SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
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ladouce2005
Primus registratum
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
Bizke qenke bere objekt ketu /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
Bizke qenke bere objekt ketu /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
Kshu kalamaja sot koha me vranesira po weekendi duket premtues , po e le me kaq se pastaj fillojne ankesat , nuk po flas fare per party . Ika ika se me duhet te laj shkallet e pallatit .
Po deshet mos me besoni po dje erdhi nje komshi nga Korca dhe me kishte derguar gjyshja petanik .........jo jo nuk qe i pjekur ne sac por prape qe nice fare . Po qe se di te beje petanik me siguri do dije te bej dhe lakror me dy pete kshu qe s ma ha mendja te merzitem aq shpejt .
Kshu kalamaja sot koha me vranesira po weekendi duket premtues , po e le me kaq se pastaj fillojne ankesat , nuk po flas fare per party . Ika ika se me duhet te laj shkallet e pallatit .
Tironsi_NY
Primus registratum
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
sdo na bohet ndonji albanian party ket weekend? /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
sdo na bohet ndonji albanian party ket weekend? /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
Ja ku eshte dhe nje bashkatdhetar tjeter:
If Mr. Broadhead is the glue that keeps everyone together, then Lavbosh Gjuzaj is the grease that keeps them moving. An Albanian immigrant with a love for hip-hop culture, Mr. Gjuzaj, 30, is simply known as Maestro and his domain is the music, the money and, in some ways, the group's interaction with its audience. An outlandish jester who is fluent in five languages, he works the crowd with a bucket or a bag, goading people with exhortations like "Don't be afraid, I'm white too," or, "Come on, I have change for a twenty."
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/08/05/nyregion/05break.html
Ja ku eshte dhe nje bashkatdhetar tjeter:
If Mr. Broadhead is the glue that keeps everyone together, then Lavbosh Gjuzaj is the grease that keeps them moving. An Albanian immigrant with a love for hip-hop culture, Mr. Gjuzaj, 30, is simply known as Maestro and his domain is the music, the money and, in some ways, the group's interaction with its audience. An outlandish jester who is fluent in five languages, he works the crowd with a bucket or a bag, goading people with exhortations like "Don't be afraid, I'm white too," or, "Come on, I have change for a twenty."
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/08/05/nyregion/05break.html
ladouce2005
Primus registratum
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
mirmengjes o shqipetare te amerikes /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
:wave:
sic tha dhe NYCG kohen se kemi gje sot, por mendimi qe fundjava do kete plot diell na ben te ndihemi FINE /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif :rockband:
degjova Party une :devil: hajde per inat te botes, te festojme e te gerrnaqemi :devil:
"close the doors" per inatcinjte /pf/images/graemlins/tongue.gif
mirmengjes o shqipetare te amerikes /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
:wave:
sic tha dhe NYCG kohen se kemi gje sot, por mendimi qe fundjava do kete plot diell na ben te ndihemi FINE /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif :rockband:
degjova Party une :devil: hajde per inat te botes, te festojme e te gerrnaqemi :devil:
"close the doors" per inatcinjte /pf/images/graemlins/tongue.gif
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
Artikulli per ata qe nuk jane te regjistruar /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
NYTimes:
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NYTime
What Spins Around Comes Around
By ANDREW JACOBS
Published: August 5, 2004
elike Jamal McCrimmon wasn't even born when break dancers like Crazy Legs and the Zulu Kings were tearing up the sidewalks and bringing the South Bronx enough glory to briefly eclipse its status as America's showcase for arson, gang warfare and urban despair. Back in the early 1980's, the Grand Concourse buzzed with kids spinning on their heads or popping like robots. Hollywood caught the fever, and even Michael Jackson learned to moonwalk. But by the 1990's, break dance mania had gone the way of disco.
Advertisement
Mr. McCrimmon, 17, grew up on break dance lore and the tales of the Bronx-born dancers who made it big, so when he saw Rasheem Broadhead twirling on the sidewalk near the Morris Avenue apartments where they both then lived one day, he thought he spotted a way out of the ghetto. Mr. Broadhead, better known as Smiley, taught him to spin on his hands and bounce his small, muscled frame on one hand like an upside-down rag doll.
