Wednesday, July 27, 2016

i wanna be like killer mike

in the year of our lord, 2015, the great philosopher big sean (sean don if you're nasty) rapped, "i wrote myself a million dollar check in fifth grade/I put it on the wall and promised it'd be this way." while the line doesn't quiiiite rhyme, the motivational sentiment remains.

clearly, my man sean is also a proponent of the law of attraction. i was intrigued when i heard this lyric, as the LOA typically appeals to bizarre middle-aged white men that host sweat lodge retreats, millennials who read the secret and attribute every good or bad event to *~the universe~* (guilty as charged), and jim carrey. the basic tenet is that like attracts like, and that positive thinking brings about more positive circumstances in our lives. pretty straightforward stuff. and then, i realized what i love about hip-hop. well, besides those sick beats that i bump in my impreza en route to my corporate job, and the fetty wap lyric, "so fine, i swear i see you with my left eye."  what i love is the unapologetic arrogance of its key players. all dj khaled does is win. every time you see drake, it looks like he hit the lotto TWICE. 2 chainz just ate a $300 hamburger. lil' wayne's been fly so long, he fell asleep on the fuckin' plane! nicki minaj is on a diet, but she's doing donuts in the six-speed. and don't even get me started on kanye.

while some may view this ridiculous bravado as off-putting, i think it should be an inspiration to us all, honestly. misogynistic lyrics aside, i think that all of the bragging and boasting can certainly be applied (more humbly, natch) to our own ambitions and pursuits. i won't go so far as to say that these mainstream rappers are lacking in talent; have you heard some of kendrick lamar's brilliant verses? but also, have you heard some of french montana's terrible verses? "shorty saw the wings on the car/she forgot about her plans for tomorrow?" i could probably freestyle something that's ten times better ... and probably have, after a few glasses of riesling. i think that was also the night i felt inspired by chris brown to change my tinder tagline to "i don't fuck with broke bitches." but i digress.

my point is, it seems to me that most of these guys quite literally faked it 'til they made it, writing rhymes about bugattis, bling, and bitches until that actually became their reality. or such is the story they tell us. for all we know, they could be living at a holiday inn and relying on food stamps. but we buy into their larger-than-life projections and set our sights on more for ourselves, with aspiring teenagers peddling mix tapes on the street and upper-middle-class women like myself trying to twerk at suburban dinner parties.

you may not dream about fancy cars or private jets or gold grills. personally, i'd feel pretty pimpin' with a six-figure salary, a published book, and an apartment with in-unit laundry. when i crank up the waka flocka flame as i'm churning out a blog post, or nod along with rich homie quan while i'm lugging my sheets and towels to the washing machine in the basement, all of those things feel a bit more within reach, thanks to their not-so-quiet confidence.

come to think of it, i guess a million dollar check would be pretty nice, too.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

50 things that make me ridiculously happy

at least once every year, i dig up this xojane article in which julieanne smolinski shares her happy list -- stuff that always makes her smile and reminds her of the good in life, including "videos of pigs running" and "terrible magicians."  i did a similar post a few years ago, but i felt like it was about time for a refresh. what would be on your list? share 'em in the comments!

1. bungalow houses
2. pizza parlor smell
3. this video that i took of drunk basics singing miley cyrus in a new orleans karaoke bar

A video posted by Kim Windyka (@kimmyloowho) on

4. the fact that there's a band called diarrhea planet and they're actually good
5. rapping A$AP rocky's "fuckin' problems" in full
6. summer thunderstorms
7. this banana cake i bake that's soooo gooood
8. dunkin' fucking donuts
9. exchanging a smile with a cute stranger
10. the "daughter's hand" episode of beavis and butthead
11. the idea of getting a beavis and butthead tramp stamp
12. dancing like a ratchet ho to hip-hop in my apartment and sometimes in public
13. watching hip-hop choreography videos
14. going to weddings
15. saying "dishes are done, man" from don't tell mom the babysitter's dead, apropos of nothing
16. meeting delightfully weird people while traveling
17. sleeping in my own bed after traveling
18. sinbad's stand-up comedy
19. synchronicity
20. tilt-a-whirls
21. a first kiss that gives me the tingles
22. when multiple friends send me hanson-related content at the same time because they know how much i love them
23. the song "move, bitch" by ludacris and mystikal
24. tacky thrift store t-shirts
26. finishing the crossword
27. skateboard vert competitions
28. my friend's apartment in portland, maine that's straight out of the '90s:

