Wu Tang Quotes

There have been so many times I felt like I've ended the conversation lately I've decided that if I had a Wu Tang name it'd be Threadkilla.

There is no ‘Aum’ without Indian dharmas, as there is no ‘Allah’ without Islam, nor ‘Pull-up!’ without UK Garage, or two hands coming together to form a W without Wu Tang. That is to say: You cannot have meaning without knowledge of the environment from which it stems.

Not enough people living in New York today have been punched in the face. They could use that lesson, though.

There should be a Stage IV of black identity—Unmitigated Blackness. I’m not sure what Unmitigated Blackness is, but whatever it is, it doesn’t sell. On the surface Unmitigated Blackness is a seeming unwillingness to succeed. It’s Donald Goines, Chester Himes, Abbey Lincoln, Marcus Garvey, Alfre Woodard, and the serious black actor. It’s Tiparillos, chitterlings, and a night in jail. It’s the crossover dribble and wearing house shoes outside. It’s “whereas” and “things of that nature.” It’s our beautiful hands and our fucked-up feet. Unmitigated Blackness is simply not giving a fuck. Clarence Cooper, Charlie Parker, Richard Pryor, Maya Deren, Sun Ra, Mizoguchi, Frida Kahlo, black-and-white Godard, Céline, Gong Li, David Hammons, Björk, and the Wu-Tang Clan in any of their hooded permutations. Unmitigated Blackness is essays passing for fiction. It’s the realization that there are no absolutes, except when there are. It’s the acceptance of contradiction not being a sin and a crime but a human frailty like split ends and libertarianism. Unmitigated Blackness is coming to the realization that as fucked up and meaningless as it all is, sometimes it’s the nihilism that makes life worth living. Sitting

Maureen O'Brien's Bakery Lingo: A Partial Glossary • 9 donuts - A shutout • 2 croissants - A full moon • 3 croissants - A ménage à trois • 4 bear claws - Full smokey • 2 bear claws - Half smokey • The last one of any item - The gift of the Magi • A baker's dozen of doughnut holes - a PG-13 • Anything in the unlikely quantity of 36 or a lot of something - A Wu-Tang • Blueberry muffin - Chubby Checker • Bran muffin - Warren G the regulator • Any customer who left no tip - A libertarian • Any customer who only tipped the coins from their change - A couch shaker • Any person who requested a substitution - Master and demander • Any person who requested TWO substitutions - Demander in chief • Any person who requested MORE than two substitutions - The new executive chef and finally.... • Any vegan customer - A Morrissey

If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, you are a leader. — JOHN QUINCY ADAMS

My boys and I find a corner booth and I play 'Can It Be All So Simple' because I'm feeling nostalgic for a very particular brand of Wu-Tang Clan, and this is it. One of those Wu songs that really isn't about anything other than the fact that none of us can be as we were when we were young. That a great deal of us have seen too much or heard too much or lived through too much to wrestle our innocence back from whatever cynicism or heartbreak has grown in its place.

In The Cradle of Erotica by A. Edwardes and R.E.L. Masters, we are told that during the Tang Dynasty, the Empress Wu Hu ruled China. She knew that sex and power were inexorably linked, and she decreed that government officials and visiting dignitaries must pay homage to her imperial highness by performing cunnilingus upon her. No joke. Old paintings depict the beautiful, powerful empress standing and holding her ornate robe open while a high nobleman or diplomat is shown kneeling before her, applying his lips and tongue to her royal mound.

I was very fond of strange stories when I was a child. In my village-school days, I used to buy stealthily popular novels and historical recitals. Fearing that my father and my teacher might punish me for this and rob me of these treasures, I carefully hid them in secret places where I could enjoy them unmolested. As I grew older, my love for strange stories became even stronger, and I learned of things stranger than what I had read in my childhood. When I was in my thirties, my memory was full of these stories accumulated through years of eager seeking. l have always admired such writers of the T'ang Dynasty as Tuan Ch'eng-shih [author of the Yu-yang tsa-tsu] and Niu Sheng [author of the Hsuan-kuai lu]. Who wrote short stories so excellent in portrayal of men and description of things. I often had the ambition to write a book (of stories) which might be compared with theirs. But I was too lazy to write, and as my laziness persisted, I gradually forgot most of the stories which I had learned. Now only these few stories, less than a score, have survived and have so successfully battled against my laziness that they are at last written down. Hence this Book of Monsters. I have sometimes laughingly said to myself that it is not I who have found these ghosts and monsters, but they, the monstrosities themselves, which have found me! ... Although my book is called a book or monsters, it is not confined to them: it also records the strange things of the human world and sometimes conveys a little bit of moral lesson.

