brocrastination.
Supposed to start moving shit today but instead I'm youtubing vids of Harold Hunter, that black skate cat from "KIDS" who fucked that dude up with the grip tape business end of his board for steppin' to Casper in the film.
Click to viewAnd like, that video has this ill fuckin' freestyle from Method Man and Ghostface, which got me in this "cold city morning '90s rap" sorta mood, so I'm listening to this album Raul sendspaced my ass like a week ago from Big Noyd, this half Puerto-Rican/half black dude who used to run shit with Mobb Deep, and it's pretty ill thus far.
Last night I ended up at yet another random warehouse party, Kaz was asking me about some chick he hooked up with Thursday night. Earlier, at the cat some dude started giving Ben shit about his birth control glasses, so Ron and I stepped in and drunkass started spouting shit about how "Asians don't know shit about what's street" and was all "I don't know how they do things in Japan but this is America!" Kaz said, in his thin Japanese accent, that if he was there "I woulda fuck him up, buddy!"
After schooling his ass on the fact that technically Ron and I aren't Asian, and the fact that we currently live three doors down from a crackhouse, dude kept talking random shit, and it was annoying because he just kept calling everyone clueless in this drunk, effeminate accent. So yeah, dude was pretty obvi gay.
The last drunk gay dude I had an awesome talk with was my soon-to-be former roommate Bernard, who came home wasted from Town one night and swore to god that I was still a virgin, and after I told him otherwise he decided to give a pep talk to my dick anyway. Shit was golden. Imagine, your pee-pee being yelled at to act more confident and do what it's told and how the show I was gonna play with him and Miguel that weekend was supposed to "get me more pussy than Jesus."
Two days later I fucked up 16 bars out of a mixture of anxiety, coke, and alcohol.
I think that was when I realized I probably wasn't a musician.