A Quick History of Canadian Hip Hop Info-Graphic

A Quick History of Canadian Hip Hop Info-Graphic

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A Quick History of Toronto 1787 - Present

A Quick History of Toronto 1787 - Present

It must have been five years now, full of certainty, promise and substance I made my power move.  To hell with the naysayers and pundits pushing me to stay put, I knew what was best for me.  I was grown, full of knowledge and not to be told a damn thing about life.  Pushing forward I did me.  My career would figure itself out; life was not etched on some tablet of fate for me to follow. I caught onto a few gigs, worked nights, days and in betweens to make ends meet.  Shit worked out for a while but as before I wanted more and more.  Sure my attitude wasn’t the best nor was it meant to be.  I am who I am for better or worse. In the time of now, high school is a distant memory and few hundred miles away.  As I walk the streets on this French road with English sign in hand, I dare not look back over my shoulder.   I sense it as I feel the pavement under my feet.  And though I would never admit this to anyone, once again the tingling sensation of opportunity and my steps are diverting in opposite directions. On a simple turn of my neck and pivot of my hips I would run towards it and beg another chance.  But as the saying goes, “Pride will come before the fall.”

It must have been five years now, full of certainty, promise and substance I made my power move.  To hell with the naysayers and pundits pushing me to stay put, I knew what was best for me.  I was grown, full of knowledge and not to be told a damn thing about life.  Pushing forward I did me.  My career would figure itself out; life was not etched on some tablet of fate for me to follow.

I caught onto a few gigs, worked nights, days and in betweens to make ends meet.  Shit worked out for a while but as before I wanted more and more.  Sure my attitude wasn’t the best nor was it meant to be.  I am who I am for better or worse.

In the time of now, high school is a distant memory and few hundred miles away.  As I walk the streets on this French road with English sign in hand, I dare not look back over my shoulder.   I sense it as I feel the pavement under my feet.  And though I would never admit this to anyone, once again the tingling sensation of opportunity and my steps are diverting in opposite directions.

On a simple turn of my neck and pivot of my hips I would run towards it and beg another chance.  But as the saying goes, “Pride will come before the fall.”

Because of you I am born… You have many layers, shapes and sizes, and go through varieties of these throughout your life.  It is you, who are the shield of my infancy, and now entices and at times repulses me.  Your genius is your smooth texture and light but hardly noticeable trail of peach fuzz.  The indentation in your center has been the cause of many late night sessions dedicated to that region and more… southward bound it has taken me on numerous occasions.  The trail leading undoubtedly to places inextricably linked to the first six words of this discussion with you. In one lifetime you cause life, envy, lust, jealousy and at times rage, leading back full circle to death.  Some parts of the world you are to be hidden and never seen.  While glad to be familiar with you, recognition of the purpose of hiding you is not lost on these fingers.  Your importance is such that your sensual partners in crime to the eye at times feel too vulgar, yet you are able to show yourself to everyone.

Because of you I am born… You have many layers, shapes and sizes, and go through varieties of these throughout your life.  It is you, who are the shield of my infancy, and now entices and at times repulses me.  Your genius is your smooth texture and light but hardly noticeable trail of peach fuzz.  The indentation in your center has been the cause of many late night sessions dedicated to that region and more… southward bound it has taken me on numerous occasions.  The trail leading undoubtedly to places inextricably linked to the first six words of this discussion with you.

In one lifetime you cause life, envy, lust, jealousy and at times rage, leading back full circle to death.  Some parts of the world you are to be hidden and never seen.  While glad to be familiar with you, recognition of the purpose of hiding you is not lost on these fingers.  Your importance is such that your sensual partners in crime to the eye at times feel too vulgar, yet you are able to show yourself to everyone.

The harder I try to keep still, the more I feel as though I’m losing control. My heart racing. I feel my body being pressed further into my seat, like that feeling right before take off. The world flying past, visible only as a constant horizontal motion. ‘Be still…’ I tell myself, ‘calm your thoughts.’ But inside me lives the contradiction. I betrayed myself once more. What happened? What should have never happened again. I went too far. I lost control. They would always tell me how much I let shit get to me, but I never got it really. I do wear my heart on my sleeve, but it’s only so people can clearly see the warning signs. If you don’t yield, is it the sign’s fault or should you have been paying closer attention? They call what I have a ‘temper’. I call it a re-action. The result of provocation. And what you may or may not be aware of, still affects the consequences of your actions. So ‘Don’t push me’, what I would always say. But while I know I think I’m slow to anger, I know I’m quick to rage. And what that was back there, was rage. To say rage is unproductive, is to say joy is adequate. Rage clouds your darkness, and blinds your light. It makes you forget the truth; that this, whatever this is, will not last. If only you could just take that one extra breath before you get to the place that rage lives; the one that draws in the clear air of better judgement, because the one thing you can’t do is take back rage once it’s been spent. But now it has already been spent, however reckless and needlessly. I’ve heard that life is a collection of moments, and clarity often comes in a flash. So when you least expect it, prepare for the lesson; the most impossible juxtaposition. And I’m soon to learn that my temper may cost me everything. With the moment of rage now a blur in the reflection, all  I have now are my fractured thoughts on what I’ve just done, and the inevitable uncertainty that lies ahead.

The harder I try to keep still, the more I feel as though I’m losing control. My heart racing. I feel my body being pressed further into my seat, like that feeling right before take off. The world flying past, visible only as a constant horizontal motion. ‘Be still…’ I tell myself, ‘calm your thoughts.’ But inside me lives the contradiction. I betrayed myself once more. What happened? What should have never happened again. I went too far.

I lost control.

They would always tell me how much I let shit get to me, but I never got it really. I do wear my heart on my sleeve, but it’s only so people can clearly see the warning signs. If you don’t yield, is it the sign’s fault or should you have been paying closer attention? They call what I have a ‘temper’. I call it a re-action. The result of provocation. And what you may or may not be aware of, still affects the consequences of your actions. So ‘Don’t push me’, what I would always say.

But while I know I think I’m slow to anger, I know I’m quick to rage. And what that was back there, was rage.

To say rage is unproductive, is to say joy is adequate. Rage clouds your darkness, and blinds your light. It makes you forget the truth; that this, whatever this is, will not last. If only you could just take that one extra breath before you get to the place that rage lives; the one that draws in the clear air of better judgement, because the one thing you can’t do is take back rage once it’s been spent.

But now it has already been spent, however reckless and needlessly.

I’ve heard that life is a collection of moments, and clarity often comes in a flash. So when you least expect it, prepare for the lesson; the most impossible juxtaposition. And I’m soon to learn that my temper may cost me everything. With the moment of rage now a blur in the reflection, all  I have now are my fractured thoughts on what I’ve just done, and the inevitable uncertainty that lies ahead.