Friday, March 9, 2018

Wuz Up?!

What do Becky G, Dr. Seuss, Method Man, Rebel Wilson, Jon Bon Jovi, Daniel Craig, Ben Roethlisberger and Rizm all have in common? That's right you incredibly smart people. We share the same birthday, which gave birth to inspiration leading me to post at this time. There will be a more detailed/personal account of exactly how I was inspired on  my RaisingRizm blog, so stay tuned in to check that out in upcoming post.

Ya'll know who it is! Rizm! But ya'll don't know where I've been. Let me do you a quick catch-up. I been grinding like crazy to say the least. A lot of people be posting bout how they always grindin'. I  myself am guilty of using the slogan as brief explanatory summary for work I'm currently engaged in but don't have the luxury of going into any further details about at the time. 

My personal philosophy is that I'm actually too damn busy to spend time "telling" anybody, "Hey, look at me, l'm busy." If you always advertising how busy you are (#Grinding), is it really cause you ain't got nothing better to do than try to convince us? Just asking? Then again, it could just be that I'm not a good multi-tasker.  Lol.

Since we last spoke,  I released the 1st  Official Music Video, for "SugarCoatedShhh", the 1st hot new single following the "7/30 album", on the RizmMusic YouTube channel.
*For this video we had locations varying from the lots of abandoned buildings (We didn't have to "give it" a grimy feel, it was grimy enough all by itself. Lol), to landmarks containing historic memorabilia representing past events, sites that played a part in the history of this country, to a place with graffiti so colorful if you stare at it long enough you can almost forget what you actually standing in the middle of. I said, "Almost". Ya'll know my paranoid ass ain't tryna' get caught slipping! Lol, but For Real for real.

*All of the scene locations chosen, as well as the entire blueprint for making the video was due to the brilliant work of none other than....... Nah, not Rizm, not on this one, but that was a good guess. I like how you think. Lol

*Actually, the credit for plan execution goes to the Award nominated Critically acclaimed Movie Directer/Producer Poetic Lace. Having a more "close-up" veiw of what goes on behind the scenes has given me a totally different perspective, as well as a new found respect for the crazy work ethic this Brother has displayed. It's one thing to have talents, gifts, and a great skill set, but to successfully manage all these things into an efficiently working machine that's effective is another, but that's exactly what he does. It would amaze you to see what all actually goes into producing just 4 or 5 minutes of quality content and that's with everything going according to plan.

*90% of the time, things "do not" go according to plan. This is like one of those law's of nature, similar to gravity. I can't explain it. I don't fully understand it, but if you go into it starting off armed with this pre- knowledge and remember to remain flexible in how you accomplish your goals.....I'm not saying it won't be stressful, but you'll be able to handle it in a way in which the stress doesn't drive you cray cray. Lol, but for real. For example, small stuff like when I saw all the trash scattered about the ground it "looked" great scene wise but when I actually began performing while trying to stay looking in the camera instead of down on the ground where I really wanted to divert my attention because this wasn't just "regular" trash. 

With a quick closer scan of things I had already peeped a couple of used syringes on the ground. The 1st one was one too many for me, so from that point on in my overactive mind you couldn't tell me that there wasn't a syringe everywhere I stepped just waiting to stab me in the foot and give me something worse than a bumbump and I can't let my facial expression on camera reflect all the crazy thoughts going through my head while I'm trying to perform and remain professional. Another thing was the scene on the steps. It looked great, thanks again to the editing genius of Poetic Lace, but anybody who really knows me knows how clumsy and uncoordinated I can be at times. It takes work to make me look cool cause I'm just not that guy. Lol.