And that’s why we should stop. Let’s stop before everything went so wrong. Let’s hold time still. Let’s remember him as he was on Enter—not crazy at all, only brilliant and brave, the most radical member of a radical Clan, whose apparent lack of control was predicated on the most complete control. Let’s remember him whip-thin, his head tilted, gold teeth showing, his eyes aggressively wide, wiry dreads moving away from his scalp like spilt lines of paint or the tentacular extrusions of his brilliant Black mind. Let’s let him win. Let’s remember those vocals, uninhibited by any rules except those he chose. Let’s focus always on the exhilaration, the feeling we had when we first heard him, the disbelief, the laughter which bubbled up like it does in children. Not the laughter of mockery, but the laughter of pure joy, the laughter of disbelief and amazement, the laughter which is all you can manage when confronted by the undeniable, surprising beauty of the world. Let’s let him breathe.

The wu in wuxia means both “to cut” and “to stop.” It also refers to the weapon—usually a sword—carried by the assassin, the hero of the story. The genre became very popular during the Song Dynasty [960–1279]. These stories often depicted a soldier in revolt, usually against a corrupt political leader. In order to stop corruption and the killing of innocent people, the hero must become an assassin. So wuxia stories are concerned with the premise of ending violence with violence. Although their actions are motivated by political reasons, the hero’s journey is epic and transformative—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. In the Tang Dynasty, a prominent poet named Li Bai wrote some verses about an assassin. This is the earliest example I know of wuxia literature. Gradually, the genre gave shape to ideas and stories that had been percolating in historical and mythological spheres. Although these stories were often inspired by real events of the past, to me they feel very contemporary and relevant. It’s one of the oldest genres in Chinese literature, and there are countless wuxia novels today. I began to immerse myself in these novels when I was in elementary school, and they quickly became my favorite things to read. I started with newer books and worked my way back to the earliest writing from the Tang Dynasty.

Hisako Arato... ... is an expert at medicinal cooking!" MEDICINAL COOKING Based on both Western and Eastern medicinal practices, it melds together food and pharmaceutical science. It is a culinary specialty that incorporates natural remedies and Chinese medicine into recipes to promote overall dietary health. "Besides the four traditional natural remedies, I also added Jiāng Huáng, Dà huí Xiāng, and Xiāo huí Xiāng... ... to create my own original 'Medicinal Spice Mix.' Steeping them in water for an hour drew out their medicinal properties. Then I added the mutton and various vegetables and boiled them until they were tender. Some Shaoxing wine and a cilantro garnish at the end gave it a strong, refreshing fragrance. " "That's right! Now that you mention it, there's a whole lot of overlap between medicinal cooking and curry. The medicinal herbs Jiāng Huáng, Dà huí Xiāng, and Xiāo huí Xiāng are commonly called turmeric, star anise and fennel! All three of those are spices any good curry's gotta have!" "By basing her dish on those spices, she was able to tie her medicinal cooking techniques into the curry. That makes this a dish that only she could create!" "Yes. This is my version of a Medicinal Curry... It's called 'Si wu Tang Mutton Curry'!" "I can feel it! I can feel the healing energies flowing through my body!" "Delicious! The spices highlight the strong, robust flavor of the mutton perfectly! And the mild sweetness of the vegetables has seeped into the roux, mellowing the overall flavor!" Thanks to Si wu Tang, just a few bites have the curry's heat spreading through my whole body!" "Yes. Si wu Tang is said to soothe the kidneys, boost inner chi... ... and purge both body and mind of impurities!

