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August 27, 2005


I woke up this morning in Laurel Canyon. I haven't spent a night here in years - at one point my family owned 10 homes in these hills, and today there's only 1 left and someone rents it out by the month. Last night after I cut out from the office, my friend picked me up and we hit the grocery store. I bought the fixings for Spinach Tagliatelle with Artichokes, Carmelized Onion, Spinach, Portabello Mushrooms, Roasted Red Pepper, Toasted Pine Nuts, Kalamata Olives, and White Wine Sauce; plus the stuff to make fried Polenta appetizer with Tomato Basil Cream Sauce and Provelone; and a salad with Red Leaf Lettuce, Scallions, Sweet Yellow Pepper, Roma Tomato & White Balsamic Viniagrette.

Came up the hill in my friends '87 custom Black on Black on Black american-made automobile (a former cop car) and turned past my alma mater, Wonderland Elementary School. I got to cooking and the homegirl called him; so she started to make her way up the hill once she learned food was involved. While listening to Mashup Radio Vol. 2, perfect for this crowd of a Motorsports marketing/management consultant, my Hip Hop-addicted ass, and the homegirl who works in brand marketing for Nike and pretty much listens to anything - we bantered back and forth without really bringin up the past.

The common denominator between us, our mutual former employer, is the "urban" fashion behemoth, Ecko Unltd. While we had some fun there, and some good times, we all have some stories and tales from the Rhino that ain't nothin' nice. Of course I was Senior Editor of Complex Magazine, while holmes consulted with them to blow them up in the motorsports world, and the homegirl worked her way up through the West Hollywood "Western Conference" office. There was some talk of Marc Ecko's new video game, and his recent run in with the NYC govt over his use of Graffiti as marketing; but once the pasta and salad came out, talk was cheap.

There's nothing like some home-cooked Italian food, some Weezer/Kanye West/Sneaker Pimps/GZA/DJ Muggs/DJ Warrior mashups, and three old friends doing the dishes together to strengthen old bonds. And for me, waking up in Laurel Canyon gets me juiced to stack big grits & get my own spot up here. After all, there's no place like home...

August 25, 2005


Self Scientific. DJ Khalil & Chace Infinite. The ones who brought U "The Return" and "Love Allah"? Their sophomore album drops October 25th on Angeles Records, but for now they've got the internets and the mixtapes goin nuts. Why? The first single, "King Kong". Featuring Bun B.

Dow Jones has it on
his new joint with DJ Chuck T, Rhettmatic (World Famous Beat Junkies) been spinnin' King Kong on KDAY and for party-rock wreck, and it's only a matter of time before the whole Hip Hop Nation starts asking each other, "Yo, B, did U hear that Self Sci & Bun B shit? M'fucken bananas, that's my word kid."


Yeah, so, anyway... Where was I? Spoke to Thirstin Howl III today. Waitin 2 hear this new cut he's got called "Spanish Chick" - I guess it's like "Magic Stick" but it's O.G. Vic Lo instead of not-so-O.G. Curt Jack.

And yeah, uh, he sent me this flick... Sorry holmeses, this is just how I'm manifesting my feminisms these days - putting up some eye candy for the ladies 2 check out and enjoy.

Also check for his shit on Tony Toca's new LP, Reggaetony. He's got the fuego cut on there, se llama "Pa Eso"...
check it out here...

And of course check out Big Vic @
The Spitfactory Online



Shouts out to "Dirty D" a/k/a Domino from Hiero for hooking me up with this tidbit. Security guards at Hiero & O.C.'s Toronto show didn't realize it, but I knew it the whole time...Hieroglyphics Crew ain't nothin' to fuck with man! Domino and O.C. took on a bevy of rent-a-cops and I'll let ya'll judge for ya'llselves who was victorious.

This could lead into a whole conversation about how venues in America, Canada, and probly all over the world have a lot of resentment toward Hip Hop artists because they are young, Black, gifted, rich and famous; and all the kids in their respective cities don't give a fuck about school or work, they just wanna see a Hip Hop show. Hieroglyphics' fans are some of the fiercest and most loyal in Hip Hop - many of them have the Hiero sign tatted on their bodies - and frankly these security guards are blessed by God that they didn't get torn to pieces by hundreds of die-hard Hiero heads on the way out of the show. I'm telling U, these kids will riot like Brits at a soccer/football match, that's my word.

Anyhoo...just goes to show U that U can't judge a book by it's cover, or think shit is sweet 'cause it's "underground". Domino doesn't flash his hood badge, ever, but he's still from one of the most notorious housings in San Francisco; trust me, I been there, and it's what's really, really, gully.