I've been know to have trouble walking and chewing gum at the same time so you might be able to imagine how challenging it was for me to go up, down, and all around the steps while trying to perform the song without breaking my ankles or trippin, fallin, and busting my head wide open. So yeah, all the unpretty stuff got cut, of course. Like I said, I now have a new found respect, so shout out to Beyonce (Do people still say, "shout out"?)and all the other greats that have taken a nosedive or 2 throughout their careers. We still love you and I, I mean we understand. To think about it, I had combat boots on for the scene, but Queen Bey does her thang in high heels for the most part. 

That's not a goal I'm trying to reach, but I am impressed with the fact that she can do it. She has a pretty good not falling to falling ratio. Lol. We overcame other obstacles we don't have the time to discuss in just this one blog post, but I will say this one last thing, "Mosquitoes!" I know right now you're probably thinking that complaining about mosquitos doesn't make me look very manly or thugged out. Whatever! Lol. These was like, Ninja Warrior Mosquitoes! I'm for real, they were on a mission, cause it's one thing to land on me and bite me. They had my whole entire body as a landing pad. Pick a spot, bite me and be gone, right? Nooooooo! They wanna go right in my eyeball! They was buzzing all in my ears.(If you've ever had a mosquito buzzing in your ear and you slapped yourself so hard in the face that you cause deffness in that ear cause you were convinced that the mosqito was trying to lay an egg in your brain, then you know what I'm talking about.) All up my nose! 

You try to concentrate on keeping your facial composure and perform while the camera is filming you with this going on. The mosqito click had a kamikaze gnat they sent in as a final attack. When it flew into my mouth and hit the back of my throat all my rapping was gone with the wind and that's when I knew it was time to cut. I couldn't even get the word "cut" out. All that came out was this crazy hiss of death as I tried to cough, clear my throat of the dead gnat body, spit, remember not to swallow and for some reason I was holding my breath all at the same time. 

Like I said, I couldn't actually get the words to cut out but I guess the director knew that part of the performance wasn't in the script. He did a quick check to make sure I wasn't dying for real, then went to packing up equipment with the rest of the production crew. Yeah, we all knew it was a wrap at that point. We all had to get over hurdles both personally and collectively to see the video shoot through to completion, but of course, but I have the same perspective now as I did then, which is that it was more than worth it! #1) Selfishly, yeah, even though it's alot harder to live your dreams in reality than people think, being able to do what I love for a living is nothing short of an absolute blessing. #2) Message. This song had one or two or three. Not all my songs do. I know, shocker right?! My job as an artist is simply to make good music and entertain you for 3:30-5 minutes/duration of the song. So although, oh yeah, I'm making a statement/saying something in every song, thus lyrics, but all statements ain't messages , feel me. 

*In this song, I touched on some really obvious issues from a simpler less complicated veiwpoint like when I rap--"All lives matter, if you're human should be no Distinction"--"But faces that mirror my own are the verge of Extinction"....... It's a national problem but this is how it affects me as an individual. I can't be selfish to the point where I'm only concerned with me cause as I go on to say in the song, I have a son to think about and it would be crazy for me to hope for the world to be a "perfect" place, but when it is time for me to leave this planet I do hope that it's a "better" one, in which my son is blessed with the opportunity to live out his life's journey in peace, love, and happiness. 

I don't think that's asking for too much at all. I hit on some other subjects going on across the globe as well. What I wanted to point out is simply that, as human beings, we can't afford to not care about each other even on a global level. We can't so easily turn a blind eye to atrocities in other parts of the world now that some of those same atrocities are showing up over here, right in our own backyards. We're not as far from being a 3rd world country as you think and again I got kids to raise up in this world, so yeah, I'm concerned, As a Parent, cause before I'm any of this other stuff having to do with business, my number one priority #1 My Son. My #1 job is being his dad. 

Ok. Let me stop right here cause I forgot about the music for a minute and went into Daddy mode thinking bout my son. For a closer look at me in "Daddy mode", check out RaisingRizm blogspot where you can have a more intimate view at my humanness.