Back in the twentieth century, American girls had used baseball terminology. “First base” referred to embracing and kissing; “second base” referred to groping and fondling and deep, or “French,” kissing, commonly known as “heavy petting”; “third base” referred to fellatio, usually known in polite conversation by the ambiguous term “oral sex”; and “home plate” meant conception-mode intercourse, known familiarly as “going all the way.” In the year 2000, in the era of hooking up, “first base” meant deep kissing (“tonsil hockey”), groping, and fondling; “second base” meant oral sex; “third base” meant going all the way; and “home plate” meant learning each other’s names. Getting to home plate was relatively rare, however. The typical Filofax entry in the year 2000 by a girl who had hooked up the night before would be: “Boy with black Wu-Tang T-shirt and cargo pants: O, A, 6.” Or “Stupid cock diesel”—slang for a boy who was muscular from lifting weights—“who kept saying, ‘This is a cool deal’: TTC, 3.” The letters referred to the sexual acts performed (e.g., TTC for “that thing with the cup”), and the Arabic number indicated the degree of satisfaction on a scale of 1 to 10. In the year 2000, girls used “score” as an active verb indicating sexual conquest, as in: “The whole thing was like very sketchy, but I scored that diesel who said he was gonna go home and caff up [drink coffee in order to stay awake and study] for the psych test.” In the twentieth century, only boys had used “score” in that fashion, as in: “I finally scored with Susan last night.” That girls were using such a locution points up one of the ironies of the relations between the sexes in the year 2000. The continuing vogue of feminism had made sexual life easier, even insouciant, for men. Women had been persuaded that they should be just as active as men when it came to sexual advances. Men were only too happy to accede to the new order, since it absolved them of all sense of responsibility

I bomb atomically, Socrates’ philosophies and hypotheses can’t define how I be droppin these mockeries,

As the world turns, I spread like germs Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn It’s my testament to those burned Play my position in the game of life, standin’ firm

My beats travel like a vortex, Through your spine, to the top of your cerebrum cortex

If there’s something to steal, I steal it! — PICASSO

Well, I’m coming with actual rain and wind. It’s a whole lot more powerful. Who are you gonna be more intrigued by?

It’s about being genuine with it and being yourself—just bringing out the creativeness, not doing the same thing everybody else is doing, regardless of whether it don’t break through or pop off immediately.

It’s not just how many people are feelin’ you, it’s who is feeling you.

One of my chief regrets during my years in the theater was that I couldn’t sit in the audience and watch me. — JOHN BARRYMORE

To lead the people, walk behind them. — LAO TZU

Where the spirit does not work with the hand there is no art. — LEONARDO DA VINCI

Art is the elimination of the unnecessary. — PICASSO

Cash, Rules, Everything, Around, Me C.R.E.A.M. Get the money Dollar, dollar bill y'all

during the Tang Dynasty, the Empress Wu Hu ruled China. She knew that sex and power were inexorably linked, and she decreed that government officials and visiting dignitaries must pay homage to her imperial highness by performing cunnilingus upon her.

They would need a logo for the app, something that instantly enticed users to download and use Picaboo. Reggie and Evan sat together and created the logo over the course of a few hours, going back and forth on ways to symbolize the disappearing nature of the app. They settled on a friendly ghost who was smiling and sticking out its tongue. Evan drew the ghost in Adobe InDesign while Reggie tossed in ideas. Reggie named the ghost Ghostface Chillah, after the Wu-Tang Clan rapper Ghostface Killah. Evan studied the hundred most popular apps in the app store and noticed that none had yellow logos. To make Picaboo stand out, he put the Ghostface Chillah logo on a bright yellow background. Reggie slapped the logo on Facebook and Twitter pages he made for the app. While Evan worked hard on the design and vision for the product and Bobby coded, Reggie contributed less. Plenty of successful Silicon Valley founders do not write code; but they play other roles, relentless hustling in the early days of their companies, dominating nontechnical jobs like marketing and user growth. Reggie simply wasn’t doing that. Having recently turned twenty-one, he wanted to enjoy the Los Angeles nightlife, and he stayed out into the wee hours of the morning. While Evan and Bobby lived the plot of Silicon Valley, Reggie was more Entourage. Evan had always remembered and valued what Clarence Carter had told him when he worked at Red Bull, “When everyone is tired and the night is over, who stays and helps out? Because those are your true friends. Those are the hard workers, the people that believe that working hard is the right thing to do.” His co-founders felt Reggie was not pulling his weight, and it was beginning to cause resentment.

Gross and Neumann briefly became obsessed with buying a coveted Wu Tang Clan rap album of which only a single copy was made.

But when Guff looks my way, he defo snubs me. Oh no, he’s turning his back and pressing the volume up on the system. ‘Shame on a Nigga’ by Wu Tang btw, classic old school. I decide to sit down somewhere abso obvious, beside the fire, hoping that if Guff makes eye contact again I can do that Wu Tang W sign with both hands, so he knows I’m down with Shaolin.