In other Hiero news, def visit the
www.hieroglyphics.com site for new music from Casual, A-Plus, Opio, and the rest of the crew.

And cop U a CD of PLEEMIX, Volume 1, right
here...it's only $10 and don't U know A-Plus/Adam 7 is yo' favorite producers' favorite producer??

The Hiero tour continues, hopefully sans violence, at these fabulous locations near U...

Souls Of Mischief / Casual / Pep LoveNon Phixion / O.C. / Boom Bap Project
Sat-Aug-27 Milwaukee, WI The Rave
Mon-Aug-29 OFF

Del The Funky Homosapien / Souls Of Mischief / Casual / Pep LoveNon Phixion / O.C. / Boom Bap Project
Sat-Sep-03 Santa Cruz, CA The Catalyst
Sun-Sep-04 Ventura, CA Ventura Theatre
Mon-Sep-05 OFF
Tue-Sep-06 Hollywood, CA House of Blues
Wed-Sep-07 San Luis Obispo, CA SLO Brewing
Thu-Sep-08 LONG BEACH, CA THE VAULT 350 Bold
Fri-Sep-09 San Diego, CA Epicentre

Souls Of Mischief / Casual / Pep Love/ O.C. / Boom Bap Project
Sat-Sep-10 Modesto, CA Carver Concert Hall


August 24, 2005

Humble Self Promotion (for once)

Peace dear readers. Just when I was feeling rather fed up, exhausted, and tired of looking at the few$1 bills in my pocketbook; listless from lack of proper rest and a recent overdose of stressful situations; and slightly lackluster from my recent diet of one meal every couple of days when I can afford to eat...an email arrived in my inbox. From an anonymous reader named "lilsoulja". I'm printing it here because, let's face it, I O.D. on words on P2P as it stands, and I'm sure all but none of you are reading the comments, since most of you only barely skim what I write. Yeah, I know what time it is...

"Not to be "super spiritual" or what not, but keep at your craft. We as humans are sometimes never satisfied and it can be certain that the future is not promised. Someone forwarded me a writeup (sorry itz not with me so I can't give credit to where itz due) on a documentary/film/blah on penguins. How they live to endure a harsh life...for their seed(s?). Okay, so it goes on and on and I can't go into all of that.I can see you as a coach but of course in life, we want to see the full benefits of our labor. Let me say this now that your unselfish attitude (from what I've read...[did they just turn the library lights off on me? lol]...) is enough to touch countless others enough for them to make differences in their lives.No $$$ could ever repay that. Thank you for unlimited inspiration and know that God has many blessings for us who follow that commandment...treating our brothers like our selves. Thanks sister.I don't know if I will ever get a chance to read all of your works...and to think that now I finally know what a freelance writer is...or should be. --Posted by lilsoulja to
How'd We Get From the Pyramids to the Projects? at 8/24/2005 07:48:28 PM"

He's right, no $$$ could ever repay a lot of shit. And to all you misers, scheisters, and curmudgeons out there, Blood family included, guess what holmes - U can't take it with U when U die. And you're all gonna die...some of U from your own arrogance. But that's up to God. Me, I'm just little old plain Miranda Jane, a rich little poor girl who made herself into something by any means necessary. Sure, my Daddy's rich, and my Mama was mighty good lookin' in her time...but none of that ever got me anywhere. My Muslimah mother-in-faith named me Nasira for a reason. A child born of the victorious One, who is victorious herself through helping others. Or as someone whom I respect very much said to me recently, quietly so no one would overhear, "Thank you for everything. You're an Angel."

Vaya con Dios...>

CIRCLES (Go Round and Round)

Last night I saw my homie, my main road-dog, my Ace - Cuervo - whom I haven't seen since 1992. I took the train to LB to meet him, and he rolled up on me on his bike (que Cholo); and it was as if 5 minutes had elapsed rather than 13 years. I love to write and share my opinions, so I love this blog shit; but this moment wouldn't have been possible without this blog. If kris ex hadn't been doing such immaculate work at http://warscribe.blogspot.com, I'd never have started this thing.

