Here's my horoscope for today:

During this time, you will have many group discussions and conversations with others; you will meet new people, possibly travel quite a bit and certainly have more contact with relatives and immediate neighbors.You feel that you have to communicate with as many people as possible. This is a very good time for all kinds of intellectual activities. It is not a good time to try to settle down and relax. The tempo of events in your environment is likely to be too fast, and it will be difficult to avoid getting caught up in it. Nevertheless you should try sometimes to disconnect yourself from this frantic pace, because it may get to the point that you are continually distracted and unable to think properly. For this reason it is not the best time to try to reach a conclusion on some matter.

And on that note...

I have something special for the potheads out there. Do not watch this video if you are sober and thinking of how much it sucks to be at work right now. You have to half-baked to enjoy the goodness of this following video.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Charlie the Unicorn

What What?




No particular reason for putting this up. I just thought it was hilarious. And since I'm a straight female in a committed relationship, I can thoroughly enjoy it. The rest of the world, however, feel free to NO HOMO to your heart's content!

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend




Say hello to my boy, Nick Diamond. He's pretty cool. He's from Frisco. Coincidence? I think not! A lot of people have been seeing me on MTV rocking his shirts from Diamond Supply Co. That is not a coincidence as well. See, the "urban wear" world is something that I am still happy to observe from afar.

It all started when I would visit TRUE on Haight Street way back in the day, when I was still in my first couple years of undergrad. I would walk in, and those uppity bitches would look at me up and down not saying shit. Now see, I'm from the fuckin' hood. Anybody that does that to me on the street would get checked. "Boo Bitch! The fuck you lookin' at?!"

But the folks that were employed there were from the 'Burbs! Like ya boy John Brown. They were Kings and Queens of the 'Burbs! Santa Clara! Union City! Daly City! So not only was I salty about them coming in MY CITY actin' like they owned the place, but damnit, I've worked retail before. I know what the fuck it means to have customer service! Anyway, that's just Haight Street in general.

While there are VERY cool people on Haight Street doing their thug thizzle (My girl Tash at Villains, Julio when he was at Amoeba, Josh from TRUE, Rita, Monique and Utay from TRUE women) that actually said HI to a bitch and didn't save their nasty comments for my exit, urban wear folks in general can be very pretentious. The only ones I really get down with are from the 'hood! Monique is from the Fillmoe. My boys at HUF, Bong and J-Billion, graduated from Balboa, like me. So I know their history. But getting back to my boy, Nick...



When I was in NY, I added him on Myspace because he was one of the only brands (besides Huf, Mama, Cerbae and Nicacelly ) that was really supporting the Bay Movement. He messaged me with "You are Pinay, love hip hop, and write for Rolling Stone. I want to know more." From then on, I told him what I was doing in NY, and that if he wanted to send some merch, I would gladly wear it. This hustler overnighted a package to me and the rest is history. But he also read my early writings, which I greatly appreciated back in the time when Krish was NOT on MTV...yet.




Now this is what I call BAY LOVE. Nick didn't even know me that well, but he had my back. So I wore his shirt to my DMX interview. And I wore his shirt during my Snoop Dogg interview. Just like I rocked MAMA and NICACELLY. Not only because I support local brands and grassroots hustlers, but because they were willing to connect with me on that REAL tip. And they are talented and hardworking individuals that are really making moves right now.

So Nick, Nate, Gabriella, and Nicole....thank you for your hard work, talent, and support. I got your back for life, and would wear your clothes even if you didn't sponsor me. Nathaniel, thanks for those ill ass hand-painted joints! Mama, you are a trendsetter who understands what it means to be a GIRL who is smart, funny, and sexy. Nicole and the BOO CREW...I had a blast kickin' it with y'all when Project was in New York. We had so much fun and the NY boys were NOT READY. And to my friend Nick, who raids all of his Mens Smalls to give to me: thank you again for not being one of THOSE dudes. You are so Frisco, and that is a great thing.













(A VERY SPECIAL SHOUT OUT GOES TO PROSPECT OF 510 AIRBRUSH! HE DID THESE JOINTS FOR ME!)

