You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2009.

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It’s a crazy world we’re living in! Like I was just here cooling out listening to Questlove spin all the goodies. Who knew then, that in those apartments over yonder, above the semi-tacky hula hooper (the camera makes it look EXTREME, it wasn’t that dope), that there would be 4 kilos of coke and $100,000. And later, 2 people would end up slain mob style. Read and actually see video of the drop here. Keep your eyes open, kilos only sound cool, and don’t promote ghetto parties(***unlike the one above).

Turned the corner, boom…two fights, two days in a row. Violence on the risethe official mark of summertime in Philly or could it be rolls on Chestnut sliding out cutters with “Pink” on the back? Either way, I saw that shit, and not down with either. Fresh baked cookies and mild sunrays are more my speed:

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Captain coolout all over again:

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Equally engaging: Mike Tyson Punchout Scarf and girls with nice eyes…

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A book. Add in a robe and a pipe, and that would be an all around good look. Perhaps though, that look along with a visage likened to that of Frederick Douglas or just as easy, the chubby one from TOTR, is only how I view being an old head with kids:

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All wise looking and shit. Hmm, but I digress, you should get the old man a book…And may I recommend this one:

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So you’re thinking your sperm donor wouldn’t bother cracking open a book with such a snazzy cover…Like a, “fuck a Hoegaarden, I’ll go with the Miller Light” type scenario. Well that’s plausible, but it’s also likely that he would give you the “thought that matters” bit with the book back. And if you’ve ever slid into the dingy dive in Philly known as McGlinchey’s; you want this book. If you haven’t :

 Sarah Stolfa was a bartender before she became a photographer. “The Regulars” is a book of the photographs she took of her customers at McGlinchey’s, a hole-in-the-wall bar in Center City, Philadelphia, where she worked for ten years (“or maybe it was eleven, I can’t quite remember,” she writes.) Not all of the peopleare as beautiful as Joanna O’Boyle, pictured on the cover, but all of them capture the strange mix of intimacy and distance that can come with serving drinks. Here, Stolfa writes more about the distance bit:

McGlinchey’s is known for its surly bartenders. How could we be anything else after so many nights of customers vomiting, fighting, screaming, swearing, leaving without tipping, snapping their fingers, or just generally being rude? I was probably one of the surliest, or so I have heard over and over. In my mind I wasn’t paid enough to be your friend or make you feel special. If you wanted that, you needed to go to the fine-dining restaurant around the corner where a beer was $7.00, not under $2.00.

Sounds kind of fun, yet a bit depressing, no? Droves of young, cool low-lifes mixed in with some of the most story baring faces to exist outside of ghettos and such:

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Once again…

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So the annual Odunde festival was the other day in Philly. The ensuing emptiness felt from scenester filled spots; culture fraught with stereotypes, supported by advertisers and cattle consumers; and just simply how much the previous attended Odunde festivals were dug, all pushed me to go. Bought some incense for cool out time, vibed in the drum circle, and got lifted above a care in the world :

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btw, her, omg!!!

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she got lifted too:

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And the styles were naturally dope. None of that contrived shit, where you buy a look regularly seen on the scene and rock with no added flavors, obviously:

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