The other night, also in Long Beach, I went to the Battle of the Year afterparty/concert with DeLa Soul, Zion I, Crown City Rockers, etc. I had the pleasure to bless the circle with some of the best in B-Boying - Alien Ness/Zulu, E-Z Rock/Rocksteady, and Risky/Stylelementz to name a few. At the show I ran into some of the members of the S.O.L.A.R. Panel - Nah'l and T-Zone from Eternal Measure and Amad Jamal (AJ) who didn't even know the one another were at the concert; these are my brothers I ain't seen in years. I had no plans to go to the show, I had no ticket, I was on no guest or press list. I just showed my Cali drivers license and my Source I.D. and walked up in. Backstage Davey D introduced me to Brother J from X-Clan, and when he finished a sista I used to work with at Fox Kids/Fox Family came up to me and re-introduced herself as Brother J's wife, with her belly full of baby. I saw Madlib's physical brother Oh No, gave him huge hugs, and told him to tell Madlib that I have nothing but love for him and that I only have beef with Doom and Chris (Peanut Butter Wolf) behind that MadVillain bullshit. I ran into "Fairfax" which is my codename for P.S.C./LuckyIAm from Living Legends. My sista Lady Sukari was in the house, and we tooAfter the jam I built with L.A. Zulu King Mark Luv, and we talked about how I should join the L.A. chapter after all these years with the mission of recruiting jr. high and high school-age girls and women into the Universal Zulu Nation.

Rolling around with Crumbs, Risky, Bas-1, Blaze Fire, Atomic and the Stylelementz Crew this weekend, I overheard Crumbs talking to Sugar Pop on the phone. He worked on the 7A3 record back in the day, and I've recently been working with DJ Muggs and Chace Infinite on their upcoming label, Angeles Records. I also stopped by Zulu Gremlin's studio with Stylelementz and sat in on their recording session.

All roads are leading me back to O.G.'s, and all roads are leading to the fact that L.A. Hip Hop is in full m'fucken effect right now. I can't say we're back, 'cause we never left. Even though I've called Oakland, SF, Vallejo, Atlanta, Minneapolis, and Brooklyn home since 1992, my roots are here in Los Angeles. And I'm rolling with the Angels. Everyone says I talk too fast now, too much time in New York. U can see Brooklyn all over my persona, from my bamboo doorknockers with my name in Graffiti to my punk-rock hair (just did a redux with Purple & Fuschia...someone donate a digital camera and I'll post some photos). And while I'm still rockin' with Day By Day Entertainment out of Harlem, and of course with Tragedy Khadafi & 25 to Life out of QB, I'm from L.A., born and raised, and this is where I ride 'til the wheels fall off and the axel busts. KDAY is back on the air, and life is good. Bigga B lives in our memories everyday as the connections we made at UNITY back in the day come back full circle. My primo Valentine (SCOUT K.G.B.), may he rest in peace, walks with me and watches over me as I come in to my own as a B-Girl and Graffiti artist - amazed at how I've come so far, so fast. All my O.G. homies from all different sets and cliques are now gainfully employed - all of them are in film, television, music, and fashion. And we're running shit.

SOMOS LOS ANGELES, Y RIFAMOS - We are the Angels, and we rule.

MIRA, ja Una.

August 23, 2005


I just came across "the first lady of G-Unit"'s High School photo. U know what? Fame is a funny thing. In many ways I'm excruciatingly glad that I never acheived fame, only infamy and notoriousness.

But seriously. Compare our high school photos. Who was finer in High School? Those who've seen me lately, who's finer today? My body parts...all real. Hers? Who knows? Neither one of us are now or have ever been men, although some people hate me 'cause when I act mannish I ain't nothin' nice, and she's got The Game And 'Em calling her "Oliver".

But the real thing, the talent, the voice. I've got it. Talking, singing, or rhyming. Hands down. I'm no studio gangsta. So I'm calling U out Olivia. When I see U at Jerry's Famous Deli, or in the Nordstrom's Mac department, or at some random nail shop somewhere...it's on, Bitch. I'm not hating, I just don't think it's right that we're subjected to all this R&B (Rap & Bullshit) all the time, when the real voices are somewhere slipping into darkness. Will all the REAL rhythm & blues singers please stand up, grab mics, and slay these non-singing Olivia/Ashanti ass broads one-time?

That's all I'm saying.

Believe that.

Smile For Me?


“Mami, Mami! Smile, Ma. Ma, you so beautiful, I see you walkin’ by. Ma. I’m sayin’ ma. Why you don’t never smile?”

She kept walking, gum snapping, heels clacking on the concrete. She sped up the pace a little bit. “Those Dominicans are crazy. Always smoking blunts, and kickin some tired lines to any chick who walks by. I’m sure he’s broke as a joke anyway,” she spun the words inside her head.

Click, clack, click, clack. Down the steps to the train station. Snapping the gum. Buys a metrocard, swipes it, floats through the gate. Sashays toward the other end of the station. Sits down on the bench, crosses her long, brown legs. She examines her manicure, frowning. Snaps her gum. She looks up and sees him, standing against the wall, waiting on the train. Her heart’s desire. Huge diamond earring, 360 waves, platinum cable, diamond crucifix, Avirex jacket, Cartier watch, Blackberry in a Gucci case, matching Gucci belt. He turns his head slightly, but doesn’t look her in the face.

