
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
KIROKAZE

@theartofmadeline
wallacepolsom
RMH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
h

JVL

blake kathryn
🪼
occasionally subtle

⁂

Product Placement
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
taylor price
Three Goblin Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Claire Keane
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@saintxnero
We are no longer seen as human beings with free spirits and creative thought, who love, work and build. We are now data. Statistics. Graphs. Pie charts. Profit margins. Experiments. Reports. Markets. Files.
I’ve been studying Michael Jackson more deeply, really looking into his life and how the industry treated him, and that led me down the path of Prince and how he fought back by going independent and even giving up his own name just to take control. That shit opened my eyes. The music industry, for real, can feel like the devil when you see how creatives get used, and as someone who creates, I’m at a point where I don’t even want to sell my music. Not in this era, not with how streaming turned everything into numbers instead of feeling. I believe in keeping it free, letting it exist for what it is.
At the same time, I’ve been finding myself drawn back to physical media, real, tangible shit you can hold onto. As I get older, I don’t know exactly where I’ll be in ten years, but right now, I’m chasing peace more than anything. And I’m realizing peace isn’t in the industry or the noise, it’s in the people around me. Family, the ones I care about, they’re starting to mean more than everything else. I’m learning to slow down, step back, and really see how blessed I already am.
I never really knew my biological father like that, he felt more like a side quest character in GTA, someone I’d randomly run into where the dialogue never really matched the moment. Sometimes he’d be normal, telling me he was proud of me and my brothers, and I won’t lie, I never really hated him, but a lot of what came with him was weird energy and situations I didn’t realize were abuse at the time, things I saw him do to my brothers and my mom that didn’t fully register until I got older. He always had money, always moving like everything was good, but as I grew up I started seeing it for what it really was, more finesse than foundation. The truth is I never felt that deep resentment people expect, he had this whole idea in his head that I was hurt about him not being there like my brothers were, but honestly I wasn’t, I had someone raising me, I had a dad, and the only thing I ever really missed was understanding where that side of me came from. Daryll, the man I’m named after, that’s my dad for real, he gave me structure, discipline, made sure I had what I needed and showed me real love, I was a daddy’s boy growing up, but as I got older I started realizing we’re similar in ways that clash, and instead of always standing firm in who I was I would adjust, present a version of myself I knew he’d understand, not even on purpose it just became automatic. Looking back I think that’s where I learned what love really looks like, sometimes it’s compromise, not losing yourself but knowing everything doesn’t have to turn into a battle, you regulate what you give and what you hold onto, because just because someone sees the world different than you doesn’t make them wrong, and it doesn’t mean you stop loving them either, at the end of the day everybody just wants love and support, what they do with it is on them.
observing everything, believing less
not here to follow narratives, just breaking them down
building my own perspective in a world that profits off confusion
faith, creativity, discipline
protect your mind or lose it to the timeline
The digital age was supposed to bring us closer but this shit really exposed how easy it is to control people when you control what they see, cause now everything just noise and half these opinions ain’t even real it’s bot pages and niggas getting paid to push narratives, repeating the same take over and over until it sound like truth, and people don’t even question it they just pick a side and run with it, like thinking for yourself got replaced with whatever shows up on your timeline the most, and what’s crazy is tabloids ain’t even tabloids no more it’s just random pages turning people’s lives into content posting out of context clips, messy headlines, feeding off outrage cause outrage pays, and nobody got integrity no more it’s all engagement farming, clicks over truth, attention over reality, and if you step back and really look at it this shit bigger than just social media it’s control, it’s influence, it’s shaping how people think without them even realizing it, that’s why I been pulling back more cause I’m not about to let an algorithm tell me how to feel, what to believe, or who to be, I’d rather go quiet and build my own perspective than keep getting programmed like everybody else
DJ Akademiks really might be one of the clearest blueprints for how media has shifted in the internet era.
If you really step back and look at it, the way hip hop news, commentary, and “journalism” operates now feels heavily influenced by what he started. Fast updates, personality-driven reporting, mixing facts with opinion, and keeping the audience constantly engaged. Whether people want to admit it or not, that formula stuck.
And yeah, I’ll say it honestly. Akademiks today isn’t exactly the same as he was before. There was a time where it felt like he didn’t care who he had ties with, he was just reporting on everything. Now it feels more selective, more industry-aware. But that doesn’t erase the fact that he helped create the lane everyone is eating off now.