Then he accepted Mr. McCrimmon into his crew, the Break Dance Boys, and Mr. McCrimmon's world changed.
Five nights a week, the Boys head downtown to Union Square, or over to Yankee Stadium when there is a game, and strangers fill their large, empty pail with dollar bills and pose with them for pictures. Mr. McCrimmon, a wisecracking perpetual-motion machine who once dabbled in illegal activities he would rather not discuss, has been taking home $100 a day, helping his mother with the rent, filling his closet with 30 pairs of Nikes and talking about hitting the big time. "If it wasn't for dancing, I'd be out there selling drugs, or I'd be dead," he said.
More than two decades after it was born as a way for opposing gang members to face off in clubs without resorting to violence, break dancing, known on the street as b-boying, is enjoying a full-blown revival.
Mainstream hip-hop artists often include b-boy dancers in their videos, and there are now monthly contests around the world where dancers from Japan, Europe and the United States compete for cash prizes. These days, the best break dancers are as likely to hail from suburban St. Louis or Milan as from the South Bronx and Bedford-Stuyvesant.
Dreams of making it have inspired a new generation of city kids to take up the dance. On any given day, three separate crews are working in Times Square, some with members as young as 12. They are gripped by the age-old fever for stardom and fortune, although few ever get beyond the grimy pavement of New York.
Mr. Broadhead, a 22-year-old sometime drug dealer who has been street dancing with crews since he was 16, believes he can take his 12-member troupe to the top; in the year since he formed the Break Dance Boys, they have traveled to Boston and Atlantic City. This winter, if they can save enough for hotel rooms and airfare, Mr. Broadhead plans to take everyone to Miami. "I'm hoping I can get a club to sponsor us, maybe even get us in a few commercials," said Mr. Broadhead, whose talents have already taken him to Japan and Canada.
The crew, nearly all of whom live in the South Bronx, consider themselves a family, referring to each other as brother, and on rainy days they gather in the fifth floor vestibule of Mr. McCrimmon's building to perfect their moves and talk about renting an apartment together so they can strengthen their bond.
"We have a lot of things we need to achieve," Mr. McCrimmon said with authority, sitting in his bedroom as the others nodded in agreement. "Maybe we can get a van together. Maybe we can teach break dancing for $50 an hour."
But Mr. Broadhead's more immediate goal is to hold together his newfound brotherhood and steer its members clear of the lures that have toppled so many of his peers: "We need to keep dancing so we don't do obsolete things like robbing or selling drugs."
Their current vocation may be legal, but their chosen site, the pedestrian-choked sidewalks of Manhattan, often draws unwanted notice from the police. Mr. Broadhead said he had been arrested 15 times during performances for panhandling or disorderly conduct and has received an equal number of summonses for those offenses. He said the charges were always dismissed in court.
Subscribe Today: Home Delivery of The Times from $2.90/wk.
Continued
1 | 2 | Next>
What Spins Around Comes Around
Published: August 5, 2004
(Page 2 of 2)
More devastating, he said, is when the police confiscate the group's amplifier, generator, and on rare occasions, the proceeds of the day. "We get treated like criminals when all we're doing is trying to make people happy," said Mr. Broadhead, whose body bears numerous scars from break dance mishaps.
Promptness and group cohesion are not the crew's strong suit, and Mr. Broadhead is constantly struggling to keep his rambunctious dancers in line. On a recent afternoon, as the Boys trickled down to their Times Square meeting place more than an hour after the appointed time, Mr. Broadhead grew furious when nearly half of them failed to bring their new uniforms: matching basketball shorts and jerseys. "See how undisciplined they are?" he grumbled to himself.
