Bright Baek: Art and Nightmares

You wanna hear a joke

  Once when I was 19 years old, my ex girlfriend's friend's boyfriend asked me if I'd like to hear a joke. Sure, I'm always up for a good laugh. Prior to the joke, the "comedian" had been a little apprehensive when speaking to me. His handshakes were neither firm nor crisp. He never looked me in the eye. EVER.  So after a night of drinking (I was drinking illegally) liquid courage was in full force. He and I talked about growing up and realized how much we had in common. He being white and I black, shared a kinship that poor Americans can readily identify with. We were under dogs that America swept under the rug because they didn't want us. There were hugs and laughter erupted uncontrollably and infused the apartment. Then he went on the realization that one's ethnicity shouldn't matter. At the time I agreed with him because ideally (key word being ideally) ethnicity shouldn't matter how you treat a fellow human being. Because to not see my ethnicity you undermine my experience as a person of color. So when he asked me if I wanted to hear a joke naturally I wanted to continue to connect and build camaraderie. I had no idea he would go "there".

"You want to hear a joke?"
"Yeah, what you got for. It better be funny."
"You know what the NAACP stands for?
I drunkenly responded, "The NCAA?"
"The NAACP!"
"Oh yeah, it stands for The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People."
"No it doesn't"
"Wait did I mixed the As up?"
"It stands for the Nigger Association for the Advancement of Crazy Policies."

  My 19 year old self was appalled and immediately withdrew from whatever he had to say. Everything we had built for that short span was vaporized and I'd wish he had continued to be allusive. As a 19 year old kid I was not sure what to even say. I knew it was racist but I didn't understand how to explain it to him without sounding like "that angry black guy". After that and a few mildly racist jokes told to me by white dudes over the years I have learned to just say no to jokes. Without fail a nondescript white guy in a bar wants to talk about race relation and then proceeds to tell a racist joke. There are always signs that the joke is going to racist. If said white guy has a smirk on his face or is looking around to see who is around to hear him, he is more than likely going to tell you a racist joke.

  When at a party, you want to stay way from drunk white dudes that are not your friends. These are the guys that are typically the racist joke soothsayers. The other night this guy says to me, I truly believe black people are genetically better at sports than other people. Never mind that they probably worked their asses off to get to the point of world class athlete. Never mind the socio-economic implication and some people of color. Sometimes sports are the only way out of their situation. Nope. Black people, especially black Americans are better equipped to play sports because of genetics. Let's just say this is true, slave owners bred Africans to be strong slaves. But you know, it's just a hypothetical.

  Ok so you need another example? I got you! Back in January I was at a bar in the wee hours of the morning. Myself and a group of white guys were all talking about dumb shit. This one guy asked if I wanted to hear a joke. I replied no thanks. To which he replied don't worry it's not about black people. Turns out it was racist towards asian people but he used all people of color as part of the joke. I let him know that I don't care if the joke is not directed toward black people, racist jokes are not cool. After I expressed my distaste for his style of comedy he in the word of Puffy Daddy "proceeded to give me what I need."

"Why don't black people like going into the water?"
"Man, what the fuck?!"
"You're not going to fool us with that again. Get it?! Slave ships and slaves."

I'm done white Jesus, take the wheel.
 

Danny Green

Danny Green

Behind the Scenes of what I can remember

I didn't take this Photo. Somebody gets the credit here________
Me, Joe with the red glasses, Saul Goode, Pistol Pete and if you squint Black Moss

  I told my co worker that I was going to a party slash video shoot last weekend. She looked at me as if to say "what the fuck does that entail?". She was right. What does that even mean? It's either a party or a video shoot. Or a video shoot that looks like a party but not really because nobody is drunk. Hell, I don't consider it a party until somebody purposely breaks shit. Not in a party foul kind of way but breaks shit with authority.

