"If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead and rotten either write something worth reading or do things worth the writing." -Benjamin Franklin

The single, greatest issue of Frank magazine ever published is about to be released and I need you to make every effort to go out and get it. (Have it delivered.)  Of course, I’m not just saying that because I’m in the aforementioned issue of Frank. (Claim bomb!) I would be saying that it is the greatest issue of Frank that I have ever seen, anyway.  Enter the 36^th chapter of Frank and order your subscription today, friends. The best $12 that you’ll spend on anything that isn’t drug related and paper-based this year.

I guess here is the part that I tell you that everybody’s favorite stylist was the guest curator for a one of a kind naked girl extravaganza. I’m sure that you would have figured that out on your own because my sister’s real secret to styling is to keep everybody in as little clothing as possible. [Cut to Lysa saying, “take off all your clothes… Hold this plunger… Ok, we’re ready for the album cover.’] Lysa isn’t just preaching like a hypocrite, though. (I thought that I already told ya'll about capitalizing on iconography?) In this issue of Frank my sister is naked on every other page. The interview was a nice touch though because it explains everything.

Frank is a multiracial cross between High Times, Playboy, The Source, and Jet –only smaller.  There are two Japanese girls, one Latina hottie, and even a clown showing a little titty in the 36^th installment of Frank Magazine. So to be blessed like that you think that it would have taken lawyers to broker a deal of this magnitude? You’d be wrong. About eight years ago I was kicking it with Mike and “Steve” Malbon and I expressed an interest in writing for Frank because they own it. Mike was like “yeah, I want to do something with your sister” or some other disrespectful shit like that. Steve just stood there rolling a blunt.

Anyway I floated the idea of writing an article on her, but to be honest with you, I would do a poor job. I think that I must have known that going in because I don’t think that I actually submitting anything for publication. What did happen is we all got seriously blowed up in the club that night. Mike kept going on and on about how he could somehow have Lysa affiliated with the magazine. (I already thought that she was, honestly –and then I reconsidered in my reply.) I think this happened a little later than that One World with Russell Simmons came out and I might have made the remark, “she’ll do it if you let her take it over” in between puffs.

Anyway, someone must have heard me say that at the party over there on the West Side back in the day because it just went down.

That’s the kind of shit I bring to the table. (Put me on. Check the wmv and pdf samples. Six figures for a creative genius.) And there you have it: when you couple creativity with a whole lot of brainpower it can sometimes look a little too easy.  Just about anybody thinks that they have the stuff that the genuine synergy yields when they stand so close.  The kid from Glen Cove has been shining since before he had bars on his shoulders and earned a couple of college degrees.  Once more, he did it when nobody saw him coming but even if you went head to head with Long Island BIG DIC chances are you'll be wiping your eyes.  Uneducated clowns swear that they’re the bee’s knees and fail to recognize that even strong chains won’t turn without gears or grease. I’m sorry but I can’t stand it when otherwise good planning goes completely to waste because of an avaricious pursuit of ulterior motives –unless they’re mine.

When I think of the trivialities of good faith tokens that could alleviate the flagrant fouls against hipster-dom, it makes me shudder to contemplate associations. Cats are out there really thinking like they could possibly fake this Renaissance that is clearly going down.  Does anyone out there really believe that hopping on and claim bombing your way to a brighter future is going to pay greater lifelong dividends over the classical study of art, literature, science and management?  Somebody should have told ya'll that nobody could stop The Bruzz because, if you clicked on the links in the preceding paragraph you'll realize that I not only study the classics, I put them into practice. I guess I wanted to share some of the underbelly of the freelance hipster grind with you because everything doesn’t always turn up sweet in that life either. If corporate America is impermanent then hipster America is like trying to build on air, or in this case, smoke. Some people would say that I constantly glorify it on my website, so let this stand as an example for the contrary argument that I am balanced. See, I cut back significantly.

The good part about all of this is, of course, that the whole Frank thing went off without a hitch though. It only took the better part of decade with those stoners over there in quarterly magazine land. (Someone really needs to tell them that they aren’t exactly destroying stereotypes of potheads across the globe by publishing a very small magazine –filled mainly with pictures, only four times a year.) I love those guys over there at Frank though. Mike and Steve Malbon, two white guys, have done a lot for the downtown black man of leisure.

Anytime you have U-God getting shout-outs in your advertisements for your appointment-only barbershop that happens to be open on Sundays, you’re making it happen. Anytime that your crew throws open-bar parties in the middle of the day in downtown lofts that nobody even really knows about unless you’re NYC official then you’re making it happen. Anytime that you make it happen while in the club making it happen then you’re definitely making it happen!  I won’t even get into the fact that they got the freshest fitted hats in the game right now. (It’s a good time to have paper. Speaking of paper, my mans Georgie at Frank’s Chop Shop told me that Frank just inked a deal with Bambú.) Mike and Steve made it pop off, and I really respect them for that.

Shout-outs to Irina Lazar, Francesco Clemente, Vanessa Salle, and Camellia Clouse!

