…one day after work i went to go explore the city (Boston). It reminds me a lot of montreal…the architecture, the water…etc.
The people of course are different, and consequently the culture. But, I can see how I can really like it here. People are either mad ignorant, or fucking chill. Kids don’t like sitting near me on the train, yet, those in the “know” want to rape me….lol. Anyway, it’s ok i guess.
Enter the Latino: This fine ass creature has everything desirable in my quest for beauty (see Rollo May’s book ‘Quest for Beauty’). Darker features, a culture that shows mad solidarity when it needs to stick it to the majority (day without’em? …nah, all day with ‘em…uhn!)…..anyway, I’m constantly, as my boy shogun’s album is called, “caught lookin”.
Once Humble came to mount real and we went driving, and he was like “I got recognized yesterday!”…I was like “really?!?!”
Im not gonna lie, I thought that was cool as shit, since Mount Real isn’t his stomping grounds anyway…..but today, let me tell you, I was recognized not in my own hood, not in my own province, or even COUNTRY….downtown Boston……it was by my name not my face, but, the dude knew me still (Big up Basim)…he’s done a show with humble and has spoken with Balraj before, so that was dope ;) Turns out that Basim is part of this pakistani Punk band called the Kominas.
The Kominas are my Boston family…Imran (aka someone i’d make out with), Shahjehan (fucking stupid-regal ass name), and Basim (what up niggy?)…i love these guys. Basim was the first Komina I bumbped into…funny story:
There I am, walking around DT Boston (near park station), noting how many shoe stores there were within a few blocks, when my shoe broke. I turned back, and saw a very handsome sikh guy standing outside one, like he owned it…which I totally inferred he did, ’cause that’s how our people do. Anyway, we acknowledged each other, being the only two punjabi sikh’s in a kilometer radius..
His name was JJ and he was as handsom as he was generous. He consequently hooked me up with a pair of shoes that were $129, for $40. ….if that doesn’t warrant love, I dont know what does…..
The cool part was that his boy Basim (Komina #1) was standing in the back of the store where I was trying on shoes, and commented on my tatoo. He totally knew it was my MPC pads and we hit it off right away. He invited me to his birthday party that night that was taking place right around the corner in the basement of a posh-ass resto.
the conversation went as follows:
Basim: Hey, you should come to my birthday party tonight
Sikh: Im dowwwnnn
Basim: dope, im gonna play soca, bhangra, calypso, dancehall…
Sikh: (in his mind: iiirrrrkkkkkk) Dancehall? Im there…do you need help spinning, I have all my gear
Basim: Please man, feel free
Anyway, I spun that jam, we had a good time. I later found out that these muhfuckers have opened for Major Lazer….that’s when i spazzed and decided to be one of those little fish that gets around by sucking on the titi’s of a bigger fish…….the big fish titi’s being the Komina’s.
The Komina’s took it upon themselves to show me a good time, so I experienced my first Punk show ever. It was interesting…I took it as a cultural experience. The first band we checked was a metal band, and for some reason, this girl infront of me wore heals…..why? The moshing began and I took her 5 inch in my shin, while beer spilled all over my legs…
This doesn’t constitute any hate…I thought is was interesting. I would have been bent regardless if the beer was spilled on me at a Punk show or the Vatican…doesn’t make a difference. But what transpired as I went to take a break outside, really stung me…
Basim and I were outside the venue when Basim suggested we get my car and pull up in front and listen to tunes loud while we waited for the next set to come on stage….I was a little apprehensive, asking if reggae would be well received with such a crown.
Enter the Dope Punk:
To my surprise, I saw punk’s poppin and lockin to the Damian Marley blarin out my 99 cirrus…’twas serious. One started dry-grinding the hood and roof of my car. Basim and Seemi (what up gyal) were doing Bhangra outside the passenger door.
Enter the Covert Skin-Head:
We were having a good time right outside my ride when this guy, quite obviously under the influence, approached and said
“Hey, if you guys are looking for a dance party, I suggest you go somewhere else…”
I said
“Sorry Brother, we bought out tickets, we’re just waiting for the next set”
….he mozeed back angrily, grumbling something under his breath. He then returned, and said
“…it’s like you’re making fun of us with your music, get the fuck out of here….”
at this time, my new ace and partner in crime Arjun (mad love and respect), a buddy of Basim’s came out and got punched in the back of the head. Now, needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway, we were all coloured folks amongst a large body of other coloured folks…
I step out of the car and try to break the scene up, and get my people back in the car ….people are yelling at me “the cops are coming”…..that’s the last thing I need. I got to my door and as I was getting in, I heard people shouting at me, “go back to where you came from”…
Arjun got bust in his face, and I wanted to fire bomb the place. ..I still do. And I see that guys face in my head, it makes me want to tear the whole godamn world apart.
From the bloodclot glares on the train into town from Chelmsford, MA, to Boston, to the scuffle with these racist ass thugs….I love Boston. lol.
But, I came back to Mount Real and like hooking up with a previous lover, it was familiar while being guided by the pent up specific energy I can only express while being here…Montreal.
Bang Your Head –> http://youtube.com/watch?v=mxWPF8YPu94