  

I had to go because for one, I was down the street from his house and two I have a man crush on the rapper Saul Goode a third of the rap trio (just in case you don't understand a third) Part Time Cooks. Ok, so maybe the reason is more of the latter. It was also a belated  birthday shindig for Saul that started at 12 in the afternoon. I don't know about you but I don't trust people that start parties around 12. Makes me feel like they are financially stable. As it relates to time, I'm stereotypically black. My black ass showed up six hours later because ain't nobody got time for 12 p.m. starts.

I took this picture.

I walked in to a portrait of a pink, four eyed Lebron James. The creepy thing wasn't that he was pink or that he seemed to be hiding behind the air conditioner. But that whoever drew him gave an accurate depiction of his hairline. Damn Lebron! Just go ahead and join the bald headed club why dontcha! Still the scene at Saul's apartment was way to clean for there to have been a party. Then I walked upstairs to the turn up.  I knew it was turnt because my homegirl was passed out on the bed. When I went to say hi she gave me the fingers. I think she might have mumbled turn up as well. Not exactly sure though.

I walked out onto the rooftop and I met the second third of Part Time Cooks, Black Moss. He is probably the one dude outside of the rapper Common that vaguely looks like me. Black Moss introduced himself to me as Blessing. Which went something like this:

"What's up brotha, I'm Reggie."

"How are you? Oh yeah, I think we've met before. Blessing, Blessing." 

I wasn't sure if he was greeting me or telling me his name. I don't think of myself as a blessing to people but he definitely boosted my self-esteem. It didn't help that he was cooler than E Mutha Fucka. Later on someone asked if I had seen Blessing and I turned to a white guy (who had also heard the question and whose name was actually Guy) and asked if he was Blessing.

It was a full fledged roof top party complete with  DJ Scotty Seoul and people dressed in green. It must have been St. Patrick's day or I was kinda drunk. The Final third of Part Time Cooks was Joe Rollins climbing up a ladder to help the director of the video Jake Hanus. The crowd on the roof gasp and he let out an "oh shit!" as he almost fell off the ladder. Let's just say if he would have fell he would have died really bad. 

  

After a couple of hours I found myself standing in front of the camera next to Saul Goode rapping backwards and pouring out what in my mind was champaign. You know, for the dead homies and to relive a 90's rap video. Joe Rollins the man that cheated death, was taking off his clothes behind us. It wasn't an Atlanta strip club but hell, it was cool for the video. The next thing I know Saul was lost in the crowd of people behind him. While shirts, hats and Korean money (bills and coins) were flying around. It was chaos and it hurt.

At the end of the night wind blew a ten thousand dollar camera light and broke while an Australian kid was getting his hair buzzed and just random shit that didn't make sense. 

By the way Saul, if you or your roommate is reading this, What the fuck is Propofol? Isn't that the shit that killed the leader of the Jackson Five? And why is it censoring Japanese anime? I'm all about pixelation. 

Cooking at Somos

Cooking at Somos

Part Time Cooks at Somos

  Have you ever been to a hip hop show where they served the audience milk and cookies? Well established rappers are not serving you food no matter how much money you spent on tickets to see them. Shit you’re not getting gum let alone a tasty snack while you throw your mutha fuckin hands in the air. The collective known as Part Time Cooks are not only superb lyricists but they are mind readers. They know what makes the audience vibe and that you really want to partake in a childhood delicacy like milk and cookies.

Not only am I dry snitching, i'm lat on this blog!

  Despite the fact that I’m dry snitching on myself, I was happy to finally put my boy Zach onto something hella dope.  Because Zach by the way, is like a walking encyclopedia on shit that you should be and will be listening to. It’s like showing a god how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “ Oh, you ain't up peanut butter and jelly? Let me put you on game you all powerful being.” 

  

  There are a lot of Korean nationals that fancy I look like a famous black man. Obama (I’m not nearly as good looking), Usher (if only I had a hit like Yeah) and Black Moss. To be perfectly honest we do kinda look similar. I mean we both are around the same height. We both have little to no hair and we both have massive beards. One can only imagine how many people before and after the show were coming up to me like, dude you were so dope! I died a little bit inside because I couldn’t take the credit for being an excellent rhyme smith.