What’s interesting is watching how people who used to criticize him ended up moving in a similar direction. Platforms and personalities that once stood on “pure music critique” have slowly shifted into covering drama, news, and cultural moments. Even someone like The Needle Drop, who built his platform off music reviews, has started leaning more into commentary and reporting. It’s not necessarily wrong, it’s just… noticeable.
Then you’ve got traditional voices like Ebro and Hot 97, who used to openly bash Akademiks and everything he represented. Now, a lot of what they do feels like a polished version of the same formula. It’s like the game changed, and instead of resisting it, everyone adapted to it.
But here’s where it gets tricky.
A lot of these hip hop media pages claim they’re “for the culture,” yet push misleading narratives, exaggerated headlines, and content that clearly prioritizes engagement over truth. At some point, it stops being reporting and starts being manipulation.
And what really stands out to me is how selective the criticism is. We’re quick to police artists like Drake when it comes to “protecting the culture,” but stay quiet when it comes to outsiders who profit off that same culture while reshaping the narrative around it.
That contradiction doesn’t get talked about enough.
But that’s just how I see it.
I’ve always had J. Cole at the top when it comes to rappers. Not because he’s the flashiest or loudest, but because he stays true to who he is. I never needed him to act like something he’s not. Same thing with Drake. When he leans into melodies, emotions, or even the commercial side, I get it. I understand the lane he’s in, and I accept it for what it is. It’s art. It’s intentional.
Even with Kendrick Lamar, I respect the craft and the perspective. All three of them carved out their own lanes and did what they were supposed to do in their own way.
But where it started getting weird for me is when that line between authenticity and industry started getting blurred. You can’t preach anti-industry, anti-system messages and then turn around fully backed by corporate machines, moving like a brand instead of an artist. That contradiction don’t sit right.
And honestly, I knew hip hop was in a strange place when we kept letting certain things slide. Misogyny, homophobia, glorifying street shit that should’ve been left behind by now. The culture evolved, but some of the mindset didn’t. It’s like we grew musically, but mentally we still stuck in old cycles.
It really hit me how off things got when people couldn’t even grasp how damaging certain labels are, especially when you’re running a billion dollar brand. That’s not just music anymore, that’s legacy, business, influence. That kind of stuff matters whether people want to admit it or not.
Now it feels like the space is crowded with people who aren’t really rooted in the culture speaking for it, shaping it, and influencing it. And instead of people genuinely enjoying music, we got fans picking sides like it’s a war. Stan culture over real appreciation.
I still love this music shit, for real. That’ll never change. But I can’t ignore what it’s turning into.
A nigga ruled by lust will never be satisfied.
You can give him love, loyalty, intimacy all that real shit and he’ll still be looking for more. Not because you weren’t enough. Because the void inside him runs deeper than anything another person could fill.
Lust ain’t really about the woman. It’s about the emptiness inside the man.
When a nigga is spiritually empty, disconnected from God and from purpose, he starts chasing bodies thinking it’ll quiet something in his soul. But nothing outside of him will ever fix what’s broken within him.
That kind of man keeps taking and taking not because you weren’t enough but because he’s trying to outrun the parts of himself he refuses to face.
And in the process he leaves broken hearts behind like they were just distractions from the healing he actually needs.
Lately I been reading my Bible more and realizing something about Jesus people don’t talk about enough. He was full of love and grace but there were certain things he never tolerated. Hypocrisy. Acting righteous in public while your heart dirty in private. Jesus called that out every time. Matthew 23 type energy. Manipulation disguised as spirituality. Using faith to control people instead of actually helping them grow. Exploiting the vulnerable. Jesus flipped tables over that kind of shit. Literally. Religious performance with no love behind it. You can quote scripture all day but if there is no compassion in your heart it means nothing. Pride that refuses correction. A hardened heart matters more to God than appearances. fear based control. Jesus never forced loyalty or belief. Truth doesn’t need to threaten people. The more I read scripture the more I realize Jesus wasn’t soft the way people try to paint him. He was loving.But he stood ten toes in truth. And that’s the type of faith I’m trying to walk in.
Original art by Takeshi Obata from his artbook Blanc et Noir
I wasn’t planning on writing this.
Honestly, I’ll probably delete it.
But I’m writing it anyway.
I had a conversation with my therapist recently.
We were talking about my creativity, the things I keep building through fashion, music, and film.
The worlds I create when real life feels too heavy.
She told me something that stuck with me.
She said vulnerability is the riskiest thing a person can do.
Not strength.
Not confidence.
Vulnerability.
Letting people see the shit you normally keep locked away.
The parts that don’t fit an image, a brand, or a narrative.
The parts you can’t clean up or control once they’re out there.
