Hip-Hop is in a really good place going into 2016.
Hip-Hop is in a really good place going into 2016.
Looking to the sky… I wonder where the rainbows go?
To the girl who lights up my world, thank you, you’ve made me a better person. You always push me and check me on my bullshit. I love you. These songs make me think about you.
(While I figure out how to make my own playlists and such you’re gonna have to deal with the mix of YouTube videos and SoundCloud links, sorry not sorry.)
Maybe I’m just an idiot, but I just had the most awkward situation in the mens room, and I’d like to iron this out.
Well, it was 2:45pm I was back from lunch and I really had to use the restroom. Once I get there I see the cleaning cart of the old lady that maintains the floor I work in. I’m not the type of guy thats like… “ewww there’s a girl in the mens room ewwww!!” you feel me? So, i walk in there cause I can’t hold it any longer and I go right…
This lady… slams the door to the larger handicapped stall she was mopping at the time and I’m like woah… okay. I finish, wash my hands, and step out. As I walk back to my office this lady is across the hall pacing back and forth in front of the lady room.
As I walk past chillin, she basically pulls me to the side to tell me that if I want her to step outside so I can use the restroom to just tell to to get out. Meanwhile I’m thinking, I just wanted her to do her job in peace, and I just wanted to piss rq.
At that point I was like now this got AWK for no reason lady… cmon now. Could someone tell me if I just have no manners or if this lady is just like… overly sensitive to the sound of piss? I’m just thinking she shouldn’t be a janitor if it brings her that much stress… sheesh.
I get a call from my Father, which immediately gave me that odd feeling you get when the thought of hearing bad news when you answer the phone. I’m sure many of you may have felt that way when you get a late night call from a loved one, but usually its something totally fine. Well this time my fears were confirmed as I answered the phone. “Your brother got shot in front of the house and he’s in pain.” my father cried over the phone. I immediately got up from my desk at work and begged my Dad to tell me he was lying, he wasn’t lying. He tells me my brother got shot in the leg and that he seemed to be okay, but just in alot of pain. By that time I was half way to the elevator on my way to the train stop to go the hospital. I just didn’t know what to think.
My wife picked me up at the train stop and we headed straight for the hospital. That trip felt eternal, and it was filled with surges of emotion and pain as we anxiously fought through Miami traffic trying to get to Jackson hospital. It’s the first time this has ever happened in our family and we didn’t know where anything was in the hospital. We imagined he was in the emergency room, as kids we were led to believe that was like the ultimate destination when you’re really fucked up. We get to the counter and I asked the nurse I’m looking for my brother and I gave her his name. She couldn’t seem to find his information anywhere so I just told her, I don’t know if he’s here, all I know is that he’s suffered a gunshot wound. The man behind her turned around apparently to see the face of a young man whose brother had been shot. I guess he was curious what that sight looked like to someone else. The nurse looked at me an told me he must be in the trauma center, down the street on the left. Turns out there is a place worse than the emergency room, but with less people in the waiting room. I spoke to the security at the entrance and she told me visitors weren’t allowed at the moment. I thought to myself what, why wouldn’t I be allowed to see my brother? She then told me that a social worker would come see us. I think those were the hardest 30 minutes of my life. Waiting to hear anything back about my brothers state. I didn’t know if he was okay or if he might have suffered complications on the way to the hospital. The anxiety was killing me. I began to imagine the worst. This is when I started shaking and crying along side my mother, neither of us ready to bury him.
At 11:09am a detective comes out of the trauma center to tell us that my brother suffered two gunshot wounds, one in the left leg and one in the left arm, as well as a laceration to the right side of his head (caused by the butt of the gun), but that he was in stable condition.
It felt like a huge pressure had been lifted off my chest. I could begin to breathe again. A few minutes later the detective called to tell me that my brother was ready to see me. Walking into the back of the trauma center was similar to any other emergency room except for the fact that every room was filled with all kinds of different people in horrible condition, covered in bloodstained clothes, and sheets. I’d never seen so much blood in person. It was a powerful experience being in a room filled with so much pain and suffering. Everywhere you looked there was someone hurt, and hurt bad. Gunshots everywhere, people with stab wounds, people recovering covered with bloodstained gauze. I didn’t see a singe family member though, everyone seemed to be alone. I finally reached my brothers bed and the sight was the same. A person in terrible condition, covered in blood and gauze. Hooked up to all kinds of tubes and monitors. Needless to say it was a tough sight, but I had to stay strong because it kills my brother to see me cry. Ever since I was a kid visiting him in jail, he always asked me please not to cry. But I really didn’t feel like crying. I was just so overjoyed he was still alive that any painful emotions we’re just sort of overridden, but I knew they were still there. I basically told him how happy I was that he was alive. He began explaining himself and everything that happened but I didn’t want him to. Fresh out of the situation, I felt like that would bring back a lot of the pain.
By this time they released my brother from the trauma center. All his vitals were perfect. He didn’t have the bullets in him, and he had everything cleaned up and treated so they sent him home. It was almost surreal to see my brother walking out of the same doors I walked through earlier to see him. My immediate thought was that I was looking at someone that had come back from the dead. I guess it’s because of that association most of us make between being shot and dying. I just felt like I was watching a walker waddling over with a limp and a hair full of blood. By the looks on the faces of everyone in the room at the time, they looked like they were thinking the same thing. Either way, it was true, they discharged him with nothing but a bag of bloody shoes, some orientation papers, and gauze. Shot, bloody, dazed, and confused we all went home to rest and recover. It’s just crazy to know what some people are willing to do for a bike and $50. Be careful who you deal with and who you are around.
I’m very excited to have this site up and running again. When I had started this site back in 2008 I intended to run it as a hip-hop blog, which I did to moderate success before I lost all my file uploads when that whole shit show with file sharing sites went down. But honestly, life is different now and that’s just not something I feel all too much anymore. Today’s online rap ecosystem is filled with same lazy aggregated content, hot takes and click bait. It’s a bunch of cornball shit to me and I don’t have the desire to be caught in that extremely tangled web. With that being said, you will always be able to find hip-hop music and my thoughts on it on KnoFlyZone because it genuinely speaks to my soul and it has been there for me in the best and worst of times. I’ve always been passionate about it, and my desire to share it will never change. But I want this to be something more. I want this to be my own little corner of the internet where myself and my friends can share music, thoughts, frustrations, observations and whatever else we feel like. Whether it be Sports, Music, Politics or random shit to get us through the day. Structure and limitations are out the door. There isn’t going to be a rhyme or reason for this. I’m not doing this to get noticed or make money. I’m doing it because I can. To give people a glimpse into the minds of a bunch of crazy Miami kids living life, taking shit day by day and trying to make something of ourselves in the process. We’ll have a couple of my friends from out of town contributing as well, so don’t worry this won’t get too Miami for you. (Trust, that is an actual thing.) I’m blessed to know and have so many brilliant and talented people in my life, I want to give them a platform to be able share their gifts with those who care to look.
So there you have it. That’s what life in KnoFlyZone is going to be. The obligatory short intro post is out of the way, I’m gonna proceed to dump a bunch of shit you guys should listen to now instead of reading words I’ve typed.