Monthly Archives: March 2008

randomness #43

realization: since moving to new york, choreography “comes” to me most frequently on the train. i’ve noticed that i am able to focus more while blasting music, blocking out bums, black kids, and bad weaves that were sent to destroy my soul (the devil is alive!…anyway…). i’ve overcome my self-proclaimed “choreography block” and opened the floodgates. today, i went into the studio with andre…and he learned what i’m working on for one of my favorite songs of the moment, madonna’s “4 minutes” featuring justin timberlake. good times. twas VERY productive and i’m really excited to get a few dancers on board and film the routine. i should be able to have video online shortly. still exploring the endless possibilities for angles, positioning, lighting, etc. again…all VERY exciting. in addition to this song, there are about 5 others that i’m dying to choreograph and film. biggest forseeable challenge: male dancers. boo. i’ll cross that bridge when i get there….for now? off to read and workout. more to come…..


a walk down memory lane…to the toilet.

so…last night, andre and i spent the evening looking at ooooooold dance videos. i found a tape of gruvment’s first competition from 43 years ago.


though we were untrained, we were insanely precise and…”together”. i’m sure rehearsing 9 days a week had something to do with it. we were 15-17 at the time, and rehearsed in school hallways, mall parking lots, crosswalks, school auditoriums, exercise rooms, back yards, kitchens, garages, cramped dens, food courts, emergency rooms, and abortion clinics. ANYWHERE. at the time, we didn’t think we’d need jazz and ballet training to be successful…we thought our love for dance would be enough to help us make it. like uninformed kids today, we thought that we could take a few classes and end up on stage with janet. ha!

 i also found random rehearsal videos, where i worked on bits of incomplete choreography. observing my creative process from two to three years ago is quite inspiring. then, my focus was unmatched. my dedication unwavering. i hadn’t been exposed to the real world of dancing and was still fearless; enviably confident in my ability. oh, to be young again.

…the memories are countless. and old videos are VERY humbling. inded. but what’s important is what i did AFTER we watched these videos. after taking a trip to mcdonalds for some good ol’ nuggets ‘n fries, alex spent the night vomiting up pink, uncooked “chicken”. GOOD FUCKIN’ TIMES. shout out to De’quandelay-Na’Shaw’n who did his thing on the deep fryer. YOU, sir, are yet another demonstration of my pro-abortion stance. fuck you very much.

ck comes into town tomorrow. dance. tours of the city. club. good times.

off to have a semi-produtive day before work.



shug avery pee.

it’s 6:08.


 do you know where you children are?

that damn picture could dry up the wettest vagina in the world. that man, R. Kelly the teenage rapist, makes me want to fuck a girl. it’s THAT serious. i just don’t see what any woman sees in that slob of a man. his photo and sex tape should be shown during sex education classes…as a reason for abstinence…and what COULD happen to fast ass teenage girls. (vomit sound)


sigh. just felt like putting that out into the universe. i feel much better now. thank you kyoko.

oh well. off to roam union square.


lazy saturday…

its just after two and here i sit on computer #02 in the new york public library. we shall not go into why i’m not writing this from MY OWN FUCKING COMPUTER (which is sitting on the floor in so-and-so’s friend’s living  room, unplugged. helping nobody) at least not right now. THAT saga is a blog series in itself. every week my love for the never-ending free…ness that is the public library system grows a little more…kind of like the circumference of diddy’s well-worn boogina. aside from the fact that some of the people here smell like goatsex and homelessness, the new york and brooklyn libraries have supplied me with several great FREE dvd’s within the past few weeks:

malcom x (the only-est 8 hour movie i’ll EVER watch repeatedly).


 a huey p newton story (an amazing one-man show written by and featuring everybody’s favorite high yeller negro Robert Guenveur Smith)


it tells the story and inner thoughts of black panther founder, huey p newton. very insightful. pretty effing amazing.

malcolm x: death of a prophet

pretty good. from the 70’s (i think). features morgan freeman. the budget was somewhere around $5.34. obviously. informative though. this was clearly before morgan ran out of good scripts and started playing the same character in every movie (like sammy jackson and laurence fishburne). just another look into the life of malcolm, the current object of my fascination.

new york city ballet workout.

because i haven’t danced in 32 years and need to get right again. this dvd is pretty damn intense. more intense than sex. while on viagra and coke….from what i hear….

…you get the point. thousands of free movies, videos, and books…mine for the borrowing. i heard that the branches in harlem and the bronx loan out hoodrats on two-for-one deals on friday afternoons. gonnoherpamydia is free. and thanks to my beloved dvd burner and unused stack of blank DVD’s, my collection grows by the week. hooray for public libraries.

random: old people who curse more than i do make me smile. they bring joy to my life in ways only zebra cakes are able to do. at this exact moment this prehistoric broad who apparently proofread the declaration of independence is beside me on the computer, attempting to log into her gmail account, but cant remember her password. after a few tries she tells la’shaniquanetta (my assumed name for the token black library employee) the computer must be broken…and proceeds to lay her completely out…because she can’t remember her password. she called her a “Nog.” i don’t know what it means, but i’m PRETTY sure it’s racist. who doesn’t love a racist, forgetful, unapolagetic old witch? la’shaniquanetta walked away. i squeezed my buttcheeks to avoid shitting my pants. i love this shit.

