Venice Beach California.

I found him on the Board Walk, so I named him Ghost Shadow. I found this flyer but  he wasnt too sure it was him, so we just hung out for a night, then I returned him. He needed some space. I called the number on the poster, and asked if there was a reward as a joke, and the dude-bro said “sure…”

I gave him back for free obviously, unscathed and full of cat nip, and it actually turns out he lived on the ground floor of my building.

90291 till infinity…

Pashupati. River-side in Nepal. The smoke filled the morning air as multiple human bodies burnt beneath stacks of flowers, hay, and wood on the stone banks. Smoldering ashes and unburnt larger remains swept into the flowing river below. A continuation of an unbroken journey everlasting. BABA WHITE BOY is one of a group there, who every morning, in a reflection of death, life and impermanence, cover their entire bodies in fresh human ashes and river water.

He also charged me the equivalent of 10 bucks for a few flicks. Savage.

On a run through Cuba with Aceyalone. We were shooting in this local bar, when I stepped outside to get out of the shot. I saw this beautiful little girl in her school uniform hustling down the street. I imagined at first she was bringing her little brother one, but the second I asked if I could take her picture she looked incredibly guilty. And once I started popping off, the neighbors stared yelling at her, and teasing her in Spanish for something I can only imagine was about two ice cream cones in a communist state…but probably not. The people there are fucking amazing, so warm and open hearted, and about living in a present moment, content.  They show so much love, especially when they find out your from Nueva York. People always say it’s so sad how Cuba’s going to go to shit after Castro dies. I think thats so racist, everyone there is too ill to let that happen.  Fuck off, viva la revolution.

“At the end of the day,day my momma told me don’t let no one break me let no one break me
At end of the day, day, nobody, nobody, ever could stop me ever could stop me
At the end of the day, day you can’t regret it if you were trying if you were trying
At the end of the day I’m walking with a heart of a lion…”

Mandela. South Africa. I was on a World-Wide run with Pharrell. We found ourselves somehow inside the Mandela Compound in Johannesburg. The security was beyond anything I had ever experienced before, but once we got inside the walls,  and through the checks, and past the gigantic guns it was an awesome atmosphere of complete comfort. Amidst the gorgeous rose gardens, African art, and precious grandchildren running around barefoot,  I remember sharing a brief moment with P. It was a glance of humble disbelief, and a shared sense of being in the right place at the right time, and knowing it.  Nelson was relaxed, full of light, and kept saying what an idiot politician George W was…

He could then, of course, recognize a sense of our American shame, so added how he liked George W. personally. He told us the first thing Bush asked Mandela when they met was if he wanted to do a shot of whiskey with him…God Bless America.

Leimert Park, California. We were shooting a video for Aceyalone, and I was walking towards Project Blowd, up Crenshaw Blvd. I saw this guy standing by the park facing traffic and asked if I could snap a few off. He looked at me somewhat confused, agreed, and then waited a moment and said, “he does though nigga, I’m living proof…” Great moment.

My first official music video was for Aceyalone’s “I Think.” I was fucking geeked just to meet him. He came up to the Cal Arts film studios and we shot in a few hours. I remember once it was edited and colored I drove down to Project Blowed on a Thursday night and gave him the video on a 3/4 tape. We played it on the projection screen. I was so nervous. A young white boy in the hardest most legitimately judgmental spot in LA. Once it was over, everyone chanted “again” and we played it again. Afterwards, he walked me out to the trunk of his Impala and gave me an old Freestyle Fellowship poster and a handful of “Mic Check” stickers…and to me, I had arrived. 16 Years later we’re still smoking together at Project Blowed.