It seems that no matter what I say (or type) no one seems to understand anything Iโm saying so Iโll try bullet points:
- Vol 7 is the last NSD Compilation (Iโm never doing one of those again)
- NSD as a label is back (but donโt expect it to be like it was 4 years ago)
Iโm going to do an AMA on IG next week and wanted to get that out of the way and (as nice as the words are) - I kind of want everyone to stop talking about me like theyโre at my funeral ๐คฃ
In America, a stranger will rename you in a single breath, and you are simply expected to come when called.
I went to eat at a busy restaurant. A young man at the front asked for my name, to mark my place in line. I gave it the weight it has carried for eight hundred years.
"Nobunaga."
He smiled, nodded, and wrote it down with great confidence. Then he read it back to me, to be sure he had honored it correctly.
"Perfect. Banana, party of one."
Banana. He had heard my name, held it a moment, and returned to me something rounder and more cheerful. To refuse the name a host gives is to refuse his welcome. I bowed. I was Banana now.
Then he handed me a small black disc, said it would "light up and buzz" when my table was ready, and turned to the next guest as though he had not just placed a living thing in my hands.
I held it in both palms, the way one holds a small sleeping beast that may wake. I found a place to stand. I waited, ready.
It woke.
It screamed. It flashed red. It leapt and shook in my hands like a captured spirit demanding release. A lesser man would have dropped it. I did not. I gripped it, steady, looked into its blinking lights, and told it, in a low voice, that its time had come. Then I carried it back to the host with both hands, the way one returns a hawk to its master.
He took it without looking and shouted across the entire room.
"BANANA! Party of one, your table's ready!"
A hundred strangers turned. I rose. I crossed that floor as Banana, spine straight, chin level, a man answering to his name. A child pointed at me. I gave the child a small bow. He had recognized me.
All through the meal they kept me. "How's it tasting, Banana?" "More water, Banana?" The check, when it came, said Banana, and thanked me for visiting. By the end the whole staff knew me. They waved as I left. "Night, Banana!"
So tell me honestly.
For eight hundred years my clan answered to one name. Tonight I answered to a fruit, calmed a screaming relic in my bare hands, and ate among people who were glad I came.
When the little disc lights up, is the table truly mine, or am I only keeping it warm for the next Banana?
Because I have already decided to return on Friday, and to ask, very humbly, for the same disc.
Anyone who isnโt against this type of messaging about trans people and our fundamental freedom of political and religious affiliation is nobody I want to know or be associated with.
This entire administration is ragebait but thereโs a time and place to push back and heres one
We may never know who introduced Takuya Nakamura to UK Jungle music, after moving from Tokyo to Boston to study Jazz theory - but I, for one, am very grateful.
TRAMPA.
I finally have his blessing to speak on this, and Iโm happy to do so.
I know social media doesnโt reward long videos like this, but if youโre going to comment, please watch both all the way through and read the timeline first.
I wonโt be going back and forth online about it after this, and Iโm also not going to pretend Trampa didnโt exist.
Part 1 โ What I know
Part 2 โ Why Iโm speaking now
I feel like younger people don't realize that the internet wasn't always optimized solely to make you as angry and miserable as possible, and people are having a lot of nostalgia for 2000s internet vibes now because it wasn't like that back then