 anywho, i am off to walk these mean ass psycho-filled streets of new yawk with a new friend. a supercool, dope ass individual who also uprooted from down south and followed the north star to freedom in new york.  good times ahead, i’m sure.

in celebration of my survival through yet another insane week…i think i’ll go throw pennies at a few pigeons. sounds like fun to me.

love. peace. cavity searches.

have a good one.



genius loves company.

i came across this quote from fellow genius miss jack davey, one-half of my current musical obsession, j*davey.

can ur feelings be wrong ?
hypothetically speaking , when u break up with someone for ur own personal reasons (the “it’s not u , it’s me” thing without being so situation comedy abt it) & they tell u that “ur reasons are bullshit” , is that even possible ? how & where do u find the nerve to call someone else’s personal emotional consciousness “bullshit” ? i guess when ur the one doing the breaking up ur automatically the bad guy . dragged thru the proverbial mud by the person who called ur honesty & ur feelings “bullshit” . just wondering , cuz maybe i missed something . i was told to never apologize for how i feel . but um , thank god this is only hypothetical…

spotted on her blog:

this spoke to me in ways i’m sure she’ll never know. how unfortunate that when that “it’s not you, its me” scenario comes to life, sincerity is poorly received and often met with a strong, heartfelt FUCK YOU!

le sigh.

on another note, if you’re not up on j*davey, you probably  weren’t supposed to be born.

Check them out:

J*Davey on Imeem

J*Davey on myspace

J*Davey dot com


welcome, dammit!

hey my man, what it look like?

welcome to mind mind, motherfuckers. me llamo alex. when i refer to myself in the third person, i may call myself chris.alexander. that’s my when-i’m-famous name. my i’m-so-much-better-than-you-i-need-TWO-damn-names name. chris.alexander is my online alter-ego, the gregarious, loud, disrespectful, hoodrat murkin’ black boy so many people know and love. i hate cauliflower and carrots. i’m currently located in a war-zone in brooklyn known as the Heights of Crown, by way of virginia. i actually think “by way of” is a pretty dumb phrase, but that’s what people say, so fuck it. i moved to this nutjob-filled city to dance, grow the hell up, explore (in every sense of the word) and begin my path to world domination,  in whatever avenue i choose. i eat red meat and that swine and sometimes sleep with my eyes open. i’m a bookwhore and a music junkie. bookstores (barnes and noble, not that god-awful borders) are my favorite place in the world. and i fuck on the first date….not really…i kid, i kid.

things like this:

bring me endless joy. i’m a bit of a jerk when i want to be. sue me. 

i don’t have a real format to speak of…so i can’t really classify this as yet another celebrity blog, gossip blog, or anything of the sort. i can’t say anything about the latest hoodrat-turned quasi-celebrity to have 3 kids by 5 different losers that hasn’t been said on fifty-leven other blogs. i just wanted/needed another place to ramble. basically, through reading this blog, you’ll see the world the way i see it…through my rantings, vicious love-filled attacks, verbal throatchops, recommendations, and praise you will come to learn what makes me tick, smile, and/or vomit. i aim to share my unique brand of humor with the masses…crushing idiots, hoodrats, dickfaces, and self-proclaimed niggers in the process.

this is my first non-myspace blog, so every post will be a learning experience. i am currently toying with all the features the nice white people on the testimonials page praised so much, so expect frequent changes as i figure out what i like, dislike, and despise, graphically.

here’s what i was just about to write: “i am the hardest person to offend so please speak freely here…”. but that’s a lie. and i can’t start off on the wrong foot, now can i? i figure this is where i should lay down the ground rules around here.

1. this is an ashanti-free zone.

my antidrug.

my anti-drug.

this “woman” (if she can even biologically be considered that) destroys my soul kind of in the same way a violent repulsion for soap, shampoo, and food not found in dumpsters destroys T-Pain’s “soul”. she is the embodiment of nontalent, and needs to be destroyed. her mother should have been neutered (as opposed to spayed)…and is yet another example of my pro-abortion stance…more on this later…she’s a goddamn succubus and i’ll pay five pesos to the first person to deliver her testicles to me. so keep her name to a minimum unless prefaced by “ooooooh, alex, i’ve discovered a way to de-fang that beast…” or something equally intriguing. thanks.

2. know that T-Pain, BET,  soulja boy, r. kelly and akon are all synonyms for fucking horrible, wretched abomination, that which causes blindness/deafness, tumor, busted condom or failed abortion…atleast on these pages.

3. coonery is cause for immediate extermination.


 other than that…anything goes here (except positive commentary on anyone mentioned in #1 or #2). expect the unexpected. curse out loud. throatchop the next hoodrat you see for me. do it till you’re satisfied. and so forth.

again, welcome to my world. let’s get acquainted with each other…show me your’s and i’ll show you mine…shit like that.

thanks for stopping by, dammit.

love, peace, and death to ashanti.