I don’t know about you, but I can’t even look at the COVID tracker without my brain checking out immediately.
Last week was pretty productive. I solved some quirky JavaScript issue in the audio player I’m going to use on my website and that felt really good. It’s going to be nice.
I’m lucky that I can watch The Last Dance on ESPN when it comes on on Sundays. The first two episodes touched nerves, triggered memories. Great documentary.
Hot takes are all over the place. What fascinates me in those 90s Bulls is how fragile the balance was for them to win it all, and that everyone played a role and did better than they thought they would.
The best example of this is Scottie Pippen. MJ is drafted by the Bulls and he demands a better Center. He argues that this is what he needs: a big to protect him and to feed the ball to. It makes sense. The Bulls organization however, thinks differently: they invested in Michael Jordan who is doing all the scoring. They are scared to death to lose him to injuries and whatnot. It’s big money. The Bulls are not the Bulls yet.
Instead of fulfilling MJ’s wish, they find Scottie in the middle of Arkansas. So The Bulls organization didn’t listen to their superstar, went all the way down to nowhere to find a very raw, athletic and promising Forward. Obviously, Michael wasn’t happy but quickly changed his mind thanks to Scottie’s ability to follow and keep up with #23.
That’s amazing to me. This all thing could have gone wrong in a million ways! No Scottie, no six titles. No Steve Kerr’s suffocating defense, no six titles. No Horace Grant in the paint, no six titles. No Rodman with his 15mn, 15 rebounds stats, no six titles. Not a single team wanted Phil Jackson –deemed too weird- in the NBA, The Bulls organization gave him his job and the rest is History. It could have gone wrong in a million ways.
Despite the drama, they all together hold up to get those championships. When the Bulls got Rodman, I thought the team’s chemistry would just explode and that they would not even make the playoffs. Was I wrong. Look at Toni Kukoc going 2/30 from three in the 1996 playoffs, and imagine how MJ felt about the Bulls drafting that dude. He stayed on the team, hit some big shots later on and they won three titles in a row. Trust is crucial.
That’s the legacy that I wanted to see being broken with the Warriors. I wanted them to go for 4 titles in a row, not to celebrate basketball hegemony, but because it would really have proved that they’re a complete, strong ass team. Despite an absurdly great roster, they couldn’t do it. Trust was an issue.
It makes the two Bulls 3-peat even more unreal. And the perfect score –6 finals, 6 rings– absolutely nuts.
Thanks to a lot of talent, a lot of comprehension, and a whole lot of luck. It is inspiring.
I remember this lady, she was always sitting down on a computer facing me and would often blush when I would say hi. A lefty, something I couldn’t miss.
She would always look very focused on what looked like job searches, taking notes etc.
She also had something going: she was mixed race, Black and Latina, very light skinned, very thick. But her son was this little black toddler and her dude was this skinny white people Jesus looking man. As rare as it was to see them all together, seeing them gave you that “uh, what’s going on here? Who’s kidnapping who?” vibe. Just funny and cute.
One day, I saw her in the street walking toward a brand new silver Mercedes. Doing the “t-you t-you” with her key fob, opening the driver’s door. She saw me passing on my bike, we smiled at each other. She seemed at peace.
I never saw her ever again.
Sometimes when I’m nearby the same block I think “you go, girl”.
It was right at the start of this pandemic. For some reason, I felt like I should give him and his boo some good food. Not a dollar. Not fruit, cereal bar, candy. Not even Popeye’s. A full, healthy meal.
As it was raining a lot these days, I knew they needed warm food. So I went to that local joint and bought some soul food for them. Four wings, beans rice and greens. Two fat plates. It wasn’t cheap but it was worth it.
I swing by their spot in the middle of the afternoon. I put the container down at her feet. She’s almost in denial about the smell. He’s gone doing whatever he does but comes back as I’m leaving.
He starts smiling when he opens up his container. They thank me with this little shame on their faces that I don’t pay no mind to. I smile back and nod.
The next day, it’s pouring pouring. I’m a bit nuts to go shoot my basketball but it’s just like brushing my teeth at this point. They’re dead asleep on the concrete, sheltered by a small cantilevered roof. He knows I’ll be there like I always am or he hears my keys. Either way, he manages to rise out of his pile of blankets to wave at me and give me that look that says “son you don’t even know right now how much we needed this shit”. I’ll never forget those thankful, grateful, teary eyes. They were loud.
The third day, it’s sunny again. As I walk through the park, I see them sitting in their little camp, conversation is flowing, they’re smiling and laughing. This is where It hit me.
The first day, they were surviving. Mad, uncomfortable, busy.
The second day, they were digesting. Big amount of food to process, rain, rest.
The third day, they’re living. They feel alright, they can now sit, talk and even joke.
And now it hits me again: as a metaphor for Life, I think I’m finishing that second day.
I keep thinking of how incredible the internet would be right now if we were doing what we’re doing, but semi-privately on personal servers. 100% personally owned content. Forever.
Imagine DJ D-NICE streaming from his own live thingy, easily promoting his sets and shows on his website (for the past 20 years) where you could buy his stuff easily while he would not be giving a 30% cut to anyone but himself.
Imagine all the journalists and sources of real life events, on some WordPress-like stuff, using their own photo galleries, widely available and shareable in a click regardless of where you are, what OS you’re running or how old your computer is.