From the Land of the Stunnas to the land of the Uggers....



(Watching Traxamillion and the fellas ham it up on set of his video "I'm from the Hood")


I'm back home. In...L.A.? Weird. After couch-surfing in San Fran for the past week at the cousins' spot, I took my princess ass back on the 5 to the City of Angels. It was my first dolo road trip. "Just me, my trainwreck, and my Gold Ac....rooollling."

Here's a fact about true Frisco girls such as myself. We do not do marathon road trips, like East Bay heads do. We barely even leave the city. We do something called MOB. Which means, we gas-break-dip through the 'hood, making a million little stops, and only going on the freeway to go downtown, or to the Peninsula. But if we could, and we usually do, we take the scenic route through the streets. To smoke some weed, usually.

Which means: cruise control is a foreign concept to me. It's hard enough driving on the freeway blazed out of your mind, and feeling like the hypnotizing white dotted lines are either going to careen you off a cliff or straight into a brick wall. Paranoia is a mothafucka. But I thoroughly enjoyed my excursion back down south. It gave me some time to think. About my mixtape. About my boyfriend, who was coming back home from a show in Boston. And about my weekend in the Bay, which was beautiful and productive.



Smoke break! (Jacka lft, Quinn bkground, Rydah J. Klyde rt.)




Me and bruh bruh The Mighty Quinn back from smoke break...haha...cool man.




FREE HUSALAH! (Jacka, J. Stalin, DJ Quest)



Anyone wanna play a game of basketball? Shirts vs BLOUSES!





This was my first time meeting MAC MALL. I used to have a huge crush on him when Absolute Power came out in my 8th grade year at Potrero Hill Middle School. His street team had an assembly and he was supposed to show up. He never did. I vowed that someday I would meet him and tell him how disappointed I was that he didn't show face. 11 years later, over cajun shrimp and a pitcher of Sangria at Cha Cha Cha's, I finally gave him a piece of my mind!



We had a great interview for illerclip.com. I finally got to ask him some burning questions about his relationship with Mac Dre, where he was when he found out his cutty was killed, and how the Thizz Nation is mobilizing new artists in Furl's memory all across the Bay Area.

He also gave me a copy of "Thizziana Stoned", his new LP. Can I just tell you, that this is the BEST Mac Mall I've heard in one album? It's HELLA KNOCKIN. I ain't fucking playing. Stand out tracks include "Girls Jus Wanna" and "I'd Ratha". Those are my two favorite so far, but yo boy MALL really done stepped his game up TO THE MAX and rode for the cutty Furl. Go out and grab it! Best Bay album of 2007 so far...



THIZZZZ!!!!!!! (We miss you Dre)



(find out the rest of Mac Mall's interview when illerclip.com launches in the next couple weeks. I will definitely keep you posted.)


**All photography by NINA PARKS

"Speak Out" Operatic Interpretation

Players: Da Truf, Nump Trump, and Red Oyster from "Flava of Love"




"Today's topic is GOING DUMB or JUST PLAIN DUMB? Let's explain to all the mamas and papas back home!"




(Shit, I know where this is going...)



(Anti-Hyphy: Those poor souls)





Nump: HAHA! Piece of cake!



Cuzin Pep: "So what's the difference between Stupid-Doo-Doo-Dumb and Rock-out-with-your-cock-out Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll?" (Good question! The crowd goes wild!)



Nump: I don't know about y'all, but I GOT GRAPES




(Pililipino Accent) Hosts: "So por da pamilies back home, what EXACTLY are grapes, naman?"




(Shiet.....)





Now time for a HYPHY commercial break!





(Back from commercial!)

"Don't hate on the hyphy! Why can't we just co-exist?"




Nump: ZZZzzzzzzz



"You know what? Why don't we just show instead of tell?" (Da Truf takes her mic off with the quickness to demonstrate...)



"Red Oyster, get ya stankin' ass up!"



"Oh, how the world would be a better place....THIZZ!!!!"

(Scene Close)





(Next post: Traxamillion video shoot featuring The Jacka, San Quinn, my interview of MAC MALL, and a sneak peak of the EyeASage Muzik Page photoshoot.)