I’m in the middle of molding something right now.
A brand.
A vision.
A more intentional version of myself.
And maybe that’s exactly why this feels uncomfortable.
Because this doesn’t sell anything.
It doesn’t protect me.
It doesn’t perform.
This isn’t content.
This isn’t a rollout.
This isn’t me trying to be deep for attention.
This is me choosing to be raw on purpose.
Even if nobody ever reads it.
Even if I delete it right after.
Everything below this is the truth without polish.
⸻
Growing up, I was raised by my dad, Daryll.
He’s not my biological father, but he’s the man who’s been there since the day I was born.
So in every way that actually matters, that’s my dad.
I’m named after him.
On paper he’d be called my stepdad, but that word never fit.
He raised me from the ground up.
Still does in ways he probably doesn’t even realize.
When I was five, I found out he wasn’t my biological father.
That’s when I met my real one.
On my biological father’s side, I’m the middle child.
Three kids total.
To keep shit straight in my own head, I call him Pops.
That was the only way I knew how to separate the two without losing my mind.
Daryll is the man who showed up.
That’s my dad.
He also has sickle cell.
So a lot of my childhood was hospitals, waiting rooms, machines beeping while time moved slow as hell.
I watched him abuse drugs because his body was constantly at war with itself.
I saw shit no kid should ever have to see.
But I don’t blame him.
Not even a little.
Pain will make anyone desperate.
And despite everything, he took care of me.
I was spoiled in ways other kids weren’t.
As I got older, the illusion cracked.
I started seeing the bullshit my mom put herself through.
And how that bullshit always landed on me.
I carried adult responsibility way too fucking young.
I didn’t get to just be a kid.
Anger lived in that house.
Men in and out.
Watching my mom chase love in places that only brought chaos.
One man in particular.
Married.
Kids.
The embarrassment of that situation followed me everywhere.
I fought her dude once.
Almost ruined my life over it.
Shit I should’ve never had to do at that age.
But when you grow up feeling like the protector, you react before you think.
That environment wired me wrong in some ways.
Anxious attachment.
Abandonment issues.
A deep fear of being left.
When I love, I love hard as fuck.
No halfway.
No safety net.
Fast forward.
My dad moved to Dallas.
I moved out at nineteen.
Been on my own ever since.
I’ve dealt with death more times than I ever should have.
I watched my uncle die in front of me.
That image never really leaves.
You don’t forget the moment life exits someone’s body.
In 2020, my grandmother passed away.
She was the glue.
The backbone.
The one holding everyone together without asking for credit.
She died from ALS and internal bleeding.
Her body failed her slowly.
Watching someone you love trapped inside their own body is a special kind of hell.
She was suffering.
Everyone knew it.
My mom and my aunt couldn’t make the call.
So I did.
At twenty years old, I sat in a room and told them it was time to let her go.
The silence afterward was loud as fuck.
I was calm on the outside.
Inside, something cracked permanently.
I still carry guilt.
Even though I know it was mercy.
Even though I know she was in pain.
Sometimes I still hear her voice in my head.
Guiding me.
Grounding me.
Telling me I did the right thing.
I didn’t have my older brother there to carry that weight with me.
Not because he wasn’t alive.
But because that responsibility always landed on me regardless.
I was always the one holding shit together.
Always stepping up.
Always being strong.
That kind of weight is lonely as hell.
Around 2023, my biological father passed away.
Me and Pops never really had a real relationship.
Our conversations were always awkward.
But every time we talked, he’d tell me I was wise.
That I was handsome.
Call me a pretty boy.
I never felt that way growing up.
I was insecure as hell.
Always felt overlooked.
Like I tried too hard just to be accepted.
One of our last conversations was about women.
He was known for having multiple women, multiple kids.
He told me never let a woman control you.
Always keep your foot on a woman.
That’s not how I’m built.
I don’t agree with that shit.
But I appreciated him trying.
That was him being a dad in the only language he knew.
The last real thing he ever said to me and my brother D’Angelo was
Look at my sons. They handsome. They healthy. I’m proud of them.
I told him I’d see him around.
Got in my car.
Drove off.
A month later, he was dead.
Heart attack.
When he died, something in me went hollow.
Like I was walking around as a shell of who I used to be.
After that, I started noticing shit about myself I couldn’t ignore.
I wasn’t regulating my emotions.
At twenty three, my anger was unchecked.
If I felt invalidated, I’d sit in that rage until someone acknowledged me.
I didn’t have an addiction.
But I was abusing substances.
Not just drinking.
Pills.
