my boys.
Skating is an activity that I love to do with my boys. If this old man can do it, they have no excuse. I encouraged them to try out the high ramps, but if they don’t want to try, I do not force them. They understand their own risk level to make their own decisions. I hope one day, they will go for it.
I am glad to see more Vietnamese-American voices in the literary world. The latest is from Lý Trần whose debut memoir is captivating, devastating, and moving. Ms. Trần writes with candid and vigor about her experience of growing up in America as a child of Vietnamese-Chinese immigrant parents, working in the nail salon, worshipping the Buddhas, and struggling with depression. From her complex relationship with her parents to her academic failures to her romantic relationship, Ms. Trần opened up about her incredible journey as she made the transition from an immigrant to an Asian American. Her prose is engaging and unflinching. The book is almost 400 pages, but it’s a fast read. Each chapter is a short story with a clear purpose of what she wanted to convey. Trần is a gifted writer. I hope more Vietnamese Americans will pick up this book. You will find it relatable.
Here’s a scene from the nail salon (p. 136):
I wanted so badly for my mother and me to disappear, to start over. It had started out as a new adventure but I didn’t want to be in a nail salon anymore. Seeing my mother, now in her fifties, hunching over the pedicure bowl, hands trembling, unable to understand, unable to communicate, was almost more than I could bear. I prayed silently for a return of the cummerbunds. Even that was better than this. At least we were all together and we had fun. Where were my brothers now? Where was my father?
“Lý!” my mother called again. “What are you doing? Daydreaming? Didn’t I just ask you to come here? I need help. I don’t understand what this woman is saying.”
I got up from my seat and walked over, reluctantly introducing myself to the client.
“I’m very sorry. My mother doesn’t speak much English, but I can translate for you.” As I apologized, I felt a burning sensation in my chest. This woman would never know who we were and where we came from. We were just a couple of clumsy immigrants working on her toes, not worthy of respect. I hated her. I hated her for sitting above us on that leather chair. I hated her for thinking that it gave her power over us. I hated that it did give her power over us. That money was power in this world and we would never be powerful.
Still, I translated.
It is not a secret that I am obsessed with Jay-Z’s music. I have spent many years listening to his albums and analyzing his lyrics. Without a doubt, Jay has proven to be one of the greatest rappers alive. He has the flow; he has the cadence; he has the delivery; but what made him a lyrical genius is his words. He holds the power of words, in which he has been crafting and developing before he even picked up the mic.
I always loved the story of his writing process. Jay started writing in his notebooks at an early age. When he was out hustling and an idea came to him, he could reach for his notebooks at home; therefore, he started writing on brown paper bags or whatever piece of scrap paper he could find at the moment. Then he would lose those papers. As a result, he wrote them in his head instead. He built longer and more complex verses inside his head. Jay was known for his paperless recording process. He went into the studio, listened to the beats, and just spat his verses without a word written down.
I have been adapting his process into my own writing as well for this blog. I can sit in front of my computer and let the words flow off my head. In twenty years of blogging, I never had an issue where I stared at the blank screen and didn’t know what to write. Something always came up. Whenever I was on the road and an idea started to form, I just started writing in my head until I had access to my computer to type up my words. This piece is a perfect example. While driving to Lancaster, Pennsylvania and listening to Jay, the concept for this piece came to mind and I knew exactly what I wanted to write.
Over his long career as a rap artist, Jay had released 13 studio albums for himself and a handful of collaborative projects. I don’t listen to all of them, but the albums I listened to I often revisited them over the years. In my own perspective, these are the albums that defined Jay as a powerhouse lyricist. Although the albums I am about to mention can be listened to from the beginning to end and I highly recommend them, I won’t delve into each individual track.
Right off his 1996’s debut release, Reasonable Doubt, Jay wasted no time declaring, “Can’t Knock a Hustler,” in which he rapped, “We do dirt like worms, produce G’s like sperm / ’Til legs spread like germs.” In “Dead Presidents 2,” Jay sampled a hot line from Nas (“I’m out for presidents to represent me”) and made it a hot song. Later on, he dissed Nas about it too.
In 1998, Jay released his wildly commercial success Vol. 2… Hard Knock Life with hits like “Hard Knock Life (Ghetto Anthem),” “Money, Cash, Hoes” (with DMX), and “Can I Get a Fuck You?” (with Ja Rule and Amil). This is not one of my favorite albums, but it put Jay-Z on the mainstream map.
