so the big news this week is the ill-lit myspace music feature. in all realness, it's probably the widest exposure we've gotten so far. a tiny 120x85 pixel picture of us on a webpage and all of a sudden we are rocketed into CYBER-STARDOM. in a single instant, the page that was getting around 75 hits a day starts getting 25,000. friend count doubles, interview requests roll in, kids from all over the world start messaging "cHecK oUt mY bEatZ!!!" and all from a tiny picture and a link on a webpage.

the truth is, i'm pretty thrilled...it seems so self-indulgent, so materialistic and vain. but after hibernating for most of december cranking out this new website, i suppose something like this is really all someone could ask for, right?

at the same time...maybe it's the buzz wearing off, or the eyelids getting sleepy, or the 8 days of fasting so far, but at this moment i'm called back into reality. the insecurity starts seeping in. and then it occurs to me that maybe i'm standing smack dab in the middle of my 15 minutes of fame.

but i guess i felt the same way when we were on our way to paris, and when "slip of the tongue" blew up, and at the common show. in fact, i feel that way just about every time something big pops off. at times it's a rude awakening that keeps me from fully indulging, from allowing myself to be swept into the euphoria of being hailed for the work that i've put so much of myself into. at other times, it has helped me stay grounded, and most importantly, to understand that, as great as something like a myspace feature is, it's definitely not what i hope this alllllllllllllll amounts to.


this past december, on a hotel room patio in pomona, california, ill-literacy sparked one up and watched the rain fall on the trees outside. it was our last 2007 show with all four of us, and we hadn't just opened for lauryn hill, or performed off-broadway, or taken the london tube home, or been bombarded by hundreds of fans at an after party. we had just gotten back from a gig at the pomona college cafe, to a modest crowd of 50 or so, and we all agreed that it was probably our favorite show of the year. we had connected with the audience. they were with us the whole time, all 50 of them. and that was all we needed.

"you know," sighed dahlak, "even if we stop getting gigs, and this shit never gets any bigger, i'll just be thankful for all this. we get flown out to have people listen to us speak. what more can we ask for?"

we toasted our heinekens and sat back on the lawnchairs, content in the moment but all with dreams in the backs of our heads to one day become as legendary as the sam cooke crooning from the laptop speakers.


so back to the whole myspace thing, i'm extremely thankful for the opportunity to have my work exposed to so many people...i think it's really dope, and in the past couple of days i've met some true fans that i'm so appreciative of. but i don't want to get too comfortable with all this, and if anything, i'm writing this for you to hold me accountable. for this situation, or whatever else comes masked in the face of fame, that has swept many off their feet before.

i've written a few times about summer '06, and how ruby and i would spend day after day with fade to black and tupac resurrection on repeat. the memory of that holds such significance in my head because it's truly the period in time when the concept of fame had me--owned me. we were just really a year into the game, and we were tossing around dreams of rocking madison square garden, toasting with slick rick, our lines memorized by people who don't even speak english. it's the powerful force that fueled much of the motivation that got us through the next year, and almost tore the crew apart this past june when the pressure of conforming to a format got too thick. fame--you don't have to be famous to be a victim of it.

prior to this week, during random nights i would find myself suddenly obsessed with how many myspace friends we had, or how many hits my website was getting, or how many gigs we had booked, or how much money i had in my bank account. i've never liked numbers, and it's not just because i suck at math. really, numbers can be evil and make you forget everything that you value. i'd sit and lament in front of the computer screen, mostly frustrated with myself for being so superficial (so mortal?). and then i'd ask myself--if it's really about the "how much" and "how many"--then really. how many? how many hits, or bookings, or dollars until i'm satisfied? i asked myself that question again today, as i watched the plays on our page shoot up by the minute. and the fact is, things that don't matter will never be enough.


so what's the moral of the story?

i'm starting to realize that all these things that i find myself longing for from time to time, it's just because i'm used to longing for it. sure, it's stuff that i want, but it's not anything worth ignoring everything else for. the moments that i really love, i experience on a regular basis, and i'm glad i'm catching on early enough to appreciate them while they're still happening; going to see plays with ill-lit, finding random audio clips and videos of people covering my poems, high school teachers handing me letters from their students. things like that can't ever be quantified, and won't ever be able to outshine the stuff that can be. fans like rebecca lee--i know you're reading this. for real, your support for us is dope and i want you to know that we mention you in our conversations and then we sit back and appreciate you. and all you folks who read up on me, and on us, and maybe never drop a comment, i appreciate you.

actually, yeah. basically, if you've read through everything above and you're still here with me, you're pretty freaking fresh. if you've been following these blogs, thanks for reading...you keep me honest. if you're new to these...hi. welcome to the part of the ill-literacy site that gets emo every once in awhile. i'll continue keeping y'all updated, for as long as at least some of you care to know.

ill-love,
adriel


Sam Cooke - Fool's Paradise