Tag: tupac

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Stuff I Like: Ode to the Cassette Tape

This week in Showing My Age, I want to pay homage to a lost treasure of my youth: the cassette tape. In the modern world of MP3s and streaming, there are paradoxically both more and fewer ways to interact with music, especially as professionally (and probably simultaneously commercially) curated playlists and the ubiquitous “Shuffle” function come to dominate music consumption. But in my day – cue wagging wrinkled finger and old lady sneer – you had to really want to have that music on demand. And the cassette tape was really the only way to go about it.

For those who are unaware (dear god I am feeling older by the second), cassette tapes were seemingly insubstantial rectangles of plastic containing magical magnetic tape that was able to play back music on fabulous devices variously known as boomboxes, Walkmen, or, less creatively, tape players. In the same way that albums are sold in MP3 format on Amazon or iTunes today, which is itself becoming borderline anachronistic in the age of Spotify and Apple Music, or that CDs were sold a couple decades ago, back in the 80s and early 90s they were packaged for the public on cassette tape. But these were no mere passive devices through which to listen to music – oh no. They were much more than that. Continue reading “Stuff I Like: Ode to the Cassette Tape”

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Let Me See That Tootsie Roll

the faces have been hidden to protect the innocent

I went to the best middle school, like, ever. It was a GATE (gifted and talented education) school named Computech, and all the students there had to be accepted based on academic merit. I suspect there was a cultural/racial component to the admissions process as well, because it was a pretty diverse school located in a predominantly black part of town. This seeming duality – because in America “good school” and “black neighborhood” are not seen as naturally coexisting – gave the school an awesome character and a not-so-awesome reputation.

The perception of the school within the community was abundantly clear when I was asked, on more than one occasion, whether or not I had been “in a drive-by” while on campus. The people who asked this – because they weren’t just kids, either – always professed to have heard some story or other about kids in PE class having to “hit the ground” because of passing gunfire. This was patently ridiculous, as even the security guards who worked at the school were adamant that it was one of the safest in the city, but this impression of the school as a dangerous one persisted nonetheless. Continue reading “Let Me See That Tootsie Roll”

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Death Around the Corner

When I die, fuck it, I wanna go to hell
Cuz I’m a piece of shit, it ain’t hard to fuckin tell
– “Suicidal Thoughts,” Notorious B.I.G.

Funerals are dumb. They are typically overly theatrical and overly expensive and overly stressful for the people who are most in need of the emotional support that funerals are supposed to offer. I’m pretty sure that we’re all on the same page about the fact that funerals are for the living rather than the dead, but as a future dead person myself, I would hope that the wishes of the recently departed would have some bearing on the not-so-festivities that take place in their honor.

My family all knows my feelings on this matter. I don’t want to be buried – burn my ass and do what you will with my ashes. Whatever is most meaningful to them works for me, as long as none of me ends up in Boston. Because fuck those racist motherfuckers. Continue reading “Death Around the Corner”

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Insane in the Brain

There are different levels of crazy. Everyone in my family is certifiable, but we each occupy different rungs on the ladder of insanity. The top rung in my mind has always been firmly held by my grandfather, my mom’s dad, although in retrospect I recognize that he and his siblings may have an entire tower all to themselves. After all, it’s hard to compete for that top spot when your sister has managed to end up at sea with the Coast Guard after a one night stand with a sailor, forcing them to divert course and drop her off at the nearest port. It’s also hard to beat a brother who didn’t leave his house for twenty years, or the myriad others with substance abuse issues of all sorts, but I still believe my grandpa holds his own nonetheless.

He was from an extremely poor family in rural Arkansas and grew up with eight brothers and sisters. He never forgot growing up hungry or sharing a bed with all those siblings. That feeling of being cramped next to so many people never left him, and he blamed his hatred of crowded areas on this experience. It makes sense, but I doubt that’s the true origin of his phobia, mostly because social anxiety pops up in multiple members of the family. The distaste toward being touched by just about anyone is carried forward in both my mom and me, and god knows I was never forced to cuddle with anyone against my will. Continue reading “Insane in the Brain”

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Wu Tang Is For The Children

Nobody in my family can sleep. Between OCD, depression, anxiety, bipolar, etc., falling – and staying – asleep requires a gargantuan effort. We differ in how we approach this problem – meds? supplements? willful denial? – but we all struggle with it in one way or another.

My oldest daughter has dealt with sleep issues off and on since she was about 8 years old. There would be nights where she would go to sleep around 9:00 only to wake up at midnight and not be able to go back to sleep at all. Cold medicine, though, can knock her on her ass. So when she has the sniffles or a cough, a little Dimetapp goes a long way. My only concern was that I never wanted her to get to the point of needing it to fall asleep, so one time, after a week-long bout with mocos, I told her it was going to be her last night with the medicine. When she asked why it mattered, I explained my desire for her not to become dependent on it. Her response? “Why? Would I have to go to rehab?” This immediately activated my Amy Winehouse synapses, so of course I began to sing, “They tried to make me go to rehab, I said – “ Continue reading “Wu Tang Is For The Children”

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Straight From Da Streets

A kid’s first boombox is a beautiful thing. Mine was a bit of the divine made by Panasonic which has survived to this day. (Side note: they don’t make shit like they used to. I’m not one to opine for the “good old days,” but I can’t think of any piece of technology made this millennium that has lasted even half as long.) It was, of course, unnecessarily large, considering it had but one CD and one cassette player, along with a few knobs for audio settings. These knobs were no small things, though, as I marveled over them as if they were indicative of the caliber of machine I had just acquired. Treble? Bass?? Good god, I could do ANYTHING with these controls!

I got this boombox at the age of ten after lusting after a friend’s stereo and begging my mom for my own. Yes, I had had a puny cassette player and even a Walkman (that will be a story for another time), but this was another matter altogether. This was the kind of the thing that made other kids ooh and aah over my luck at receiving such a marvel of modern technology. Looking back, I’m sure it was a below average music system, but at the time, the fact that my friends were in awe of it was enough for me. Continue reading “Straight From Da Streets”