We lost one of the greats the other day and I have been purposefully remiss in writing about it. It isn’t like Shawn Mortensen wasn’t one of my good friends, but the iconic photographer decided to take his own life. (At one point we split time on my sister's couch.  We shared many a philosophical moment as our lives were caught in crossroads and needing the assistance of others.)  My own personal philosophy prevents me from concurring in acts of suicide so let that be a warning to you should you decide to determine the timing of your departure from this world; I will not comply with the timing of my grief for you. Just like the loss of another old friend not more than two months ago, this one is deep. Shawn spent his last days in close contact with my brother who has a knack for getting people they help they need as far as rehabilitation is concerned.  It must have been pretty bad on Shawn in order to lose such hope because I've seen him overcome even more insurmountable odds.  I feel sort of numb to it all because of the proximity to the death of my friend Coleman Mellett so I won’t write too much about Shawn. I wrote that “we lost” Shawn because you know him too and if you’re reading this you know his work speaks for itself.

I had an insatiable thirst for knowledge about rap celebrities that I idolized from being trapped on a ship in complete isolation and when I got out of the Coast Guard I could always pick Shawn's brain.  He had worked with them all.  Shawn knew if they were for real, or just phony.  Shawn was one of the guys that you could kick it with all night, too.  He would match you drink for drink, and he wasn't leaving until all the good weed was smoked.  That's a guy's guy for you, right there.  Thinking about all of this shit is actually fucking me up right now and I know why I couldn't write anything when it happened.  When Lysa told me I was in total disbelief.  Part of me still is, and I keep thinking of silly stuff like the superstition that says this kind of thing happens in threes.  It's real dumb sounding, too.  I'm out here writing a blog about someone that I probably could have saved.  I'm not saying that my brother wasn't a good choice seeing as though they shared the same addiction and city of Los Angeles...  I don't even know what I'm saying, anymore.  Maybe I just wish that I had some more time with Shawn.  I know that it is totally selfish of me considering everything that must have transpired to even get to the point, but I can't help but think about it.

I borrowed some of his pictures for The Chronicles of Six because I'm trying to remember more of the good stuff about Shawn.  Whether you knew it or not, Shawn Mortensen probably provided the images that you associate with your favorite artists.  The man was probably the most published photographer of the musicians of Generation X.  Shawn was there (in NYC) when hip-hop started but he didn't just ride that wave.  Shawn crossed genres.  He hit all of the icons in his time and made them even more iconic.

Ghostface Killah, Ian Brown, Ice Cube, Wu-Tang Clan, Dr. Dre, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Mos Def, The Notorious B.I.G. (twice), Tupac (twice), John Lee Hooker, Eric Clapton and John Lee Hooker, and the Godfather of Soul James Brown are some of my favorites.  Click on Shawn's name above and find your own favorites.  I think that my friend probably took their picture, too. 

Shawn, I put on the Biggie Smalls in a celebration of your life homey.  We'll always share a love for Brooklyn's Finest and I always understood and forgave your love of Tupac.  I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings in your arguments about who was the bigger influence on the culture.  I'm willing to give all the points awarded for charisma over to you, my friend.  I'm going to miss you.

What can I say about April, other than spring? This time of year really speaks to me now that I’m not living in the land of perpetual summer anymore. The winter was especially cold for your boy. 2008 was great but we have to be honest with ourselves after a first quarter assessment of this year. Newer goals have to be set because the parameters are so official and constant.  I am fortunate enough to write that I have already achieved the pinnacle that I had imagined in my youth and the vision has finally shifted.

The latest development these days is that I still have a great job and I’m still single. I know that it really doesn’t make much sense, but that is exactly how it is going down. If this keeps up much longer, I’ll be living in Japan and holding down the Land of the Rising Sun. Stacking chips on a whole new level is what is going down in 2009, and everybody knows that you’ll definitely need a lot of paper if you want to live in Tokyo. And, yes, I want to live in Tokyo – I hear that they have nice precincts there.  Well I don't necessarily have to live there forever, but I think that a year or six would be nice.

I don’t think that it is much of a secret now that my next destination is the Far East. I have to seriously see one of those meditative gardens. My fascination could be getting the better of me, but I believe that I am destined to see where all of these Cherry Blossom trees came from. They better never let me get over there with a working Visa either, because then I know that I’m never coming back. Even though I don’t speak Japanese, I feel like I’m a fast learner and I will still roll the dice in a heartbeat.

The flowers are absolutely out of control. As you already know, I absolutely love flowers. Flowers are blooming all around despite the fact that it is still early in the season. I love it when the flowers bloom and fill the air with their fragrances of herbal fornication.  It just makes me want to get out there and stare them down while they are still here.  I won't even gather them anymore.  I believe that gathering them is a young person's game, but I'm free to gaze.  Just as spring follows winter, you cannot interrupt the natural order of things.  Yeah I'm totally rambling and not focused but I got you to look at all these flowers.

Dr. Poston would be proud.