*Thank you to all those supporting the RizmMusic YouTube channel. I appreciate you connecting with me on IG/ all social media @OfficialRizm.
*You're gonna wanna stay tuned in to OfficialRizmMusic blogspot for more music, Hot new video premiers, and behind the scenes exclusives you'll only find here.
*Peace and Blessings to the Universe.✌

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

"The Pink Princess" (Part III)

The Pink Princess

Part III

Starting to trip... I can feel the surge of adrenaline go through my body as my heart beats faster and faster in turn pumping even more adrenaline into my system and the cycle continues to repeat it self. Damn, who , besides me is up this time of night , bumping they radio loud enough for me to hear it? I don't recognize the song, but the "beat" sounds familiar? Oh shit! Is that my heart beat? I look down and see my "shirt jumping", like there's a cricket trying to jump off my chest and through the left center part of my shirt in an attempt to escape. It is my heart!

My chest is gonna hurt/be sore in the morning from beating so hard, but as long as it doesn't jump out and hit the floor right now, it won't blow my high. No time for this useless inner self dialog, I need to do something with all this energy I got. I don't know "what" I'm gonna do, but it's gonna be Great, Legendary, Spectacular all that, but it's gonna start with the 1st most important step of any of my ingenious plans... "I need to smoke a cigarette!" "I'm freaking Awesome!", I think to myself on the way to my bunk to get a square. I already know there are no more cigarettes in my left sock where I usually keep 1 or 2, but at the same time I was thinking "how freaking awesome I am", I had lifted my leg, knee to chest like a flamingo, placing my ankle within reach of my hands, and did a quick check.

I imagine if someone had seen me standing there on one leg like a flamingo it would have looked cray cray, but fortunately my imagination was somewhere in oblivion. Off to my bunk to re up on a smoke. I'm moving so fast, I feel like I've only taken one step and I'm already in the dorm area bypassing the normal 10 to 15 steps necessary to travel from the back stall, pass the officer station and water fountain again. "Rizm, slow down! Your'e gonna miss your turn", I hear a little voice in my head say. I don't recognize the voice as friend or foe, it's unidentified, but I listen cause I figured if the voice is in "my head" then it must be one of the "good guys", right? I'm make a quick right turn with my body as if I'm whipping my rydye on the street. Ironically, once again the normal amount of steps it takes to cover the distance to my bunk have been by passed.

I've arrived! Already, I can taste the cigarette in my mouth and feel smoke caressing my lungs, even though I have neither retrieved nor lit my square. Getting anxious....I think to myself, "Dude, you standing up here fantasizing about smoking, when you could actually be puffin on a square in reality, right now time!" "Tighten up going in ya "house", get what you need to light the fireplace and get to smoking like a chimney." I ready my body to do a squat down to where my house/footlocker is located on the floor. [Yeah, a squat. I don't do no "bending straight over like a toe-touch" in prison, feel me. If You've been, then you understand.]

Upon reaching ground level 19.......7.......17.......Nothing?! 19.......7.......17....... Still nothing?! With
my heart beat still racing so fast I can feel it pounding in my chest, I focus in on slowing the pace at which I enter the numbers on my combination lock. This lock been wit me and served me well for the last 7 years and some change. Would've been longer but Lock #1 was compromised in earlier days when I went to the box. It was either give up the digits or the PoPo was gonna cut it off my footlocker, so I gave them the combo, but I can't trust a lock somebody else has combination to. He served his purpose for the time allotted and I learned my lesson. Now I keep 2 locks, one for daytime cause I'm more likely to go to the box/jail over some stupid shit and If I gotta give the number up to PoPo "this" is the one I'm willing to sacrifice for the sake of preserving the integrity of #2, Ole Red. I call him "Ole Red" cause he's been with me the longest, securing and holding it down for me, thus, the first name being "Old", and "Red" cause.......I know the color is metallic and the dial has black paint with white numbers and marks painted overlaying. "Ole Red" has put in some work for me outside of keeping things locked down and secure.

