Jack Davey, New York City, 2005
Photography by Jason Wallace
© URB Magazine
Thank you to my sticky fingers at the photoshoot.
Thank you to my sticky fingers at the photoshoot.
Thank you to Ms. Bella for sending me this.

Saturday nights.
And Sunday mornings.
And the pains of being grown.
And the pains of soreness.
And the pains of bad backs.
And asian cinema.
And Chow's wardrobe.
And sexy, stylish, womens attire.
And a return from a long/short excursion.
And the demise of toughies.
And to walking away before the gate is locked.
To what never was but will always be.
And if you don't get it, then shut up.
And by shut up I mean I love you.
Love,
Filthy.

ms lauren lola from the town of chi has brought it to my attention that i'm missing some key elements from my blog. like midgets, sex and crippling diseases .. but not all at the same time. i refuse to add midgets to my blog, not because i hate them but because they're up their with clowns on my fright-o meter. i also refuse to add crippling diseases because i am a merciful man and would never wish, nor give (if i had the power to) crippling diseases to anyone.
but in an effort to please my audience (who knew i even had one!) i have agreed to add the sex as well as roller derby featuring scantily clad hollywood starlets and murders. but not just senseless murders, because i am a man of principle, and being a man of principle does not allow me to kill at random but only when it is necessary. so, that being said, i will be ending forrest whitaker and shemar moore sooner than later and i will kill random white folks. see i even added racism to the mix. i hope ms lauren lola from the town of chi, and all our viewers, appreciate our efforts to make this blog new, exciting and awe inspiring .. like vh1 celebreality.
thank you,
the management.






(Episode 1, The Closet @ Def Jam.)
So, sometime last week I went to visit everyone's favorite hater, Bill, at his job. After going thru a maze of halls and offices we came upon this office that housed snapple (I had one or maybe two when Bill wasn't looking), bottled water, boxes of envelopes, promo CDs, a fridge and a Rev Run poster.
They've nicknamed this office the closet, and this is where they keep poor Bill. On one side of the room, that Bill would not let me photograph, were all of the employees coats, scarves and hats. And on this rainy New York City day there were galoshes, raincoats and umbrellas scattered about. Bill told me that he'd spend rainy days slipping on the wet floor. There's also a poster for a forgotten Redman album on his wall.
I started to feel bad for him until he told me that he requested these working conditions at all his jobs. Apparently, Bill needs this type of lifestyle to keep his surly demeanor intact. I just can't seem figure out why all this is necessary, all I'd need is the big ass Rev Run poster to keep me in a shitty mood. But that's the way it is. So when you see Bill out and about and he makes smart ass comments or tells you that your mixtape/demo/album is horrible or brags about the exculsive and rare Prince Meets D'angelo, Produced by Jesus Christ album that you'll never own just remember that that's the way Bill .. And God .. Intended it.
Next Weeks Episode: Bill & His Bitches*.
Love,
Filthy.
*Bitches is not meant in a disrespectful manner, it is merely the legal
name of one of the branches of Bill's vast empire.

If you're standing at this train station ..
Looking with your own eyes ..
From this distance ..
Things look closer.
But ..
Through the eyes of this camera ..
You feel a great separation.
I wonder ..
Am I seeing things with my own eyes ..
or the camera's.
Love,
Filthy.

And he raised his head and looked upon
the people, and there fell a stillness upon
them. And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to
him,
Though the sword hidden among his
pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks yo you believe in
him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as loves crowns you so shall he
crucify you. Even as he is for your growth
so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches
that quiver
in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and
shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto
himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred
fire, that you may become sacred bread for
God's sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowlegde
become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only
love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover
your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you
shall laugh, but not all of your laughter,
and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes
naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be
possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say,
"God is in my heart," but rather. "I am
in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course
of love, for love, if it finds you worthy,
directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil
itself.
But if you love and must needs have
desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own under-
standing of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate
love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with grati-
tude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the
beloved in your heart and a song of praise
upon your lips.