Other shit.
It wasn’t about getting high.
It was about escape.
About turning my brain off.
I don’t get addicted easily, but that doesn’t make it harmless.
And people around me called it out.
I didn’t like that version of myself.
Because I knew I was avoiding myself instead of dealing with my shit.
Last year, I had another painful conversation with my dad Daryll.
About me not being his biological son.
Again.
Another thing my mom forced me to carry.
I’ve given her so much grace.
More than most people ever would.
I don’t hold anger toward her because what the fuck does that solve.
I’m nurturing.
I’m patient.
I show up.
But it’s never really felt like a mother son relationship.
Sometimes it feels like I’m a burden for even needing to be heard.
She listens.
She gives me time.
But it doesn’t feel motherly.
That shit hurts.
I wish she sacrificed more emotionally.
I know she worked her ass off.
I know she provided.
But I wish she put me and my younger brother first instead of chasing love.
Maybe he wouldn’t be so fucked up now.
Trauma molds you.
Death molds you.
Neglect molds you.
So now I pour myself into the few things that don’t abandon me.
The gym.
Creativity.
Fashion.
Music.
Film.
I build worlds because mine felt unstable.
I create because silence is too loud.
I keep moving because standing still lets everything catch up.
I don’t know the point of writing this.
I’m not looking for sympathy.
I’m not blaming anyone.
I just needed this to exist.
Because I’ve carried it long enough.
lately I’ve been posting less
not because I don’t have shit to say
but because I’m trying to unplug
trying to exist without turning my life into content
I’m going through heartbreak
the kind that sneaks up on you
with a woman I really thought saw me
saw the effort the time the generosity
the way I show up and stand ten toes
she called me the perfect man
and that still wasn’t enough
that shit hurt
but I’m not sitting in bitterness
I’m sitting in reflection
learning what the time taught me
learning how to take what I gave
and apply it better moving forward
so I’ve been diving deeper into myself
into the things that never left me
fashion music film
the shit that always made sense when people didn’t
I’m learning how to lean on myself
how to actually care about who I am
not just what I can offer
embracing the shit I love
while learning how to regulate my emotions
instead of letting them run the show
I’ve been in the gym
really trying to mold myself
into the man I’ve always seen in my head
stronger body
stronger mind
more discipline
more control
I’ve also been thinking about money
not in a greedy way
but in a building way
wanting a second source of income
so I can share wealth with my people
so I can create security
for myself and the ones I love
but while I’m doing all this inner work
I can’t ignore what’s happening around me
the ice situation in my city keeps getting worse
three lives taken so far
probably more we don’t even know about
and that shit weighs heavy on my heart
every single day
it’s hard trying to heal
while the world is actively bleeding
but ignoring it would feel like betraying myself
so I needed a place for these thoughts
because not everybody deserves access to me
not everybody gets to know how I think
or what I carry
I’m rebuilding myself
from the ground up
as a completely different man
burying the child version of me
that had to grow up too fast
and fully stepping into adulthood
I turned 27 in November
and I feel that shit
in my bones
in my choices
in the way I move
as I get older
I want to move with purpose
with proficiency
with intention
and only nurture the company
that actually supports me
this is me choosing myself
even when it’s uncomfortable
even when it hurts
even when it’s lonely
Consuming Fresh & Fit or Drew Afualo content is deadass grounds for a breakup. I do not care how you frame it or how ironic you think you are. If your algorithm is feeding you hours of that shit, it tells me exactly where your head is at. One side is built on bitterness, insecurity, and treating relationships like some weird power game. The other side is just reactive rage content that thrives off dragging people instead of actually building anything healthy. Both of them rot your perspective in different ways.
I am not about to sit here and argue with somebody whose worldview is shaped by outrage clips and echo chambers. I want peace, growth, accountability, and real conversations. Not gender wars, not dunking on strangers for likes, not “who hurt you” content disguised as confidence. If that’s what you’re consuming daily, eventually that energy bleeds into how you talk, how you argue, how you love, and how you see me.
I am trying to build something grounded and intentional. If your mental diet is chaos, resentment, and constant think pieces about who’s winning the battle of the sexes, we are not aligned. Simple as that. That’s not me being dramatic, that’s me protecting my peace and my future.
When I talk about emotions, I don't mean that fake surface level shit. I mean the default emotions you wake up with. Some people wake up every day sad. Some wake up angry. Frustrated. Anxious. And those emotions aren't random. They're signals. They're trying to push you inward, not distract you outward.