A year later, 1999, Jay followed up with Vol. 3… Life and Times of S. Carter, in which he walked the line between a hard hustler and chart chaser. As I re-listened to “Big Pimpin’,” I couldn’t help, but wonder if Jay ever regretted making one of the most misogynist rap verses ever. Although it is so gross, the entire verse is worth quoting in full:
You know I thug ’em, fuck ’em, love ’em, leave ’em
‘Cause I don’t fuckin’ need ’em
Take ’em out the hood, keep ’em lookin’ good
But I don’t fuckin’ feed ’em
First time they fuss I’m breezin’
Talkin’ about, “What’s the reasons?”
I’m a pimp in every sense of the word
Bitch, better trust and believe ’em
In the cut where I keep ’em
’Til I need a nut, ’til I need to beat the guts
Then it’s “beep beep” and I’m pickin’ ‘em up
Let ’em play with the dick in the truck
Many chicks wanna put Jigga’s fists in cuffs
Divorce him and split his bucks
Just because you got good head
I’ma break bread, so you can be livin’ it up?
Shit, I part with nothin’, y’all be frontin’
Me give my heart to a woman?
Not for nothin’, never happen; I’ll be forever mackin’
Heart cold as assassins, I got no passion
I got no patience and I hate waitin’
Ho, get your ass in and let’s ride!
How do you defend the undefendable? I am sure Jay doesn’t need anyone to defend his work, but it took me years to realize that he had thrown a line in there to defend himself: “I’m a pimp in every sense of the word.” This is Big Pimpin’ talking, not Big Jay. Jay just retold the story of a pimp.
On September 11, 2001, the same day American was under attack, Jay released “The Blueprint,” which was filled with lyrical prowess. Right off “The Takeover,” Jay belittled Nas:
You’ve been in this 10, I’ve been in it five; smarten up, Nas!
Four albums in 10 years, nigga? I could divide
That’s one every… let’s say two, two of them shits was due
One was “nah…,” the other was Illmatic
That’s a one-hot-album-every-10-year average
And that’s so (Lame)
Speaking of counting, Jay enjoyed counting his money on “U Don’t Know”:
I smartened up, opened the market up
One million, two million, three million, four
In eighteen months, eighty million more
Now add that number up with the one I said before
You are now lookin’ at one smart black boy
Mama ain’t raised no fool
Put me anywhere on God’s green earth, I’ll triple my worth, motherfucker
On the same track, Jay boasted about his hustle:
I sell ice in the winter, I sell fire in Hell
I am a hustler, baby, I’ll sell water to a well
I was born to get cake, move on and switch states
Cop the coupe with the roof gone and switch plates
Was born to dictate, never follow orders, dick face
Get your shit straight, fucker, this is Big Jay
On November 12, 2002, Jay released his lyrical pinnacle, The Black Album. On “What More Can I Say,” Jay announced his retirement:
Pound for pound, I’m the best to ever come around here
Excludin’ nobody, look what I embody:
The soul of a hustler, I really ran the street
A CEO’s mind, that marketin’ plan was me
And no I ain’t get shot up a whole bunch of times
Or make up shit in a whole bunch of lines
And I ain’t animated like, say, a Busta Rhymes
But the real shit you get when you bust down my lines
Add that to the fact I went plat’ a bunch of times
Times that by my influence on pop culture
I’m supposed to be number one on everybody list
We’ll see what happens when I no longer exist
Fuck this man!
From “December 4th” to “Encore” and “Moment of Clarity” to “99 Problems,” if Jay were to bow out, he would always be remembered as one of rap’s greatest lyricists. Fortunately, Jay couldn’t leave rap alone because the game needed him. His next four studio releases didn’t do much until he collaborated with Kanye West.
Watch the Throne released in 2011. What a pair they made. As “H.A.M” suggested, Jay and Ye went as hard as motherfuckers on every track. “Who Gon Stop Me,” in particular, sums up Jay’s success story:
When you’re growing up worthless
Middle finger to my old life
Special shoutout to my old head
If it wasn’t for your advice
A nigga would have been so dead
I’m living life til these niggas kill me
Turn this up if you niggas feel me
I’m riding dirty, tryna get filthy
Pablo Picasso, Rothkos, Rilkes
Graduated to the MoMA
And I did all of this without a diploma
Graduated from the corner
Y’all can play me for a muthafuckin’ fool if you wanna
Street-smart and I’m book-smart
Coulda been a chemist ’cause I cook smart
Only thing that can stop me is me, hey
And I’ma stop when the hook start, hol’ up
Jay indeed did it without a diploma. He didn’t need the official education to prove that he had what it took to be extremely successful. He did it with literate and literary. He got wealthy through his execute mind, but his words got him there.
