INCREASE-DECREASE

Oh, and October.

Sike, naw.

I’m totally intrigued by words that sound the same (and are spelled the same) but have different meanings, also known as homonyms. (Thank me later for your English lesson.)

Like “stalk” which is the root part of a plant, or “stalk” like you crazy stalker stop following me, i.e. Sting and the whole, “I’ll be watching you” bit. Same word. Different meaning.

So what about March…and march.

We never even think of month names as being regular words. More like ancient ascriptions that no one dare question. Not to mention none of the month names are homonyms. Except one. March.

The definition for march: v. to walk forward in a stately deliberate manner (from Marchier which means to tread)

The definition of March: n. third month of the year (from the planet Mars)

What do treading and Mars have to do with each other, you ask? I have no idea. I got nothing. Not even a little bit. Totally reaching.

But I do know that March, for us east coast kids, is the month of transition. The month between winter and spring, where the snow melts, and the ground starts to soften again. Its when you don’t mind suffering a slight sniffle in exchange for a long sleeve t-shirt and a jacket. It’s so worth it. Where seasonal depressives poke their heads out of their holes, their lips curling to a grin. For many of us, March is the month things start to change and move “forward in a stately, deliberate manner.”

So though this post is all one big smoke show you’re reading today, that, by the way, I’m pretty proud of, the point should still be taken that it can’t hurt to turn the month of March…into a verb.

If that makes any sense.

Let’s not march…let’s March! (Or both.)

note: youtrypostingeverydayandseeifyoucanmakeeverypostdope. shitplussometimeswackisgenius. watch. youllsee.

I (Reynolds) took a trip up to Middletown, Connecticut yesterday to perform at Wesleyan University. “Middletown” must indeed be short for “Middle-of-nowhere-town.” This place is like 45 minutes away (in no apparent direction) from New Haven, which by the way is affectionately referred to as “Pistol wavin’ New Haven” (people love to nickname hoods, no matter how small and unhood-like they may be.)

Anyway, consistent with my usual travel habits, I was absolutely starving when I got to the hotel, and had already come to grips with the fact that I would most likely be choking down over-fried chicken tenders from the school dining hall. Would’ve been cool, strictly for nostalgia, but it definitely wasn’t my preferred choice.

Then it happened. Uncanny irony. My host says, “We have an amazing Jamaican restaurant. It’s really good. Really.”

(Didn’t care that she assumed I wanted Jamaican food. Nope. Not important.)

“Really? On the side of mountain? GOOD Jamaican food?”

I’ll be damned if she wasn’t right. Amazing food. Pattie’s Palace. It was booming with people ordering dumplings and jerk whatevers, oxtail, and fish they couldn’t quite pronounce. Unbelievable bizarro-world moment. But also a valuable moment. A testament to the fact that there is a market and an audience for everyone and everything.

Beef patties on the side of a mountain inspired the hell out of me.

Reynolds

PS- If yall are wondering where Griffin is, he’s preparing something special for yall. Stirring the ol’ movement stew. Gotta get it right. You’ll hear from him soon. And when you do…Boomshakalaka!

Period.

Dear New York,

You are something. You woo us with your summer fun, your free concerts, and cuban corn stands, your pretty people, and cool ass ugly people, who are, in fact, pretty people, your stoops and house parties, and massive park gatherings…then you take a big dump on our heads with your snow. It’s all a trick.

We are Boomshakalakians. We like awesome. And well, New York, you’re just not awesome in the winter.

How do you expect women to wear heels? What about men, we can’t maintain our cool faces with all this snow suffocating us (snow is like God beating out the dusty doormat of heaven.) And what about the neighbors who shovel in front of their houses, but toss the snow in front of mine. If we all shovel and toss the snow in the street, we could actually walk down the sidewalk. Just a thought. But it’s not their fault. Its yours, New York. Your snow clouds their ability to think logically. Makes them dumb.

I bet you like it. I bet you like to slow us all down. Quiet. Peaceful. Prettier than usual. You’re a jerk like that. Get off on it all, because you know, nobody is leaving. Nobody is taking this snow day to pack up and say good-bye to you. Nobody. We’re all just pouting, and waiting for you to stop showing us your frigid butt cheeks, and show us that pretty sunshiny face again.

So go ahead and bring it on. Just wanted you know…not cool, New York. Not cool.

Sincerely,

Jasons

PS: We know you’re a Boomshakalakian deep down in your heart. You can’t fool us.

Why is it, that whenever you forget your password to whatever you have passwords for on the internet, and you click the “forgot my password” tab, they send you a new password?

But…I want the old one. That’s why I told you I forgot it. So that you could remind me of what it was. Not erase it!

And, uh, poetry people in the place to be…uh, not as awesome. But if you dig poems and you dig partying then welcome to your heaven on earth.

I (Reynolds) will be there saying something like, Boomshakalaka. Feel free to say the same when you see me.

What if we, the Jasons, met in elementary school instead of college? Back when we were six, and being imaginative was our ONLY occupation. And being creative was our ONLY obligation. And being crazy, and daring, and foolish was all attributed to the genius in being young.

That six year old still surfaces. Capes still substitute as wings. Imaginary friends are still not imaginary.

But bills…

(Sigh)

*cues clap machine

Yoooooo, we are BACK! That’s right. Back! back from where you ask? Well, back from Lazytown, that’s where. Where’s Lazytown? Lazytown is where life happens. It’s close to Normalville and we all know what happens in Normalville…normal stuff. What’s wrong with normal stuff? Uh…everything. Abnormality has been the juice that has fueled us thus far. It’s pretty much our batterypack. But like everyone, we get tired. And discouraged. and bogged down by it all. But…

We’re back.

Took some time to reevaluate and figure out a way to be better, do better, look better (oh yeah) and work better so that our abnormality and our previous works arent squandered away and locked in some ancient Google chest to be discovered 100 years from now by some interent pirate searching for “cool things of the 2000’s.”

So here is our pledge. Check this dumb site every single day. It will be updated. EVERYSINGLEDAY.

And we have some realllly dope stuff coming soon. Like a whole new movement. We’ll need your help to make walk. But get ready!

R&G- Boomshakalakians

Shout out to Terrence Cunningham! This is gonna be major…whoa.