Like yeah, you might wake up anxious because you don't got money, but if we being real, that anxiety was there way before money even mattered. Or you wake up angry every day thinking you behind in life, but the real anger might be buried grief. Pain you never dealt with. Loss you brushed past. Shit like your pops taking his life and you never actually sitting with that shit. That's why you can't just stop at the surtace explanation. You gotta let those emotions lead you deeper instead of numbing them or brushing them off with "I'm good" or "'m cool" or "I'll be alright." That shit is just avoidance dressed up as strength. You gotta be honest with yourself. About what you've been through. About what hurt you. About how that shit actually shaped you. Because if you keep trying to outrun it or finesse your way out emotionally, it's just gonna keep showing up every morning louder than before. Healing starts when you stop lying to yourself about how you really feel.
I try to show up in quiet ways. I’ve realized most people don’t always want to talk about what they’re going through, and I respect that. So instead of pushing, I just show up however I can. I don’t force deep conversations before someone’s ready. I don’t make them unpack their feelings on the spot. I just pay attention. If their energy is off, I notice. If life looks heavy on them, I don’t ask a million questions I just pull up, sit with them, keep them company. I help with the small things that feel overwhelming when someone’s tired. I grab food. I straighten up. I fix the little things without making it a big moment. I don’t do it to be praised. I do it because that’s how I care. People sometimes mistake my quietness for distance, but it’s not that. It’s me giving them space to breathe while still showing I’m here.When I’m dating someone, I’m not trying to save them or rush their healing. I’m just trying to make whatever they’re carrying feel a little lighter. And usually, when they finally notice the little things I’ve been doing, that’s when they understand how deeply I really care.
The Selective Gatekeeping of Hip Hop: Why I Am Tired of Fans Policing a Culture They Do Not Fully Understand
There is a growing trend in hip hop discourse that I am beyond exhausted with, and it usually comes from a very specific type of white listener who truly believes that their love for Eminem or the golden era of boom bap somehow gives them the authority to define the entire culture. They hold on to this narrow idea of what hip hop is supposed to be, as if the culture stopped evolving in the late nineties and everything that came after that moment is somehow less pure or less valid. It is selective nostalgia dressed up as expertise.
But that version of the story completely ignores the biggest truth of the last twenty years. The South did not just contribute to hip hop. The South carried hip hop. From Outkast warning the world at the Source Awards that the South had something to say, to Cash Money rewriting what it meant to control a sound, to the crunk movement that redefined energy, to the trap era built by T I, Jeezy, Gucci, and the entire Atlanta wave that followed, the South shaped the modern landscape. There is no present day hip hop without the South. That is simply a fact, even if the purists refuse to acknowledge it because it does not match their nostalgia.
And then there is Drake, the favorite scapegoat for people who secretly resent the way he became the biggest name in the genre. They criticize him for being mainstream and ignore how he was one of the only rappers who competed with global pop stars while still keeping rap at the center of the conversation. While other genres were collapsing or losing relevance, Drake made hip hop dominate streaming and dominate the charts. He widened the arena for everyone. Whether people admit it or not, artists from every coast and every sound benefitted from the reach he created.
The Kendrick and Drake battle could have been a moment that brought people back to the essence of rap. Competition. Craft. Lyrical skill. Instead, it turned into something completely different. Nobody was trying to understand the situation from multiple angles. Nobody cared about truth or accuracy. The information flying around on both sides was messy, dramatic, and full of false narratives. Instead of bar for bar art, it became a spectacle built on exposing each other as men. The whole thing felt nasty. I did not respect any of that because at that point it had nothing to do with music.
And you see it most clearly in what the moment revealed about how outsiders participate in hip hop commentary. Hip hop is the only genre where two powerful Black men can have conflict and the entire internet suddenly feels invited to jump in and tear one of them down. It is the only space where the culture rewards the crowd that enjoys watching its stars collapse instead of celebrating their success. In no other genre do outsiders cheer for the downfall of the people who built the sound they consume.
The saddest part is that it happened during a time when the world needs unity more than ever. Instead of standing together, people used the beef as fuel to divide the culture even further. And then, after all that hype, after all that chaos, you fast forward a few months and hip hop is barely on the charts. The same people who were screaming that the drama was good for hip hop are now watching the genre slip in real time. Would they still say it was good for the culture if they were in the position of the artists whose reputations were on the line. Would they still say all that if they were one of the so called Big Three watching the world celebrate division instead of the music. Hip hop deserves a conversation rooted in understanding, not selective gatekeeping. It deserves fans who can see the full picture, not just the pieces they cling to. And it deserves unity, not spectacle.