“Oh my God, oh my God. I know who that is. He’s one of those guys, one of those music moguls. What’s his name, Dame, Irv, Russ, something like that. Damn, he’s fine. Damn, he’s rich. Oh my God.” She snaps her gum, loud.

She’s clocking him. He looks at his watch. He checks his Blackberry. She checks her reflection in the mirror, puts on some more lip gloss, shifts her weight to accentuate her cleavage. He looks toward her, past her. Through her.

“Maybe I should say something to him. Maybe he’s gay. Maybe he needs glasses. Maybe he doesn’t see me over here. Maybe he’s married? He might be late for a meeting or something. I’m sure he has important business on his mind,” she mulls the situation over and over in her head.

“Hey Papi. Smile, Papi. I see you standing there. Papa, I’m sayin’. You don’t hear me talkin’ to you Papa?”

He gets off the train, takes the steps up two at a time, chain and cross jangling. He jogs a couple of blocks, late for his meeting, the fucking train’s always off-schedule. Should’ve taken the car service. Some crazy broad tryna kick it to him in the station. Pretty girl, but real loud and ghetto. Would’ve been his type five years ago. “Not today, dude, not today.”

He finally gets to the restaurant, scans the room with his eyes. Good thing they’re always late, even though he’s late, he’s early. He waits at the hostess stand. Hears the sounds of high heels click-clacking across the marble floor. He looks up and sees the hostess. Forgets he has a reservation. “Damn, that bitch is beautiful. No, no, she’s too stunning for me to even call her a bitch, that woman is gorgeous. She’s top notch. I could really go places with her by my side. She must be Dominicana or something. Damn.”

“May I help you, sir? Sir? Sir, may I help you? Do you have a reservation,” she asked haughtily. “He must be high. Probably another rapper. Too many blunts,” she mused.

“Oh, yes Miss. My apologies. My mind was somewhere else. I’m here to meet Mr. Kleinfeld, we have a 7:30 reservation,” he says. “Damn, she got some pretty, full lips, she could wrap those around my…”

“Yes, let me show you to your table. Please walk this way.”

She glides across the marble floors. He follows, head down, watching her ass switch back and forth. He sits down, ignores the menu, and watches her. Kleinfeld never shows up.

She finally gets off work after midnight, her feet aching from the work stilettos. She changes into her Nikes for the long trek home. She pads down the stairs to the subway, rides for 45 minutes, and gets off uptown. She pads up the stairs, up the street, and stops in front of the bodega.

“Mami! Oye Mami, I missed you today, you was at work?” She sees her man posted in front of the bodega. He’s so damn fine, skin glistening in the summer heat. He puts out his blunt on the pay phone. He walks toward her, and slides his hands around her waist. She pulls him close, closes her eyes, and relishes being in his embrace. They pull away from each other. “Did you talk to a bunch of bitches out here today in this heat Papi? Huh?”

“Mami, you know I only have eyes for you.”

She looks at him with her face screwed up.

“Ma, I’m sayin.”

She can’t help it. Her face breaks into a smile.

“Damn, Ma, I love your smile.”

They walk toward the building, smiling, holding hands, their sneakers padding on the concrete. The moon smiles down on them from above.


Someone sent me an invitation to this new shit called Catch 27, it's reminiscent of Friendster and MySpace, or BlackPlanet or whatever... U have to fill in some questions and answers, so I did... I'm sharing them here. Join my "pack" at Catch27 HERE.

Catch 27 Playlist


What I'm Wearing Now: White T-Shirt XXXL and Hello Kitty panties
Career High: Associate Editor of The Source Magazine
Worst Job: Associate Editor of The Source Magazine
Last Thing That Took My Breath Away: This indie documentary called INVENTOS: Hip Hop Cubano
My Last Meal, Like Ten Minutes Ago: Arroz con Pollo (I pushed the Pollo to the side)
Fantasy Make Out: Nas
Living Human Beings I REALLY loathe: Evil ones
Kindest Thing I've Ever Done: Given money to the homeless and hungry

Confession of My Dangerous Mind: I'm smarter than most people, I've read more books than they have at the library, and my milkshake's better than yours.

Sin I'd Like to Try: Something slothy and lusty, but I won't, I'll let she who's without sin cast the first stone.

Itch List (who are U itching to meet?)

