Peace & blessings family,
I know it’s a tad bit late but … Happy Father's Day!
Can you think of another awesomely under appreciated and hot button topic of a "holiday"? I think no other compares. On Father’s Day most Dads are sent to the background in place of angry and bruised memories of men who abandoned their post. Single Mother’s who carried the load are ushered to the front for a shared bill on the marquee. As a Dad I work hard to protect my son’s against swindlers and imposters that filter in front of their eyes. I know first hand how much time is stolen when it’s wasted in the procession of the unproductive.
My father ran a rehab center. 35 Chestnut Street was his first one. That was the house I came home to as a newborn. As I grew up I was convinced my life was void of adventures and empty of characters. I felt it wasn't as vivid as tales spun by the addicts who fought their way to recovery in my father's program. Back then I didn't see life’s contradictions and complications as a process towards my humanity. Time taught me that life is tragic, hope filled, explicit, and blessed. The Divine Sinner Chronicles is my Illmatic, Reasonable Doubt, Ready to Die, and 36 Chambers. It is the reflection from a sketch of my past and insight into my future. Some stories have been shifted to protect the guilty but it’s reality as I knew it and lived it.
So now more than ever the word of the day over my life from me for me for my life is ... Consistency. Consistency is the route from writer to author, tenacity will get DSC off of my laptop and on to bookshelves world wide.
Today as we delve back into the Golden Era I leave you with my main man Mic Geronimo. When this joint came out back in ’94 we still made gritty walk-a-bout videos with blunt guts and assault rifles for all to see without self-edited blur outs. Much has changed in Hip Hop but we must leave more for another time.
I roll up & park it like everyday is a 420 holiday …
Blessings,
M
My parents ran a residential rehabilitation center. The basement of the first house on Thirty-five Chestnut Street was home for me as a newborn. When I was a kid my life seemed to have no adventure and felt completely void of characters. It wasn't as vivid as tales spun by addicts in search of recovery and a personal Jesus. Back then I didn't see contradictions and complications as a process of human maturity. Time taught me that Life is tragic, hope filled, explicit, and blessed ...
Jun 24, 2010
S*** is real ...
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blessings,
M