Advertisement
If Mr. Broadhead is the glue that keeps everyone together, then Lavbosh Gjuzaj is the grease that keeps them moving. An Albanian immigrant with a love for hip-hop culture, Mr. Gjuzaj, 30, is simply known as Maestro and his domain is the music, the money and, in some ways, the group's interaction with its audience. An outlandish jester who is fluent in five languages, he works the crowd with a bucket or a bag, goading people with exhortations like "Don't be afraid, I'm white too," or, "Come on, I have change for a twenty." Mr. Broadhead's pitch, shouted into the microphone, can be just as jarring: "People, keep in mind that we're working hard, so don't be cheap, don't be a deadbeat," he's said. "What we're doing keeps us out the courthouse, or your house."
Mr. Gjuzaj, who studied music in Italy and dreams of becoming a professional singer, met Mr. Broadhead in Times Square four years ago, just days after his arrival in the United States. He was crooning Michael Jackson songs in heavily accented English at the TKTS discount theater ticket booth when Mr. Broadhead approached and proposed the collaboration. "Now Maestro talks like a brother," Mr. Broadhead said with a smile that reveals a golden row of slip-on teeth.
The crew could not dance without their Maestro, although sometimes they bristle at his admonitions or his choice of music, most of it old-school hip-hop or 70s' era disco. "They don't listen to me," he groaned one day after Mr. McCrimmon repeatedly grabbed at his iPod.Later, he quietly admitted, "I'm lucky they accept me as a white guy."
Opposite MTV's studio in Times Square - a popular daytime destination for the Boys - Mr. Gjuzaj grabbed a nub of chalk to draw a box on the sidewalk. The crew yelled "It's show time" in unison and within moments, scores of tourists obligingly toed up to the line. Mr. Broadhead gave his usual pitch for money and applause, the music crackled and the crew took turns doing dazzling solos: Macho twisted and bounced like a whirling dervish, G broke into a blur of back flips and Scooby Doo, his face contorted like a cartoon character's, jerked around like a jelly-filled automaton. The crowd was riveted and money poured into the bucket until the blue cap of a police officer appeared on the horizon. In a flash, the crew melted into the throng.
After deciding that Times Square was too "hot" with police, Mr. Broadhead led his crew into the subway and down to Union Square, where the park rangers have lately been more permissive. As the sun disappeared below 14th Street, they started a series of performances, alternating with another crew, that lasted well past 11 p.m. At the end of their final set, a club producer approached Mr. Broadhead to ask if the crew might perform at a new club in Chelsea, the Dark Light, scheduled to open in mid-August. "You guys are made of rubber," she said, handing him her card. "You're pure energy."
The crew receded to a bench behind the park's equestrian statue of George Washington and as the guys hit on girls and made quick work of a pack of Newports, Mr. Broadhead divvied up the day's take, his trademark smile beaming. "I have a good feeling right now," he said, sorting through the pile of dollars, dimes and quarters, which came to about $800, a bit less than usual. "I think our moment may have finally come."
Subscribe Today: Home Delivery of The Times from $2.90/wk.
<<Previous | 1 | 2
Artikulli per ata qe nuk jane te regjistruar /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
NYTimes:
Site Search:
NYTime
What Spins Around Comes Around
By ANDREW JACOBS
Published: August 5, 2004
elike Jamal McCrimmon wasn't even born when break dancers like Crazy Legs and the Zulu Kings were tearing up the sidewalks and bringing the South Bronx enough glory to briefly eclipse its status as America's showcase for arson, gang warfare and urban despair. Back in the early 1980's, the Grand Concourse buzzed with kids spinning on their heads or popping like robots. Hollywood caught the fever, and even Michael Jackson learned to moonwalk. But by the 1990's, break dance mania had gone the way of disco.
Advertisement
Mr. McCrimmon, 17, grew up on break dance lore and the tales of the Bronx-born dancers who made it big, so when he saw Rasheem Broadhead twirling on the sidewalk near the Morris Avenue apartments where they both then lived one day, he thought he spotted a way out of the ghetto. Mr. Broadhead, better known as Smiley, taught him to spin on his hands and bounce his small, muscled frame on one hand like an upside-down rag doll.
Then he accepted Mr. McCrimmon into his crew, the Break Dance Boys, and Mr. McCrimmon's world changed.
