Okay. Time for more blogging.

First of all, the month of June saw two more reviews for As Knowledge Kills Beauty. The first was in SLUG Magazine, and the second was in In Magazine. Those links will take you to the pages with the reviews.

Also... buy the CD! Click the cover:


Next, I've been spending a lot of time with the Salt City Slam team, since I'm on the team. We're headed to nationals in just under two weeks, and we today found out the teams against which we will be competing in the preliminary rounds:

Bout 7:
New York Urbana
Los Angeles
Salt Lake City
Decatur

Bout 27:
Salt Lake City
Flagstaff
Atlanta
Fayetteville

In any case, I'm very excited about nationals. We've been practicing a lot, obviously, and I think that we're going to give great performances. Sweet!

On another note, I've been working on another glassEyeballs site overhaul. It's not very far along yet, but I would eventually like the site to not be just a blog again. Also, I'll be posting some recordings of my poetry soon. And perhaps more music. We'll see.

Labels: poetry

That's right, folks! Finally, As Knowledge Kills Beauty is finally on iTunes. I'm excited, and you should be, too. For your copy, you can click the link below:



It's an excellent CD. I know because my mother told me so. Buy it!

Labels: music

Ottava Rima for IHOP Waitresses
The first was closely trimmed, aloof, and meek.
A second smoked, on break, outside the door.
The third had only worked there yet a week,
and swept the scrambled eggs up from the floor.
The fourth: an actress waning from her peak,
whose lost successes made her seem unsure.
And from the kitchen he would shout their names,
their lives the only power he retained.

Labels: poetry

The ringing in my ears is a choir of silence.
I am immutable here,
preserved by the solitude
like the grazing animals frozen in layers of
the earth's wisest rock.
I imbibe the night with consciousness and calculation,
but leave no footprint on its soft frame
at which it might look back to remember me.
This corner is a spilled bag of marbles,
and I watch, a hapless child,
as each person spreads across the carpet,
or is lost into the vent.

Labels: poetry

Today, As Knowledge Kills Beauty got another review.

"Gripp comes correct with a very complete release that eclipses the status quo rap disc."
-Justin "Tha Shiznute" Chandler for RapReviews.com
Read the full review...

I would like to note, though, that they made a mistake. They wrote that I produced, recorded, and mixed all of the tracks except I Rhyme Better Than You. I did record and mix everything, but I would be remiss if I didn't give credit to the producers that supplied beats.

• SoulKlap produced:
  Weaponry
  Spraypaint


• Surreal produced:
  Without You
  Over and Over


• Martamius produced:
  I Rhyme Better Than You


• E. D. Miles produced:
  Watching You Watching Me

Also, I got an e-mail from SLUG Magazine that alerted me of a pending review from them, too. I expect that in the June or July issue; keep an eye out for it. I'll post a link here when it's published...

On an entirely different note, I've been fighting with the technical support of a company I will not name, trying to get the CD into the iTunes music library. They assured me that it was being reviewed and would be up shortly. Once again, I'll post more information about that when I have it.

Labels: music

Today, I created a Blogger account to host glassEyeballs content while I'm redesigning the site. I backposted two poems that I wrote. There should be new content coming soon. I've been recording some new songs for my next CD—tentatively an EP called Pleonasty—and also doing some recording with members of the Salt City Slam team. Which reminds me. I made the Salt City Slam team. I've been working on some new slam pieces, and as soon as I've got recordings of said pieces, you can be sure that they will be posted to glassEyeballs. There is plenty to come. Stay tuned.

Labels: music, poetry

That night, remembering took conscious effort.
The meandering, unfulfilled drive home was gentle on my stomach.
I was relieved, and focused on each new headlight as it passed,
conceiving of each's story.
Ours sat between us, straddling the gearstick,
but was quiet and respectful,
listening perhaps to the static of the air
rushing by outside.
Her face was draped with apathy;
she did not look at me.
Instead, our sparse conversation was held sidelong,
formed in swirling, confused minds,
and cast with embarrassment from the corners of dried mouths.

Labels: poetry