29. kurt vile's wakin' on a pretty daze on vinyl
30. jackass
31. coolidge corner in brookline
32. american eskimo puppies
33. butcher-block countertops
34. this live performance of "get found" by bass drum of death

35. remembering that my old neighbor had ass-length blonde dreadlocks
36. pretty much every line from she's the man
37. buying apple cider donuts in the fall
38. a good cross-breeze in my apartment
39. witty text banter with a guy i really like
40. harry styles
41. porch swings
42. rompers
43. jaren johnston's voice, goddamn:

44. vacation anticipation
45. pickford in dazed and confused
46. eating brunch and reading trashy magazines at the counter at trident booksellers on newbury street
47. the sweet vanilla cinnamon candle from anthropologie
48. the strokes from 2001-2004
49. when my family and i drunkenly dance around my aunt and uncle's kitchen island with utensils at almost every gathering
50. bars that have big buck hunter

Monday, July 11, 2016

new york weekend: 4knots 2016

this past weekend, i made my annual sojourn to new york city for the 4knots music festival in order to see one of my favorite bands, guided by voices, live. i have to admit, last year's festival was better for various reasons, but it was still a great time.

random prince mural in brooklyn, because ... prince.


- upon my arrival to the big apple, you best believe i made a b-line for the white castle on 8th ave -- duffel bag on one arm, ten-pound purse on the other -- and stuffed my sweaty little face with sliders. for those blissful 5 minutes, life was perfect.

- that night, we grabbed dinner at little dokebi, a cozy korean spot in greenpoint, where i had my first bibimbap experience (ahi tuna ftw). though i barely made a dent in my huge hot stone pot, the spicy/sweet sauce and the rice and the vegetables were the best. oh, and they brought us all pickled everything before the meal. yaaaasss.

- finally, my sunday brunch plans fell through, so i found this tiny gourmet oatmeal shop in greenwich village, cleverly called oatmeals. i snickered to myself as i ordered the "hot date" (dates, pecans, granola, peanut butter, and honey) from a cute-ass ponytailed dude who was probably way too young for me. oatmeal and iced coffee in hand, i strolled through washington square park and had myself a nice little manhattan sunday morning.


- after dinner on friday, our first stop was a williamsburg speakeasy-style cocktail bar called the richardson. i ordered a "no rocking chair," which had bourbon, honey liqueur, lime juice, aaaand some other stuff i can't remember, including a cinnamon stick garnish. i sipped and gawked at a bar back with the most glorious, intentional mullet i've ever laid eyes on.

- we couldn't maintain that highbrow vibe for too long, so we strolled over to a dirty dive known as the callbox lounge. this place had everything: a broken jukebox, a broken arcade game, chips on sale at the bar for $1/bag, and a ghetto disco ball/accompanying mirrored ceiling that provided the perfect illumination for the disco dance party that ensued. we rocked down to electric avenue, indeed.

- on saturday night, we hit up one of my new york spirit bars, high dive. unfortunately, the jukebox here was ALSO broken, but i dug up an old photo to show you what we're dealing with here.

ya dig? anyways, high dive also offers free popcorn that's smothered in old bay seasoning, and it's the perfect place to have long, drunken conversations with your best friends. plus, it's unpretentious and dark and kind of dirty, but not TOO dirty, and man, i just love it.


since last year's 4knots had twin peaks and mikal cronin and stephen malkmus, it was a hard bill to beat. however, guided by voices has been at the top of my "bands to see live" list forever, so it was a no-brainer that i'd be attending before they broke up for the 20th time.

earlier in the afternoon, diane coffee blew me away with his self-described "psychedelic motown" sounds, incredible stage presence, and adorable costumes. i didn't know much about him going into the set, except that he was the drummer for foxygen, but i came away a fan for sure. just pure fun.

after refueling for the evening with some rose and seafood mac 'n cheese at vbar, it was time for GBV. yeah, we were incredibly far away, and most of us only knew about 3 or 4 songs of their 50ish-song set, but they sounded great! and the other audience members more than made up for our inability to see the actual band.

uncle bob from way far away

there was the solo dude who went nuts for every single song: jumping, clapping, singing, air-guitaring-and-drumming, bonding with the random guys next to him. there were the middle-aged hipster couples (one of which included a bearded ginger man in a loud, floral-print adidas jacket) smoking weed. there was the small child on his dad's shoulders who kept plugging his ears, only to have pops remove his hands every time. "you will learn to love guided by voices, dammit!" we imagined the father whispering. DAD OF THE YEAR.