  

  The thing that stood out to me was how in sync the part time cooks were. They each owned their roles. Similar to a big three in basketball. They each could be LeBron or Wade or Bosh when need be. Not one of them overstepped their boundary. Even when Saul Goode, the shortest out of the group is standing on a chair leading the audience into a smooth melodic tune. Which leads us to their single No Where But Up. 

  

  The melody is so good I would love to have sex to it. I’m not even sure if people still have sex to music. Someone on twitter said no one does. The problem is I was raised on hip hop and my ear is tuned into listening to lyrics. I can’t help it! What I look like hitting it doggy style and singing every syllable to Black Moss or Saul’s verse. I would climax while singing Joe Rollins hook “But I’m so dooownnnnn.” But it would be in the literal sense because in fact I came. Indeed I have related Part Time Cooks to sex. But not any kind a sex. Beautiful decadent sex! The kind that starts out as love making and ends up becoming a fantabulous porno. Plus you get milll and freaking cookies!

Don’t trip and download Part Time Cooks newest single 

No Where But Up

http://www.mediafire.com/download/8fke2c8eg1ap9dc/Part+Time+Cooks+Nowhere+But+Up.mp3

Hit em up on FaceBook and Twitter

https://www.facebook.com/parttime.cooks?fref=ts

@parttimecooks

Do you remember the time....

  

   One of the most terrifying situations a young person can find themselves in, is their first sexual encounter. Because you're not exactly sure what goes where. Reminiscing on my the early days of my porn appreciation, which probably started when I was 12, I couldn't understand the concept of the missionary position. I couldn't fathom how it actually worked. Doggy style, girl on top and Beyonce's surfboard were all easy concepts to understand. From my 12 year old mind and from practicing on my pillow (no pillows were harm in my scientific experiment), I thought, "my 12 year old cock is way too short for missionary."

   My first sexual encounter (actual intercourse) was prom night, I was 18 years old and full of Zima wine coolers. I was tipsy. Maybe the operative word should be drunk. From...Zima...wine...coolers. Insert facepalm to my 18 year old self. Anyway, someone's parents decided that it was cool for a group of teenage kids to come to their house and chill after prom was over. Maybe it was apparent that his daughter had the hots for a young negro but I definitely was the only male in the house that got the "DON'T FUCK WITH MY DAUGHTER BECAUSE I GOT A SHOTGUN" speech. Or because by this point I was the only guy remaining in his house. That is beyond the point.

   Somehow we outlasted her parents. She put a condom in my hand and I followed her to the room. I was scared as fuck son! I think that I might have lied on my dick and told her that I'd had sex before. But I hadn't. And all I could think about was "please, sweet baby jesus, don't let me come fast and NO MISSIONARY! Amen and Amen." My skepticism about an all powerful god that watches over all of us began on that late night, early morning in April. The very thing I asked not to recieve I recieved it. FUCK!

   What I found was that my 18 year old penis had grown long enough to partake in some love on top aka missionary. I also found that the missionary position is a very weird position because you feel naked. Not the physically naked but a sort of vulnerability. This being my first time I wasn't really sure where to put my eyes. Should I look at her breast? Should I look down at the disappearing act that my penis did every time I entered her (not really sure if I should use the word entered)? That night was literally a sensory overload. I was scared but it felt good. It was the first time having sex and and the first time I was forced to look into someone else's eyes. I would later learn that the eyes tell a fascinating story. The eyebrows help tell that story as well. Because it's kinda hard to tell a person's expression if they don't have any eyebrows.

   You would think that 18 year old me would be more petrified of not performing like a porn star. To be fair that scared me as well. Not being big enough also scared me but looking into someone's eyes was I don't know...awkwardly good? Looking into someone's eyes can be intensely enjoyable as a 31 year old man. Now, I don't look away because I hope my eyes tell you something that I might be unwilling to divulge. I hope my eyes are inviting.