grinding

I would apply to be MIA’s backup dancer/ choreographer, Paula Abdul to Janet Jackson style, if everyone else in NYLA wasn’t already palming that stick shifty (Anyway, I only work with unknown artists with a specific vision, or multi-million dollar productions like Honey II. Mekhi Phifer, holler at your pas de bourre). Last night, the captivated throngs scrum out her name in between songs, of which she played her entire record Arular, the album of which makes me want to take up arms and join RZA in his teflon-bound superhero crime-fighting aspirations. Diplo backed the vinyl and another lady, who always, unfortunately, goes unnamed, sang and danced with her. Maya’s mic was down and she sang with guide tracks, karaokelike, which worked at her first show few months back (at the Fader party, where she performed galangfirefiresunshowers and bounced) but in a venue with already-shitty sound, was not ideal. also i could not see. i watched three songs, and the rest of the time danced in the corner by myself, or tried to go to the bathroom. fyi, the knitting factory bathroom is under construction.
but people, it was her 5th show ever or something, she is being saddled with all this fancy-fame and fetishizing, getting jockeyed by Jay-Z and LA Reid for the Def Jam, certainly overwhelmed and she probably cannot see peoples’ motives from Adamski.
also jessica, i feel that way too about the ivy league, but being solid in the knowledge we are both as smart as attendees of said universities, with the one disadvantage of having to look up Latin phrases on m-w.com and also hiding the “Education” part way, way down in the bottom of the CV. And in relative perspective, I am like, my grandma did not even know how to read or write, so on the educational curve of my fam, I am doing fucking awesome! Besides, we are putting out a magazine with heart and horns.
and now we’re going down for a bagel.