Five nights a week, the Boys head downtown to Union Square, or over to Yankee Stadium when there is a game, and strangers fill their large, empty pail with dollar bills and pose with them for pictures. Mr. McCrimmon, a wisecracking perpetual-motion machine who once dabbled in illegal activities he would rather not discuss, has been taking home $100 a day, helping his mother with the rent, filling his closet with 30 pairs of Nikes and talking about hitting the big time. "If it wasn't for dancing, I'd be out there selling drugs, or I'd be dead," he said.
More than two decades after it was born as a way for opposing gang members to face off in clubs without resorting to violence, break dancing, known on the street as b-boying, is enjoying a full-blown revival.
Mainstream hip-hop artists often include b-boy dancers in their videos, and there are now monthly contests around the world where dancers from Japan, Europe and the United States compete for cash prizes. These days, the best break dancers are as likely to hail from suburban St. Louis or Milan as from the South Bronx and Bedford-Stuyvesant.
Dreams of making it have inspired a new generation of city kids to take up the dance. On any given day, three separate crews are working in Times Square, some with members as young as 12. They are gripped by the age-old fever for stardom and fortune, although few ever get beyond the grimy pavement of New York.
Mr. Broadhead, a 22-year-old sometime drug dealer who has been street dancing with crews since he was 16, believes he can take his 12-member troupe to the top; in the year since he formed the Break Dance Boys, they have traveled to Boston and Atlantic City. This winter, if they can save enough for hotel rooms and airfare, Mr. Broadhead plans to take everyone to Miami. "I'm hoping I can get a club to sponsor us, maybe even get us in a few commercials," said Mr. Broadhead, whose talents have already taken him to Japan and Canada.
The crew, nearly all of whom live in the South Bronx, consider themselves a family, referring to each other as brother, and on rainy days they gather in the fifth floor vestibule of Mr. McCrimmon's building to perfect their moves and talk about renting an apartment together so they can strengthen their bond.
"We have a lot of things we need to achieve," Mr. McCrimmon said with authority, sitting in his bedroom as the others nodded in agreement. "Maybe we can get a van together. Maybe we can teach break dancing for $50 an hour."
But Mr. Broadhead's more immediate goal is to hold together his newfound brotherhood and steer its members clear of the lures that have toppled so many of his peers: "We need to keep dancing so we don't do obsolete things like robbing or selling drugs."
Their current vocation may be legal, but their chosen site, the pedestrian-choked sidewalks of Manhattan, often draws unwanted notice from the police. Mr. Broadhead said he had been arrested 15 times during performances for panhandling or disorderly conduct and has received an equal number of summonses for those offenses. He said the charges were always dismissed in court.
Subscribe Today: Home Delivery of The Times from $2.90/wk.
Continued
1 | 2 | Next>
What Spins Around Comes Around
Published: August 5, 2004
(Page 2 of 2)
More devastating, he said, is when the police confiscate the group's amplifier, generator, and on rare occasions, the proceeds of the day. "We get treated like criminals when all we're doing is trying to make people happy," said Mr. Broadhead, whose body bears numerous scars from break dance mishaps.
Promptness and group cohesion are not the crew's strong suit, and Mr. Broadhead is constantly struggling to keep his rambunctious dancers in line. On a recent afternoon, as the Boys trickled down to their Times Square meeting place more than an hour after the appointed time, Mr. Broadhead grew furious when nearly half of them failed to bring their new uniforms: matching basketball shorts and jerseys. "See how undisciplined they are?" he grumbled to himself.
Advertisement
If Mr. Broadhead is the glue that keeps everyone together, then Lavbosh Gjuzaj is the grease that keeps them moving. An Albanian immigrant with a love for hip-hop culture, Mr. Gjuzaj, 30, is simply known as Maestro and his domain is the music, the money and, in some ways, the group's interaction with its audience. An outlandish jester who is fluent in five languages, he works the crowd with a bucket or a bag, goading people with exhortations like "Don't be afraid, I'm white too," or, "Come on, I have change for a twenty." Mr. Broadhead's pitch, shouted into the microphone, can be just as jarring: "People, keep in mind that we're working hard, so don't be cheap, don't be a deadbeat," he's said. "What we're doing keeps us out the courthouse, or your house."