I swing swords and cut clowns Shit is too swift to bite, you record and write it down I flow like the blood on a murder scene Like a syringe, on some wild out shit to insert a fiend...

Yeah! I wanna let all y'all niggas know in here tonight That this is that Wu-Tang shit This that shit that's gonna get you high See when you stimulate your own mind for one common cause You see who's the real motherfuckers See what you see is you what you see Be the original G Rhymin' on timin' in the place to be Ladies love seein' me!

Si Eul-che (Qin Er Shi n.n.) s’était conduit comme un souverain ordinaire et avait confié les charges aux hommes loyaux et sages, si les sujets et le souverain avaient eu les mêmes sentiments et avaient pris en pitié le malheur du monde, si, quand il était encore vêtu de blanc, (Eul-che) avait réparé les fautes de l’empereur son prédécesseur, s’il avait divisé son territoire et distribué son peuple de façon à donner des fiefs aux descendants des plus méritants entre ses sujets, s'il avait fondé des royaumes et établi des princes de manière à honorer l'empire, s'il avait vidé les prisons et épargné les supplices, relâché ceux qui avaient été condamnés comme parents complices' et ceux qui avaient été condamnés comme calomniateurs, et renvoyé chacun dans son village, s'il avait répandu le contenu de ses greniers et distribué ses richesses afin de secourir les personnes abandonnées et misérables, s'il avait restreint les taxes et diminué les corvées afin d'aider le peuple en détresse, s'il avait adouci les lois et modéré les châtiments afin de sauve- garder l'avenir, il aurait fait que tous les habitants de l'empire auraient pu se corriger, qu'ils auraient redoublé de vertu et auraient réformé leurs actions, que chacun aurait veille sur sa propre conduite, que les espérances de la multitude du peuple auraient été satisfaites; puis, grâce au prestige et à la bienfaisance qu'il aurait exercés sur l'empire, l'empire tout entier se serait rassemblé autour de lui. Alors, à l’intérieur des mers, tous auraient été contents et chacun se serait trouvé heureux de son sort ; on n’aurait eu qu’une crainte, celle d’un changement ; même s’il y avait eu des fourbes dans le peuple, ils n’auraient pu distraire le cœur du souverain ; même s’il y avait eu des ministres déshonnêtes, ils n’auraient pu décevoir son intelligence ; le fléau des cruautés et des troubles aurait donc pris fin. Eul-che ne suivit point cette ligne de conduite, mais aggrava la situation par son manque de raison. Il ruina le temple ancestral aux yeux du peuple ; il recommença à construire le palais Ngo-pang; il multiplia les châtiments et aggrava les supplices ; ses officiers gouvernèrent avec la dernière rigueur ; les récompenses et les punitions furent injustes; les taxes et les impôts furent immodérés ; l'empire fut accablé de corvée; les officiers ne purent maintenir l'ordre ; les cent familles se trouvèrent à toute extrémité et le souverain ne les recueillit pas et n'eut pas pitié d'elles. A la suite de cela, la perversité surgit de toutes parts et l’empereur et ses sujets se trompèrent mutuellement. Ceux qui avaient encouru des condamnations étaient en foule ; ceux qui avaient été mutilés et suppliciés s’apercevaient de loin les uns les autres sur les routes, et l’empire en souffrait. Depuis, les princes et les hauts dignitaires jus- qu'au commun peuple, tous étaient tourmentés de l’idée de leur propre danger et se trouvaient personnellement dans une situation très pénible. Aucun d’eux ne se sentait à l’aise dans la place qu’il occupait ; aussi était-il facile de les ébranler. C’est pourquoi Tch’en Ché (Chen Sheng n.n.) sans avoir besoin d’être sage comme T’ang et Ou' (Wu n.n.), sans être au préalable élevé en dignité comme les ducs ou les marquis, n’eut qu’à agiter, le bras à Ta-tsé pour que l’empire entier lui répondit comme l’écho, car son peu-pie était en danger.