He's been hanging off the end of a belt busting a head to the white meat before [Another reason I don't want him confiscated or compromised by the Police, at the time] and although I've washed him more times than I can count and it's been a minute since I've put him to work, whenever I look at him, I swear he has a "red tint" to it's metallic color. I still don't know if what I see is real or just my mind playing tricks on me. Sometimes I get a lil paranoid and wonder if I'm the only one that sees blood residue or is it apparent to others as well. I've entered these numbers at least a million times over the years so why my trusted lock is identifying the code as foreign and unfamiliar, refusing to grant me access into my own house is simultaneously puzzling and frustrating me. My anxiousness is increasing by the second...19.......7.......17....... Ugh!

Ok, 19.......7.......17.......19.......7.......17.......19.......7.......17...... Ugh! What the f**k! I can't believe this sh**! I grunt scream, not knowing whether or not I just said it to myself or out loud in an audible voice for others to hear, as I give the lock a good hard quick yank as if I have super powers that will enable me to just rip it off with my bare hand. Surprise! Yeah, unexpected to me, it's still locked. Baffled by this, but not having the time to be, due to interruption of Plan B being inserted into my brain. [I keep a "Plan B" in my back pocket, and my backup plan has a backup plan. Surviving in this jungle has taught me among other things to be over rather than under prepared.] I keep a razor broken down to just the blade, under the top corner of my mattress. Over the years, I've learned how to use the small piece of metal as a key of sorts, in an emergency such as this one. I know what you're thinking. You wondering if breaking in lockers is my thing? "Nah, that ain't my MO". Although, I have come out my bag a number of times, only when necessary, [Hunger will make you do some things. My philosophy being, "I may die, but I ain't gone just sit here and starve to death."]

If it comes down to it, I don't steal, I "take" up front in ya face, feel me. So I only use this skill on my own property. Before I can think to spring up, like a Jack in the box, I've done it. Going to reach for my lil home made key.......Skiiiiiiiirt....... I slam on the breaks.......What in the FUCK!........There is a suicidal nigga in my bed! WTF! I say this nigga is suicidal, because he gotta be! That's the only logical reason I can think of why this Fuck Nigga is on my rack. It's obvious to me, dis Fuck nigga wanna die and his pussy ass ain't got the guts to kill himself! Pussy Bitch! I betcha Rizm got the remedy! For the most part I stay wit that "Woo"! I keep a shank on me from Sun up to Sun down and a lil bit after. I normally be Strapped up until bout 10 p.m. when the dorm has settled down for the night. [again, for the most part] I figured between around 11 p. m.- 4:30 a.m. I'm less likely to have to stab a nigga up. Guess I figured wrong tonight.

On the opposite side of my mattress, opposite side where I keep the "key", there's a thread loose where the seams meet and the mattress is sown together. Well, at least it's supposed to be completely sown up, but mine has been altered. It's been purposely altered so that upon pulling on the one loose thread, it opens up a small hole just large enough to slip a finger in, then a second finger, then a 3rd, 4th, until finally my whole hand is in. The mattress continues to swallow my whole arm, going past my elbow and up my bicep before being halted by my shoulder. My exploratory hand would retrieve my knife upon arrival to the marked destination in the stomach of my mattress. Once again, before I can finish "thinking" move to the other side of the bunk, I'm, there, like I'm the Flash or have Teleportation capabilities.

On the other side of my bunk, there's no loose thread. Am I so high I can't find my thread? Hell nah!, but the fact is , There is no thread! With this new info saturating and Boggling my brain, The only scenario that I can logically come up with at this point is that whatever dude that had the nerve to lay down in my rack, not only somehow knew where my secret spot for hiding my shank was, but had the balls to steal my Woo from its spot, as well. If this nigga got my knife in addition to whatever he had before he stole mine, [ I won't even be dumb enough to think or assume he came to the party empty handed.] this could prove to be a serious problem. Ok, "This nigga's waking up!