Imagine that using the internet this way is so useful and spread out, that anyone trying to do something wrong/unethical would immediately be found out and chastised. Ethical hackers taking care of our systems. Original Posters would be respected across the world.
Imagine a single group chat or video chat protocol. And everyone can join from 2005 desktop to 2020 fridge.
Imagine how interesting things would be in our crazy, current times. How easy it would be to show up for each other, buy and sell stuff (every single irl store would have an online store). Share things a lot more freely (which means there would be more meaning in sharing those things) than under the scrutiny and stress of giant companies and dozens of technical/branded “solutions”. Communicating instead of performing.
Maybe there would be a whole lot less noise online, and a lot more folks doing the right thing offline. Maybe that would be good.
I like to dream. I love to visualize.
This is:
1. The Black Men Network Protocol (BMNP) handshake.
2. A social commentary on the current and past 2020 events.
3. BoFem
People the age of Bernie voted against him, en masse.
That’s what really gets me.
People who mostly have had a good –or simpler time on earth, are hoarding the shit out of resources, power, wealth, even though they know how much we’re dealing with. Despite knowing how much it destroys our agency. It’s really sad.
They do not give a fuck. If they did, Bernie’s policies would have been integrated into the DNC’s plan a while ago.
That’s a huge flaw in our hope for a better world because those older people are going to live for a long time. I did the math once, that’s the next eleven presidential elections where boomers will vote AND out-vote everyone. The next forty years or so. Yeah. Because those old people will become more soulless with time (Palpatine Syndrom), we’re not in the best position to change things through politics.
We’ll have to do better. Keep talking to those local, older people. The ones we know. The ones we can convince if we try a bit more. We need them to change, for them to change their peers and on. It’s not too late, I believe.
The entire world can switch in a few weeks. We know that now, don’t we.
Keep the fire.
Inglewood, March 2020. I keep playing. If everything goes right, and it will, new album in 2021.
Yes, I see it all. French doctors. Africa. French Africa. Black diaspora. The French government spokeswoman. Black America. The not-so-inclusive tech world. Black American culture being so pervasive. Alternative black milky way. My ultra white French family who doesn’t ask anything but really wants to.
I am in the middle of the intersection, trust me.
Citizenship becomes such a weird concept once you lived on different continents, through different cultures. All I know and keep witnessing is that y’all think you are “more right” than the others, which bores me to oblivion. It’s the French friend on FB telling me how Americans are selfish while I read about the most selfish shit I’ve ever read about how people behave in the country I was born in. Smart and stupid are everywhere but you have to live an international life for a little bit to understand how true that is. Meanwhile, nationals and locals think they’re “normal”. It’s interesting.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite right in France. Starting with my first name. English name, abandoned at birth. That allowed me to see myself anywhere I wanted, mostly where my name, my skills and my skin made sense. The draw to go see something else was always in me. Even though New is Scary and Scary is annoying.
All I feel about France is being profoundly grateful I grew up there in the ways it happened. I didn’t really get love, but I received care. I knew that was something precious. I longed for more, for what my white friends were getting. A sense of belonging so deep that you never venture into hyper vigilance like I continuously did and keep doing. But I was ok with learning and learning. Doing better. Not giving a fuck about what people did if it didn’t make sense to me. I had access to an infinite, unrestricted source of knowledge (plush home libraries, computers and internet) that helped me define the world as I see it. I valued that and was thankful for it.
I haven’t been back in six years. It’s post-terrorism, middle-of-coronavirus pandemic France. It’s translate-American-jokes-on-Facebook, Starbucks and Postmates-having, global France. It’s different. It’s going to be wild when I cross my parents’ house gate. The country changed and I did too.
I know I wouldn’t have been happy staying in my apartment in Vincennes. I’d have become an alcoholic very quickly, comfortably talking shit and destroying mofos in arguments at the apéro or online. Obnoxious and intelligent, a sizzling combo. I’d probably have had a giant fight with my family, throwing at them all kinds of relationship-ending verbal daggers. Or maybe I would have had taken over my dad’s business, have a wife and kids and right now, I would be like “nah mane” and would sabotage everything, move out of France or not and hurt many, many people. Including myself.
I’m feeling good on my current path, building. I could say that I was French once. And then I can tell a whole bunch of stories while cooking French food. That, probably will never leave me.
I’m in love with those, man.
There’s just a quality to them that I don’t feel with other architecture. They make me want to do better, I don’t know.
Those buildings –and that era– were focused on giving people a nice environment. There is some ornament but it’s usually built-in and kind of hiding. You need to use the building for a little bit to notice a few things here and there that are here to embellish the space.
Forms are usually simple, as the result of cost calculations and minimal aesthetic. Plant some trees and nice bushes around and those buildings and apartment buildings look vibrant and classy.
Let’s just say that I visited and stayed at quite a few of them in the past years and I usually love the layouts. Yes, those are usually small and you wonder how people were supposed to raise a family of four in a small 2 bedroom apartment. But I keep thinking that for the lifestyles we have today in 2020, those volumes are perfect for couples or singles. Like, super awesomely perfect. Small-ish is just fine, the future isn’t about giant rooms nor giant complexes with 100+ apartments with people who don’t even look at each others.
Sometimes those buildings need renovation and improvements on the insulation side. Other than that, they’re fine like the air quality right now.