**photography by Nina Parks

Take That!



Pedagogy of the Oppressed is a book that I consider to be one of the founding cornerstones of my consciousness. First introduced to me in Dr. Allyson Tintiangco-Cubales classes at San Francisco State, it criticizes contemporary methods of educational teaching, the "banking method", as a way to keep the colonized from pursuing their freedom intellectually. This was a prerequisite book I had to study and discuss at length before coming back to my alma mater, Balboa High School, to teach ethnic studies to "underprivileged" Filipino youth.
A dense and revolutionary piece of literature, the book was once again brought to me when I won a fellowship from Robert F. Kennedy Memorial in Washington D.C., and began to tutor Black Muslim youth in Hunters Point. Michael James, my senior fellow, had the other fellows and I discuss the implications of this literature at great length in order to understand how we can be more effective teachers to students of color that were historically disenfranchised. An educator within the community that was also a graduate of SF public schools (Galileo High School) in the 70s, and a longtime resident in the Fillmore District, Michael James was one of the only leaders I identified with that didn't just earn his Masters to "uplift" a community he was never a part of.
On my Rolling Stone profile, I cite this book as one of my favorites. It became essential to my survival, and a very integral part of my success.

A reader commented on the profile "Anyone who says Pedagy of the Oppressed is a pompous ass."

I haven't spoken to Michael James in almost three years, and because of the show, he contacted me. This comment is one of the first things I brought up to him, in jest of course.

Today, he emailed me this response:

"Pomposity is a disorder of the privileged- it comes from equating capability with class status. The hater is projecting his own arrogance. I know you're not tripping."

*sigh of contentment*

The moral of the story is: Do your research! It's so easy for us to judge. Don't be THAT guy.


(Speak Out posting will be up later today!)

Episode Six: Krish's RUNDOWN


This is the Rolling Stone rundown.

Here's mine.


This episode is a long time coming. I was getting tired of watching the the story editors try to play us for some fools. Granted, it DID take a while for most of us to "feel out" our place at Rolling Stone, but a lot of the editing leads to false conclusions.

( For example: In Episode 4: There's Something Rotten in Denmark, they claim that I came home with no story and didn't get to go backstage. That is FALSE. RonKat, San Francisco native and member of Funkadelic graciously gave me his only Kanye backstage sticker. Thanks again, Ron!)

This was the first episode that I felt portrayed me in the most accurate light. YES, I was tired of hearing myself whine also, people. So when the Snoop album listening came around, your girl knocked the ball out of the park. Actually, Ted Chung and I stayed in touch and I was able to eventually meet Snoop and check off my lifelong goal of smoking the peace pipe with him. Oh boy! And, apparently, Ted is managing MURS now, so I smell an interview coming next week.

Four more episodes to go! Woohoo! And the ratings are still low as ever! Truthfully, it doesn't bug me that the ratings are so low. In fact, I'm happy that this show didn't go straight to DVD. I always knew that it would be too intelligent for MTV's usual audience - that is, if the story editors decided to keep the numerous politically-and-racially charged dialogue between the cast OFF the cutting room floor. It's kinda hard to compete with rich, white kids in L.A. and, well, rich white kids in Maui. Oh yeah, and rich ass spoiled kids getting Jaguars on their 16th birthday.

When did VH1 become the most poppin' channel in terms of hip hop (Hip Hop Honors, White Rapper Show, Flavor of Love)?
I remember when they didn't touch that genre with a ten-foot pole. I am in the freakin' twilight zone.

So, anyway, me and my girl Krys want a spin-off show: "Krys and Krish: Checkin' bitches from Cali to Copenhagen." Didn't you love how we went back and checked that fool who called us "rich girls"? Haha. "These sunglasses are $5 from H&M, bitch!" Yes, I do get offended when people call me something I am definitely NOT. But, Krys is my girl and we certainly make an interesting pair. MTV, holla! Or maybe, VH1 would be a better home...


Tommorrow: The pics from my trip back home and "Speak Out". You'll trip when you see who was on the opposing panel. Hint: she was a "reality show vixen" from VH1. How convenient.