What's it gone be, Bru?", I question myself. I'm feeling mixed emotions of #1) panic attached to fear due to the knowledge of meeting this potential enemy tryna set me up to be in a knife fight with no knife. [Don't like how these odds are stacking up against me.] and #2) Matched with adrenaline fuel by anger due to this bozo ass nigga tryin me. Never the less, I have a back up plan. [My backup plans have backup plans, remember.] I feel I'll have a better chance to get my point across if I'm armed with the proper tool. Back in the bathroom, up in the ceiling, the last light over the row of sinks, on the inner side panel, if I pop the cover off exposing the bulbs, I gotta shank duck tapped to the inside. About to take off in that direction......I feel a sturdy hand on my shoulder.


Disclaimer: (*Based on a True Story. Names, locations, dates, times, details, etc. have been altered with respect to the sensitivity of the graphic nature of contents.) [*For Entertainment purposes Only.]

Monday, November 7, 2016

The Pink Princess Part 2

The Pink Princess 

Part 2

I take my seated position on the galvanized steal clone, leaving my pants up and in their original position around my waist because the business I'm about to handle doesn't require me to remove my garments. The Pink Princess and I can have intimacy and sex without me ever taking off one article of clothing. I retrieve a bald up piece of toilet paper from my pants pocket and began unwrapping the Pink Princess.  As soon as she catches my gaze, I'm instantly hypnotized.  She loosens the shackles of her trance allowing me just enough of the illusion of freedom to fulfill the given assignment in front of me.  

She's getting lonely there in my system all by herself. When just a short time ago she ran rampant all through my blood stream there are now only traces of where she once was.  She's dying.  Her powers are fading and my high escape plan along with them.  "Can't let her die," I think as I unwrap the present's presents, unraveling the wet toilet paper wrapping paper I began to remove the "Pink Princess."  Just 3 pills... I mean I'm not trying to overdue it, right?

Push it to the limit, of course, overdue it, no thanks.  Plus I ain't trying to get high evidence of my earlier intoxication still lingering.  I realize the pills have slightly melted and have little pieces of toilet paper stuck to them.  "Oh well, a little pieces of toilet paper never hurt or killed nobody?  Down the hatch they go.  I finally swallowed the mouth full of water I was holding along with "Pink Princess."  I decide to sit and wait for her to arrive in the pit of my stomach, multiply in my blood and take control.  

As I sit there like a statue stuck on stupid, minutes turn to hours and hours turn into more hours.  I don't know where I've been, I just know I haven't been "here". A flash-flood of murky memories from a journey I don't remember has led me on travels transcending galaxies, time zones and even the impenetrable shackles of the "modern day mind slavery" that have not only my ankles and wrist bound but with efficient precision have imprisoned my mind(Where the head goes the body follows.). The Pink Princess is dominant in every ring, in any arena she holds the title with a vice grip. Suddenly, like lightening striking, it dawns on me. "I've been sitting here too long." I get up and calmly began to walk out the bathroom and make it half way before I realize that this is not really happening, except in my minds eye and the actual scenario that is transpiring is me in an "attempt" to get up and walk out the bathroom, starting to slide off and down the toilet onto the floor, now observing that I've been sitting here so long the rim of the toilet has cut the circulation of blood flow to my legs.

They have fallen asleep on me. I can't feel them at all below the knees. I can't feel my feet. Are my ankles there? Anybody seen my ankles? I try to grab a hold of the stall wall for support using my left hand, but somehow manage to miss a big ass wall and just end up bumping my head on it. I don't know how hard, cause I only "heard" it, I didn't feel it and have already forgotten it as I prepare to try to brace for the half fall with my right arm. My right hand and the floor connect slowing down the next meeting scheduled to introduce my face to the floor. I quickly bring in "Lefty" that previously made a failed attempt, in to support "Righty". Face to Floor meeting, CANCELED.

