Feb 28 2009
No thanks, I’d like to hang in
Hi. How are you? How’s it hangin’? What’s up? What’s good? What’s goin’ down? Whatcha up to? What’s new? Is old-school new? Not if you’re from the school of hard knocks. If you’re not, I’ll knock you up upside yo’ head.
Language. It’s all around us. It defines who we are. Without language, we would truly be nothing. It’s the only which way we can surely communicate. Despite all the changes the world has seen…..from caves to computers……words have remained a constant. Within this system of communication I find a sort of interweaving beauty. The rhythm of letters, the flow of sounds, the particular cadence and mysticism of putting the syntax of a sentence together.
English teachers and literary professors concern themselves with verbose eloquence, but the particular area of interest and fascination for me has always been slang. Lingo, common vernacular, urban poetry. It was worth noting that as I read The Inferno by Dante the researcher noted in the preface that Dante wrote some of the portions of his epic and majestic work in the vulgar plebeians’ language. Most artistic works, and his holds true even today, are written in the “proper” upper sense of expressions, completely ignoring how the average layman voices his thoughts. So it’s odd to think while we think of classic texts as representing how a certain culture spoke or thought, it was simply the nobility they represente. Thousands of crass, uncultured barbarians go unrepresented, their voices silenced in the echoes of time.
We forgot about language and words in our everyday life. When we call a friend or send out a text to family memebers, we do so but without considering the implications and consequences. Every day, at every day moment, we utilize language without ever stopping to really analyze this chief mode of bonding that we use. Oftentimes, it’s not even what you say, but how you say it. To adopt a calm and collected method of expressing aboslute rage and disgust is to get your message across more and to have a more sizeable amount of sympathy for your plight. We admire someone like Barack Obama even though he repeats a message said many times before because of the particularly articulate manner in which he speaks of our worries and concerns.
So join me, if you will, in taking a tour through the particular buzzwords and catchphrases we employ in everyday life to describe universal experiences. When you announce to others you’d like to “pop bottles” an immediate wave of pleasure and fun overtakes the atmosphere. As we drink alcohol, the words used to describe different levels of altered conciousness vary, with interesting implications. After a drink or two, we could be said to be “buzzed”. Down a few more and one could be getting “tipsy”. Whereas buzzed carries a conotation of a light, static feeling, tipsy implies leaning over the edge; about to fall over the cliff of sobriety but not quite there. As the night wears on one becomes “drunk”. This seems to be the medium standard for inebriation. If one is feeling adventourous, you can range from anything to “fucked-up” to “shit-faced” to my personal favorite “to’ from the floor up”. (I personally have never arrived at that state, although it sounds a bit intriguing.) These terms invoke a complete loss of control over bodily coordiantion (and perhaps bodily functions as well, though we won’t step into that for now).
Heavy metal is another breeding ground for an interesting variety of terms. They haven’t necessarly invented their own sense of speech, as the motif of anger and complete removal from society seem to suggest an apathy for creating any sort of inclusive culture. still, as one peruses their albums and analyzes their lyrics, one can see the common themes of “death”, “blood”, and “kill” come up. The music and scene as a whole seems to focus on anger and the mortality and vulnerability of the human body. Quite a morbid fascination if I do say so myself.
Another teenage subculture that seems to have created its own language is hip-hop. Indeed, this is the one area that is unique because it has fashioned a completely new way of life outside of cntemporary America. It seems rap isn’t just a form of music, but a mindset in and of itself.
What’s facinating to note is the role temperature plays in describing how valuable or noteworthy something is. If you like something, it can be termed “fire”, “hot”, but can also be “cold”. It’s cool to get ice. Hip-hop almost seeks to defy typical social conventions. In a sense, it’s a form of transgressive art to go beyond and against the usual norms. A rapper’s particular mix of vocal delivery and allusion is said to be “sick” or “dope”. Why one would aim to be sick is beyond me.
Women play an integral role in the hip-hop culture, oftentimes being objectified. Hoodrats, chickenheads, shorties, hos, bitches, these all ideally flock to the pimp, the playa, the playmaker. Hip-hop places an integral importance on the concept of light-hearted merriment and jesting. The person in the group who is clownin’ is often held with a certain amount of respect and admiration.
Friendship and interpersonal bonding is also another focus of the streets. Just look at how many terms there are for one’s colleagues: your homie, your dawg, your boy, your padna. Your nigga is a word only reserved for the closest of comrades. When you’re spending time with your peers they are your peeps, posse, your entourage. In times of hardship and conflict the need to reachm out to others is valuable, and hip-hop realizes this.
Ideals of autenticity are of the utmost imporatance in rap, as well. Keep it real, real recognzies real, word is bond. When we see a white guy from a rich neighborhood with cheap bling and a Roc-a-Wear shirt, we say he’s a wangsta. Fake, phony, punk, pussy, all insults tossed at those we feel are presenting a hollow holagram in some way or another. To be from the hood is to get street cred. Despite the strong desire to attain wealth and status—to be a balla, floss chedda, stuntin’—-it’s also important to remember where you came from and remain “ghetto”. This odd and conflicting duality is something one can notice in hip-hop. Despite that gangsta rap’s beginning came from the crack-addled streets of Compton and N.W.A. was about being poor and trapped in a cycle of nihilistic violence, we now see T.I. discussing buying unbelievable amounts of alcohol and how affluent he is. The two artists, though, have the same swagger and the same hostile and tough outlook on life. I think this idealization of the American Dream, this goal of being rich and living the high life, actually stems from the real-life conditions of most of the people who grow up and listen to this music.
Drugs are also another complex phenomenon that is accorded a good deal of semantic recognition. As the experience is so collective and mind-altering, we reserve our verbal resevoir for this particular area of life. You can see this in talking about LSD. Acid, drops, blotters. Trippin’, this accurately sums up the intensity of the effects of the intoxication. We say someone is “gone” to describe how it completely takes over the mind. MDMA, meanwhile, is called “rollin’” to describe the gradual melodic feeling one feels come over them.
On the other hand, marijuana’s less gradual and powerful effects are revealed through the slang used to pinpoint it. To get high, blazed, stoned, smoked out, what one can feel from these terms is more of a mellow and calm emotion. Chronic can be reggie. One looks for purple haze but only finds schwag. If you wanna hotbox you gotta light up. Just try not to get crunk. Indeed, crunk is almost like the hood’s version of Zen. It’s a state of being never quite explained but when you’re there you’ll understand it. Getting crunk is only reserved for the most brave of psychonauts, those who want to transcend everyday experience and undergo a bewildering sense of well-being and unihibited confidence.
Western culture’s laid-back and casual attitude comes through in just everyday terms. Do you wanna hang out? Or we could just chill (again, those themes of temperature). Whenever people ask me that, it makes me think I’ll go over to their house and melt against the walls. We don’t truly “hang”, we might stand or sit down but if we were we’d be up against the wallls together. Although that would connote being hih-strung and frustrated together, which would be undesireable. You may want to go out with your friends. Go clubbin’. (Ah, but should those poor seals suffer in the name of our merriment?) We wanna get wild, party, bring the house down. It’s curious to note when we socialize we almost desire complete destruction in each other’s company.
So next time you ask me if I’d like to hang out, no thanks, I’d like to hang in. While that may not seem cool, people have told me I’m hot, so it’s all good, unless you consider me a bad boy, in which case I may have to man up and get some girls. You never know. Word up, which I can say cuz I’m down with it.