Mr. Gjuzaj, who studied music in Italy and dreams of becoming a professional singer, met Mr. Broadhead in Times Square four years ago, just days after his arrival in the United States. He was crooning Michael Jackson songs in heavily accented English at the TKTS discount theater ticket booth when Mr. Broadhead approached and proposed the collaboration. "Now Maestro talks like a brother," Mr. Broadhead said with a smile that reveals a golden row of slip-on teeth.
The crew could not dance without their Maestro, although sometimes they bristle at his admonitions or his choice of music, most of it old-school hip-hop or 70s' era disco. "They don't listen to me," he groaned one day after Mr. McCrimmon repeatedly grabbed at his iPod.Later, he quietly admitted, "I'm lucky they accept me as a white guy."
Opposite MTV's studio in Times Square - a popular daytime destination for the Boys - Mr. Gjuzaj grabbed a nub of chalk to draw a box on the sidewalk. The crew yelled "It's show time" in unison and within moments, scores of tourists obligingly toed up to the line. Mr. Broadhead gave his usual pitch for money and applause, the music crackled and the crew took turns doing dazzling solos: Macho twisted and bounced like a whirling dervish, G broke into a blur of back flips and Scooby Doo, his face contorted like a cartoon character's, jerked around like a jelly-filled automaton. The crowd was riveted and money poured into the bucket until the blue cap of a police officer appeared on the horizon. In a flash, the crew melted into the throng.
After deciding that Times Square was too "hot" with police, Mr. Broadhead led his crew into the subway and down to Union Square, where the park rangers have lately been more permissive. As the sun disappeared below 14th Street, they started a series of performances, alternating with another crew, that lasted well past 11 p.m. At the end of their final set, a club producer approached Mr. Broadhead to ask if the crew might perform at a new club in Chelsea, the Dark Light, scheduled to open in mid-August. "You guys are made of rubber," she said, handing him her card. "You're pure energy."
The crew receded to a bench behind the park's equestrian statue of George Washington and as the guys hit on girls and made quick work of a pack of Newports, Mr. Broadhead divvied up the day's take, his trademark smile beaming. "I have a good feeling right now," he said, sorting through the pile of dollars, dimes and quarters, which came to about $800, a bit less than usual. "I think our moment may have finally come."
Subscribe Today: Home Delivery of The Times from $2.90/wk.
<<Previous | 1 | 2
Tironsi_NY
Primus registratum
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
sa keqe qeka duçja
po leni dhe inatcinjt te futen ska gje /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
sa keqe qeka duçja
po leni dhe inatcinjt te futen ska gje /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
ladouce2005
Primus registratum
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
mire, prej inatit po e lejme nje dritare hapur /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif /pf/images/graemlins/wink.gif
le te na shikojne se kenaqemi e le te pellcasin /pf/images/graemlins/tongue.gif /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
mire, prej inatit po e lejme nje dritare hapur /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif /pf/images/graemlins/wink.gif
le te na shikojne se kenaqemi e le te pellcasin /pf/images/graemlins/tongue.gif /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif
ladouce2005
Primus registratum