Bay-Bound this weekend!

I'm so excited to be coming home! I miss my family. I miss the cold weather. I miss my roomates. I miss my MAMA.

And most of all, I miss the BOMB. How the hell did I ration out an eighth for 3 weeks? That shit woulda been gone in two days had I stayed in the Yay.

Most of the homies are in Sin City right now for Magic and All-Star Weekend. I'm soooo jealous. The first and only time I went to Magic was with the Ruckus Crew during our happier times, and it was off the hook. Debauchery galore.



Man, I'm fucking everywhere right now. It's weird. 1pg Ford Ads. Ford Commercials. MTV. The school paper, for goddsakes. A lot of the time, Magic is for people that "parking lot pimp" and shamelessly self-promote. Despite the faulty story-editing of the show, that really ain't my style ( I fucking erase people off my Myspace that put more than 3 bulletins out a day) But people are really telling me to strike while the iron is hot.


On that note, Rhapsodistas had a show at The Airliner last night. It was off the hook! I think people are really starving for dope female emcees. They were looking at us like we had bones in our noses and plates in our bottom lips. Fascinated. Amazed. They wanted more. Female MCs are not extinct. We're just hibernating! The reaction was amazing. People were going fucking bananas when it was time to drop Married to the Hustle. Mind you, our set was at 12:30am and the audience was nice and drunk, but the place went wild. I loved it. Loved loved loved it. And it was the first time I gave daps to the audience while simultaneously doing my verse. Hahaha....oh, the simple pleasures of being an up-and-coming MC.

Nina Parks and I are doing a photoshoot this week for my EyeASage Muzik Page. The theme: film noir. I can't wait! Black and white exposure, thick winged eyeliner, coffee, cigarettes and red lipstick. Maybe a well-placed Optimo for the hell of it.

So far, I got two new songs circulating on the web: "The Question" with Wrong Hands and "Think About It" with Roscoe Umali, Sevenes, and Loud. They're features for now, and I'm working on my solo mixtape. But I'm not a mic hog. I like working with folks. It just sucks when you want to perform and all you got is you.


Agenda for this weekend:

To help spread the word, visit the Stop the Killings Benefit Show website to put this message in your MySpace comments and bulletins




STOP THE KILLINGS Benefit Show
Saturday, February 17, 2007
7:30pm @ SOMArts (934 Brannan St., SF, CA 94103)
All Ages - $10 (Proceeds go to KARAPATAN)

Performances by:

Blue Scholars
Kiwi (of Native Guns)
Rhapsodistas
Echo of Bullets
Golda Supernova
Power Struggle
Praxis Rocks
The Movement Show
Kapatid X

Art by:

Speaker Fruits
CELL68

ACT NOW!!! Sign the online petition.

Did you know that 825+ people have been killed in the Philippines since 2001? Regular people...students, teachers, lawyers, workers, journalists, clergy, human rights workers, etc. Witnesses have pointed to elements of the Armed Forces of the Philippines in carrying out these killings. Yet not one person has been tried or convicted for any of these deaths. President Arroyo's government has done nothing to stop to these atrocities.

For us living in the U.S.A. it's a little sticky. The U.S. government has been providing excessive amounts of military assistance to the Philippine government. Reports from the Library of US Congress state that the total U.S. military assistance to the Philippines rose from $38 million in 2001 to $114 million in 2003 and a projected $164 million in 2005. That's our tax dollars potentially subsidizing death squads of the Philippine military at the cost of the Filipino people.

Come out to the show to learn a bit more about the issue and find out how you can get involved.






I'm also going to be part of a Panel on a Filipino show called "Speak Out" that's taping on Sunday.

The topic? "Going Dumb or just plain dumb?" Ha.

You know who's gonna be on the panel with me? NUMP! This should be entertaining!