NEW YORK (22. decembar) Lou Reedov album “New York” dobio sam na poklon za rođendan 1990. godine, dok se zagrijavao haos iz kojega do danas nismo izašli. Ništa nisam slutio, danima sam svakodnevno slušao tu ploču i sve na njoj volio. Kad sam prestao, nisam je više niti jednom stavio na gramofon. Uvijek je nešto bilo preče od nje. Večeras sam je izvadio iz najlona. Na vinilu se skupila sitna prašina, decenijama stara. Četka ju je lako pokupila i ploča je zasvirala kao nova. I dalje znam svaki refren, riff, solo na gitari, i dalje mi se sve na toj ploči sviđa. Kao da se ništa nije promijenilo od tada. A onda vidim posvetu na omotu. Mnogi dragi ljudi odavno su otišli iz Bosne i Hercegovine. Prije nekoliko godina bio sam u New Yorku, nakratko, možda tri ili četiri dana. Odlučio sam da ne obilazim turističke lokacije. Lutao sam, bez ikakvog plana, nasumično skretao u uličice, kratko odmarao u barovima i Starbucks kafeima, pa nastavljao pješačenje. Mislio sam da tako mogu bolje osjetiti taj veliki grad. Moje lutanje nije bilo sasvim bez cilja, tražio sam prodavnicu ploča. Planirao sam da kupim neku tipičnu njujoršku ploču, albume Ramonesa ili New York Dollsa, “Marquee Moon” od Television, ili bilo koji Reedov album. Želio sam to bude prvo izdanje, nije trebalo biti pretjerano očuvano, ne bi mi smetale ni sitne ogrebotine niti ljepljiva traka, tražio sam predmet sa tragom vremena na sebi. Bio bi to, mislio sam, idealan suvenir. Našao sam tobacco shop u kojem je desetak tipova nalik na Wu Tang Clan ozbiljno pućkalo iz lula, comic shop sa figurama Batmana od par hiljada dolara, popio kafu sa rastafarijancem od tri metra koji se zove Dino i kojem je bilo jako smiješno moje ime na Starbucks čaši... U ulici skupih cipela, stisnutu između dva bara sa live muzikom, naišao sam na neobičnu prodavnicu. U izlogu je imala samo kartonske maske klaunova, suncobran, ogromne rugby lopte i ofucane plišane pse, a unutra gomilu starih novina u koje je zabodena američka zastava. Prodavac sa staromodnim cvikerom na nosu razgledao je staklenu bočicu kao da je dragulj. Sada nisam siguran, možda je ta prodavnica bila u Washingtonu ili nije bila nigdje, ali tako je se sjećam. Bilo kako bilo, prodavnicu ploča koju sam tražio, nisam uspio naći. Odavno je prošla ponoć i odjednom sam shvatio da sam zaboravio broj avenije, ulice, pa i naziv hotela. Možda zbog jet laga, uzbuđenja, umora, par votki i previše kafe? Ne znam, ali nisam brinuo, vjerovao sam da ću se sjetiti tokom večeri. Stao sam ispred jedne pepeljare na trotoaru, zapalio cigaretu da bih razmislio, okrenuo se i vidio da se nalazim baš ispred hotela u kojem sam odsjeo. Sergej Dovlatov je New York uporedio sa brodom napunjenim milionima putnika, gradom toliko raznolikim da svaki došljak pomisli da u njemu može pronaći kutak za sebe. Odatle, pisao je, čovjek može pobjeći samo na mjesec. Meni u New Yorku niti u jednom momentu nije bilo neugodno. Ništa me nije plašilo u tom gradu, niti sam se u njemu osjećao kao stranac. Kući sam donio samo otvarač za flaše u obliku “Les Paula” i moju fotografiju ulaza u podzemnu željeznicu, koji izgleda baš kao onaj sa omota albuma “Loaded” grupe Velvet Underground. Donio sam i ovu mutnu, nepouzdanu uspomenu. Življe sjećanje na New York daje mi moja stara “Jugoton” ploča.

She hates that she suddenly has “friends” she neither knows nor trusts, and even that the racists are just ordinary hateful people instead of fitting into Staten’s unique brand of pro-Wu-Tang anti-Blackness.

You can break Ch’an Buddhism down to three basic ideas. One is that every person has an inherent Buddha nature inside—anyone can become enlightened. Two, there’s no one single path to enlightenment, everybody has to find his own way. Three, it’s almost impossible to reach enlightenment solely through the exchange of words.

Unmitigated Blackness is simply not giving a fuck. Clarence Cooper, Charlie Parker, Richard Pryor, Maya Deren, Sun Ra, Mizoguchi, Frida Kahlo, black-and-white Godard, Céline, Gong Li, David Hammons, Björk, and the Wu-Tang Clan in any of their hooded permutations.

Ultra-violet shine blind forensics I inspect view through the future see millennium

Ultra-violet shine blind forensics I inspect view through the future see millennium