In 2017, Jay released 4:44, his most emotionally naked album yet. On the title track he apologized to his wife:
I seen the innocence leave your eyes
I still mourn its death and
I apologize for all the stillborns
’Cause I wasn’t present, your body wouldn’t accept it
I apologize to all the women whom I toyed with your emotions
’Cause I was emotionless
And I apologize ’cause at your best, you are love
And because I fall short of what I say I’m all about
Your eyes leave with the soul that your body once housed
And you stare blankly into space
Thinkin’ of all the time, you wasted it on all this basic shit
So I apologize
I am just scratching the surface here. Jay has more lyrical depth than I can offer in this piece. If you are interested in his work, listen to the albums I have highlighted above. You can also pick up a copy of Michael Eric Dyson’s Jay-Z: Made in America, in which the author examines Jay’s role as a gifted lyricist.
I am not sure when Jay will release his next album, but I am definitely looking forward to listening to it. Until then, I will continue to enjoy his past works.
Friday morning, I woke up early and drove two and a half hours from Fairfax, Virginia to Lancaster, Pennsylvania to attend a traditional Buddhist ceremony for my homeboy Nate who passed away earlier this week due to a massive heart attack. The place was crowded inside; therefore, I just hung outside. I spotted a few recognizable faces even though I hadn’t seen them in over a decade.
After the ceremony, lunch was served. By the time I went to the line, all the food was gone. Sim, Nate’s older brother, invited me to his house to grab a quick bite before heading to the funeral home to see him for the last time before the cremation. By the time we arrived at the funeral home, which was the same place we chose for our mom, Nate’s family and friends were already there. I took a close look at him for the last time and said goodbye to my dear friend. His eldest sister Phan said a few words about her youngest brother. Nate lived his life to the fullest and he had a big heart. I fully concurred.
Since the cremation was reserved for family members only, I left the funeral home to visit my mom’s grave. I brought her some yellow roses and burned a few incense sticks. I stayed by her side and talked to her for a while. I missed her madly.
I headed back to Sim’s house to hang out a bit. He had a nice entertainment room in the basement with arcade games, a pool table, a foosball table, a gym, and a bar. Since when did Sim start to drink? Other than being an alcoholic, he was the same old Sim. He made me a gin and tonic and we played Street Fighters like the good old days. We took a Patron shot with a few old friends and reminisced about the past. Sim made me a Russian Mule and another one. I had a chance to catch up with their older brother Kumpherk, their nephew Quintin, and their cousins from Massachusetts. The liquor kicked in and I was talkative, especially with the people I hadn’t kept in touch for over a decade.
I left Sim’s house to meet up with my sister, niece, nephew, and Carol (their friend). I tried to eat, but couldn’t eat much. I ordered more drinks. I was planning on driving back to Virginia, but I didn’t think I could make it home. I stayed at my sister’s house just to be safe.
As I was lying in bed and trying to sleep, I started to get emotional. I lost my parents and my close friend within a few months. I thought liquor could help ease the pain, but it made the matter worse. I twisted and turned as the alcohol fucked with my head. I pulled out my phone to write. Then a Kanye verse came to mind: “When we die, the money we can’t keep / But we probably spend it all ’cause the pain ain’t cheap.” Life is short and full of suffering; therefore, we should just live to the fullest like Nate had. Even if we have to leave this temporary earth early, we would have no regrets.
I picked up Đán at the end of his summer-school day. As he hopped into the minivan, he said, “I love you, daddy.” I replied, “I love you, too.” He said, “I am surprised that you didn’t say ‘No, you don’t.’” I responded, “Of course, I know you love me. You don’t have an option.”
As I drove home he started telling me a game he played in the classroom. He had to write down one lie and two truths. He wrote, “I have a cat,” which is a lie. Then he wrote, “My brother Đạo hates me,” which is his opinion, not the truth. Then he wrote, “I hate myself,” which is also not the truth.
His teacher got worried and sent him to the principal’s office. The principal told him that she was concerned about our family; therefore, she will call me or my wife to talk about our loathsome family members. He apologized that he got us in trouble. He thought he was being comedic because I kept telling him that being a comedian makes tons of money.
I was laughing the whole way home, but I am not looking forward to the call from the principal. I am just going to pass it on to my wife.