In one quick motion I somehow manage to push myself up off the floor and onto the toilet. I have the "bright idea" that if I just continue to sit here doing the exact same thing I did before that will give my sleeping legs time to wake up, problem solved. Brilliant, right? I have patience ... as long as I have the Pink Princess. Then I have my second "bright idea", cigarettes. I need a cigarette. That would feel so good right now, never mind the fact I can't feel my legs. Pink Princess seems to make everything better including cigarettes! My next thought, socks. I keep cigarettes in my socks!

I reach down to get a cigarette from my left sock and almost fall completely off the toilet again. "Hey, why can't I feel anything from the knee down?!" Why can't I feel my legs? [Having already forgotten the experience I had less than 5 minutes ago that ended me up back on the toilet.] Anyway, who has time to spend trying to figure that out, when I'm immersed in recovering my cigarette from my sock, which is near the floor that my 2 feet are touching but I can't feel them and without the support of my legs balancing myself on this toilet seat is proving to be challenging, but I'm up for it. I complete my mission without busting my ass again and retrieve my wet cigarette.

I have a wet piece of pink tissue paper neatly folded into a perfect square about the size of a quarter but thicker. Wait a minute, "why is everything coming out of my sock, wet"?  Oh yeah, Pink Princess makes me sweat a lot and everywhere, apparently even my ankles.  No problem, "Pink Princess" is always there to offer me helpful solutions in situations of crisis like this one.  I pull out my fire or lighter from the right sock where I normally keep it.  I flick it flame on and began to use the heat source to dry my cancer stick being careful to only dry it, not burn it.

Satisfied with my work I use the same flame thrower to light my cigarette.  I take the first of two long drags from my cancer stick, exhale and repeat.  "Pink Princess" does make cigarettes better, I think, as I exhale the 2nd drag.

The wet piece of folded pink toilet paper runs across the screen of my mind, and I simultaneously examine the way my lungs react to the caress of the smoke from drag number three.  I was already blankly staring at the wet pink squares but now I focus in.  Usain Bolt ain't got nothing on my brains train of thought running a mile a minute.  Immediately, I recognize what it is.  The wet tissue is unable to be unfolded.  The thought crosses my mind to try the same trick I used to dry my cigarette.  I let it pass.  I now know what's inside and I can't risk damaging the precious cargo inside.  I gently tear open the sweat soaked tissue paper to discover the melted pink princesses fragile capsule covering fused into the wet toilet paper exposing the white powdery substance inside her.

Having forgotten that I just came back here to "pop-off" I "remember" that I came back here to "pop-off."  There's about 5 or 6 pills here that I had hidden in my sock from earlier and forgot I hid them there.  So of course, I think I just placed it there before coming into the bathroom to "pop-off this first time as I stare at the glob of grayish white melted gel capsules. White powdery substances and wet tissue paper pink from all the bleeding dye no longer on the capsules' coverings.  "Can't let this go to waste."

"Only one choice I see"...before I can finish my thought of figuring out what the "one" choice I see is, I feel myself swallow.  I didn't even realize I'd moved an inch.  I just felt myself swallow, looking at my hand as if I'd never stopped looking at it in the first place, the messy glob is gone, and a quick glance around the floor shows I didn't drop it, only a slight pink stain in my hand where I once held her so I guess my only option was "down the hatch.

Normally, it takes at least a few minutes for her to go to work, having to fight through the capsule's material acting as a barricade to the entrance of her freedom.  With no "barrier", like a line of that good coke straight to the head she is immediately granted her "All Access" backstage pass to the inner workings of my circulatory system.  I simultaneously began to feel her effects.

Wait a minute this is different.  I feel "super crunk" like never before.  I feel awesome!  Even though it has yet to register that the reason I feel so "extra" awesome is cause I took an extra overdose.  My high is high and my "out of control" is "OUT OF CONTROL."

                       *****TO BE CONTINUED****