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
/pf/images/graemlins/tongue.gif me kane qerasur already :devil: , je vone /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif , por faleminderit for the good thought /pf/images/graemlins/tongue.gif
/pf/images/graemlins/tongue.gif me kane qerasur already :devil: , je vone /pf/images/graemlins/laugh.gif , por faleminderit for the good thought /pf/images/graemlins/tongue.gif
Re: SHQIPTARET E AMERIKES
jetoj ne u.k ,1 shok i imi ka i hall ne thash ta shkruj k`tu se mos me nihmo njeri,pra ky shoku im dikur u martu k`tu ne u.k me 1 te BE per dokumenta,mas nja 2 vjetesh ndahet me te (jo zyrtarisht)dhe njihet me 1 shqiptare ,dhe venos me shku e jetu n`shqipni me k`et gocen pasi ka leje 4-vjecare ,ku dhe ben i celebrim ,dhe kane i goce te vogel,pro... ja qe grus (shqip) i del llotoja amerikane ne e ka vizitu i here u.s.a vitin qe vje do shkoje prap,djalit akoma si ka maru leja ketu ne u.k ,mas i viti mbyll c`do gje me u.k
Tani pyetja ime osht,a mund te kerkoje vize per u..s.a djali ( kur k`tu ne u.k ka bere i kerkese dhe i osht refuzu ka ambasada u.s.a.)apo duhet te presi 5 vjet deri sa shqiptarja te mari pasahporten u.s.a,
sikurse a mund te sjelli problem qe gruaja e tij s`ka deklaru ne ambasade kur ka bere doc qe ka qene e martume me ket djale,por ka deklaru qe eshte beqare por ka i fmi me ket djale(pasi vajza e tyre mban mbiemrin e babes)
gjithashtu ,ai ka frik se mos ambasada usa,k`tu ne u.k si ka fshi rekordet ,ne mos i del ne ambasaden usa ne tirane,dhe i dalin horlliqet e marteses me ke`t te BE,ekziston... qe martesa e tij me tir ne tiron te mos quhet si pasoje e ligjit ,qe s`mund te kesh dy gara ne je kurore,dhe ne se e marrin vesh k`to te usa-sas menoni se mund te sjelli noi rrezik per grun qe tja heqin lejen e vazhdimit te llotaris ,dhe... kur ajo ta kete marre parshapeorten usa?
Lomsh hesapi por thash ta shkru se mos e nihmo nonji perj jush,sikur dhe ka thashethemt qe thuhem lart e posht ,per historira te tilla.
ju flm dhe ja kalofshi mire kudo qofshit.
jetoj ne u.k ,1 shok i imi ka i hall ne thash ta shkruj k`tu se mos me nihmo njeri,pra ky shoku im dikur u martu k`tu ne u.k me 1 te BE per dokumenta,mas nja 2 vjetesh ndahet me te (jo zyrtarisht)dhe njihet me 1 shqiptare ,dhe venos me shku e jetu n`shqipni me k`et gocen pasi ka leje 4-vjecare ,ku dhe ben i celebrim ,dhe kane i goce te vogel,pro... ja qe grus (shqip) i del llotoja amerikane ne e ka vizitu i here u.s.a vitin qe vje do shkoje prap,djalit akoma si ka maru leja ketu ne u.k ,mas i viti mbyll c`do gje me u.k
Tani pyetja ime osht,a mund te kerkoje vize per u..s.a djali ( kur k`tu ne u.k ka bere i kerkese dhe i osht refuzu ka ambasada u.s.a.)apo duhet te presi 5 vjet deri sa shqiptarja te mari pasahporten u.s.a,
sikurse a mund te sjelli problem qe gruaja e tij s`ka deklaru ne ambasade kur ka bere doc qe ka qene e martume me ket djale,por ka deklaru qe eshte beqare por ka i fmi me ket djale(pasi vajza e tyre mban mbiemrin e babes)
gjithashtu ,ai ka frik se mos ambasada usa,k`tu ne u.k si ka fshi rekordet ,ne mos i del ne ambasaden usa ne tirane,dhe i dalin horlliqet e marteses me ke`t te BE,ekziston... qe martesa e tij me tir ne tiron te mos quhet si pasoje e ligjit ,qe s`mund te kesh dy gara ne je kurore,dhe ne se e marrin vesh k`to te usa-sas menoni se mund te sjelli noi rrezik per grun qe tja heqin lejen e vazhdimit te llotaris ,dhe... kur ajo ta kete marre parshapeorten usa?
Lomsh hesapi por thash ta shkru se mos e nihmo nonji perj jush,sikur dhe ka thashethemt qe thuhem lart e posht ,per historira te tilla.
ju flm dhe ja kalofshi mire kudo qofshit.