10 Things I Want in a Catch:
1) Brilliance
2) Perseverance
3) Masculinity
4) Tattoos
5) Life-long love for Hip Hop Culture
6) Sensuality
7) A good appetite
8) Someone with a hard-knock life
9) Industry/In-the-Streets lifestyle
10) A Beautiful Visage (that's your face)

Deal-Breaker: Too many baby mamas

Crap That REALLY Screws With My Head: Lying when you don't have to

Most Hideously Humiliating Social Moment: That I've been home for damn near a year straight without going out

I'd Like My Catch to Earn: $57,000

How I Lost It: Long story

Gigantor Social Fear: None

My Fantasy Band: Tragedy Khadafi, Thirstin Howl III, Trunks, Steele/Smif-N-Wessun, DJ Hi-Tek, & Roc Raida

I guess file this under shameless self-promo again, I also sent a quote in for a catch-all piece for SOHH.com about Online Hip Hop Journalism... None of it got printed, so guess what? I'm finta print it now, right here!

"In 1996 I began working on grassroots marketing and viral PR for Saafir's "The Hit List" campaign, creating my first AOL account and joining the millions of world citizens online; and as "MiraJuana" I began to build a list of contacts and fans that is now 1,500,000 plus. Reporting daily news for Platform.net and pitching to 360HipHop.com and Urban Box Office Dot Net was my trial by fire - the path for a college dropout and former gang member & drug dealer to rise to editorships at STRESS, Complex Magazine and The Source sans a journalism degree; joining the ranks of stellar journalists like Jon Caramanica, Joseph "Jazzbo" Patel, kris ex, Davey D, Wendy Day, and others of their ilk whose online presence paved the way for their greatness. Posting dozens of times per day on Urban Expose Dot Com earned me write-ups in the Village Voice - and prepared me for the 2005 launch of my blog, http://pyramids2projects.blogspot.com. Face the facts...there is no digital divide, and Hip Hop isn't dead - the global, online Hip Hop community is BILLIONS strong, and we've got the internets going nuts."

Finally, there's talk of one of the homies filming me tomorrow for a documentary about sneakers. With my folkerellies @ MixtapeInc.com hard at work getting their documentary fully funded, which will enable me to record my voiceover/narration for the flick, and this latest development; your girl is about to pass up almost-famous and infamous status and go for the real thing. I told ya'll fools David Banner had me running, and I've been walking in my Chanclas como Jesus all over L.A. county. Spent the other night breaking at the Battle of the Year concert with the homies Risky and Bas-1 from Style Elements, Zulu King Supreme Alien Ness, E-Z Rock from Rock Steady, and myself; I got applause when I came out of the circle so I must've really rocked shit hard. Now get this, I finally got hooked back up with the old-school homeskillet BIG CUERVO from PRZ; and he's a personal trainer now. Let me get this gut flat while I keep this booty fat; and you'll be seeing that Hip Hop tattoo in King Magazine before you know it. I'm thinking of starting a B-Girl calendar/magazine/pinup club a'la Riot Girls & Suicide Girls featuring scantily-clad yet tasteful shots of stylish/profilish B-Girls like myself replete with tats, crazy hair, illy gear, and of course...sneakers/kicks. With some low-riders thrown in for good measure. I've got my boy shorts on deck, thighs thick as hell, and now I have my own personal gangsta trainer? On like burnt popcorn.

And buck that - I'm still a feminist; and please believe if anyone ever approached me in the club on some "wait til U see my dick, bitch..." they'd get crowned with every bottle behind the bar, and touched by every piece of furniture in the spot, twice. Don't get it twisted, even Killafornia feminista/jornalistas got tools.

I love this game.

- Nunya Biznet a/k/a Miranda Jane

p.s. Somebody asked what I've been listening to lately, so I'm currently bumpin' the Delfonics greatest hits double LP, Lil Bow Wow f/ Ciara "Like U" (serious...one of my favorite songs in a long time), "Ape Somethin'" by Lord Littles/Tragedy Khadafi from the Reloaded soundtrack, and the audiobook version of "Fingerprints of the Gods".

August 22, 2005


Yes, Yes. My folks & fam-lay have been industrious and studious of late; and there's mad El Producto in the screets to show for it. Whether U buy your shit online at www.sandboxautomatic.com, or in NY or LA at Fat Beats, or in the Bay at Amoeba Music; or from a flea market, swap meet, yard sale, or wherever the fuck...I'm trying to explain that there's some selections which need to be made...not now but RIGHT NOW!

Support. Good money in, good music out. Good music in, good money out. It's all real, regal, legal and equal. They said Hip Hop was dead; but these hoes're just skerrred.

Buck that!