10 Cupcake Commandments by Notorious I-S-H

*song*


I been in this game for years
It made me an animal
There's rules to this shit
I wrote me a manual
a step-by-step booklet for you to get
Yo game on track, not yo ass in check

Numero uno, neva let ya cupcake know
How much doe you hold, cuz you know
The money make a digga brag to her friends
Have you keep chargin' that same card again and again

Number two, never let him know your next move
Don't you know, bad girls move in flyness and slyness
Take it from your highness...
I done played mad jerks for their high-class perks and networks

Number three, never trust NO-BO-DY
Yo own bitch'll set you up, if yo ass mess up
Keep her ass sexed up, and her whip Lex'd up
Otherwise she leavin u for the next best up

Number four, I know you heard this before:
Keep the puss tight, if his game ain't right

Number five, never leave a dude where u rest at
I don't care if he clean da house, tell him bounce

Number six, that goddamn credit, forget it
You think he buyin flowers when he late, shit, forget it

Number seven, this rule is so underrated
Keep ya biz and babymakin' completely separated
Hustle and love don't mix like crackheads with no fix
Den ya smokin' on some serious shit.

Number eight, never say "I love you, too"
If you plannin' on fuckin' him and his best friend too

Number nine, shoulda been number one to me
If you ain't on yo hustle, stay the fuck off a beez
You're doing ya self a favor when you tell her
"See ya later"
Or the judge'll give her half yo studio AND ya scraper

Number ten, a strong word called DISCIPLINE
Strictly for grown men, not for freshmen
And dem women, that never settle for less
Than a couple a million dollars and some stress-free sex

Follow these rules and you'll have mad sex to make up
If not, diapers and prenup will take all ya cake up
Boys grow to real men, but it all takes time
And don't be fuckin' with these nickels if you want you a dime
The Gangster of Love got it down to a science if you listen
Stupid niggas front the dinner, Boss niggas pay attention
Step ya game up, the lesson is over, EYE gotta go
I'll leave the cupcakin to ya suckas cause my hustle is the dough


(Original POST: Friday, March 17, 2006)


(Happy Venereal Disease Day!)

Week 2 Close: HollyHOOD Living





One of Estevan Oriol's old-schools....(gangsta whitewall!)


I must admit, L.A. has been good to me. As stubborn as I am about this North/South (imagined) rivalry, there are so many things that appeal to me about Los Angeles. Besides the fact that I rarely have to tote a heavy jacket everywhere I go – a luxury I cannot afford in the unpredictable Bay weather – this California livin’ is something I can get used to, especially after living in New York for the summer.


Most days, the weather is a balmy 75 degrees, and I can wear clothes that rarely see the light of day back home. No mosquitos. ( L.A. doesn’t have reserves of stagnant water nearby). Something is ALWAYS poppin’ out here, whether it’s a J Dilla Anniversary Tribute at the Knitting Factory DJed by the Beat Junkies, or a “rock-out-with-your-c*ck-out” Tech N9ne show at the Key Club, it sure beats the hell out of the predictable nightlife in SF. And the best thing about L.A. to me, so far? People dance! People know how to be around each other! The hyphy-ness is lightweight contagious!

I remember going to the AllHipHop.com concert last summer in New York and observing the sea of people below me . With the exception of a few nodding heads, nobody was dancing. It broke my heart. Dance floors in New York come far and few between, and even if they do exist, they are clogged by pretty bastards uncomfortable with touching another human body – even if in transit.




At the Tech N9ne concert on Sunset, there were cholos, slutty white chicks, and sequin-adorned black rock niggas all giggin’ to the same Kansas City slap. Mothafuckas were losing their mind. At the J Dilla tribute in Hollywood, those same pretty bastards with all-over print garb were waving their hands in unison for the producer that “changed their life.” Mrs. Yancy was there, and I couldn’t help but feel the inspiration her son evoked in the giddy expressions on the faces of these hip hop aficionados. It was truly a celebration. Hip hop, I feared, was losing that frenzied and unequivocal passion to move. Here, it existed. I became reassured.



Photographers can't shoot themselves! Amanda working her magic.



And then, there was Estevan. Estevan Oriol embodies L.A. to me. Not the kind I see when homies are in town, in the corny ass shops of Melrose. But the L.A. that I see every day; the vatos, the senoras, the migrant population that keeps the bustling economy afloat. Mister Cartoon happened to be there, curious about my presence at the shop. The first thing the both of them noticed was my tattooed neck, which to my delight, they praised in design. Estevan also asked me to shoot me, in a gallery he’s sharing with Japanese photographer, Yune.?. If that’s not a warm welcome in the City of Angels, I don’t
know what is.



Clockwise: O.G. from the 'hood, Estevan, Da Truf, and Mister Cartoon

I’ve also met a new friend, and partner-in-crime Amanda Lopez. She is an awesome photographer who is apprenticing for Estevan, and a ride-or-die chick who spent the first half of my second week chasing Clyde Carson down the 101 to the studio and snapping pics onstage during the choreographed antics of the homies from K.C. (Krizz Kalico, and Cut Calhoun). Amanda, we are going to blow the top off of this place.

(BTW, Carson let me hear 6 tracks off of his upcoming album, and that shit is fucking bananas. Although I’m sworn to secrecy, all I can say is that he’s upped the ante. Not only did I hear some shit that will rival the Hyphy Juice remix, but a collabo with one of my favorite rappers that’ll is guaranteed to give these other so-called MCs a run for their money. Also, watching The (White) Rapper Show with his crew, including Mayne Mannish, was pretty fucking entertaining. Thanks for the hospitality, gentlemen. We got some great material.)


This is only the beginning. Now I can see why Tupac enjoyed himself so thoroughly. Just don’t expect me to be rocking that Dodger Blue anytime soon. It ain’t. Gonna. Happen.

FROM THE BAY TO LA...


Tony Toni Tone lied to me. They told a young girl that “It Never Rains in Southern California.” Liars. It rained when I arrived. It was the first time I’d ever seen it rain in Los Angeles, but then again, I’ve never spent more than a weekend here. By the time I was making my way north towards the 5 at the tail of my trip, I’d had my fill of slithering, traffic-clogged freeways, and sepia skies. Well, that better be my new favorite shit. I’mma be here. For now. But not forever.

Usually when I take the 80 towards Oakland, I’d know that the return trip would be my favorite part – driving through the Yerba Buena tunnel and having the skyline materialize through the slit cable view. I’d roll my passenger side window down, breathe in the salty Bay breeze, turn my radio up, and mash the fuck home. This time, as I drove in the middle of the night across the Bay Bridge, I knew that it would be a while before I made that return trip. Packed to the brim with everything that mattered in my life, Demitri (my car) groaned in protest as well, swaying heavily like a fat linebacker towards the end zone. Frisco, don’t make me cry. This Bud’s for you.

Your hometown is like your family: just because you love it to death, doesn’t mean you gotta be around it all the time. San Francisco was good to me before I departed. On my lone drives with Demitri I’d hit these corners and BAM! An ochre sun setting into purplish haze over the 280. Coit Tower at dusk, elephant seals guffawing in cacophony. Accidentally making a right on 23rd and Church and finding myself at the top of a hill that overlooks the jewel-toned horizon. Damn you, Frisco. Why the fuck you gotta look so good, before I leave you?

It ain’t where you from, it’s where you at. As much rivalry as NorCal has against the South, I got a special place in my non-augmented bosom for L.A. So far, I’ve eaten some bomb ass barbeque flank steak with special sauce in Koreatown with the homies. I’ve seen my new friend, Ise Lyfe , rip it at The Savoy in Inglewood at a poetry event, and thoroughly hold it down for East O. Bout to get in Roscoe Umali’s studio tonight to throw down on his mixtape.

And next week? You mothafuckas don’t even know. So far, Clyde Carson invited me to peep him at the House of Blues while he opens up for Game. That’s story 1, and story 2. Then on Tuesday, I’m interviewing the one and only Estevan Oriol, LA Cholo photographer-extraordinaire. That’s 3. Then Tech N9ne told me he’d be at the Key Club the night after. That’s story 4. Pretty good for my second official week in town.

Don’t worry Frisco. I’m good for know. I’m finna bring home the bacon. Turkey bacon, of course. I don’t fuck wit that pork.