Rolled over

Hip Hop history last night. It still doesn't seem real; I blinked, gobbled some white substances, double fisted water and beer, and then I walked crooked out the door. I haven't really absorbed that I just witnessed Wu-Tangs last show. I feel like I just watched the Beatles or The Rolling Stones or some other rarity that, even with the deaths of icons, can still tare down the walls. Can showcase their love for the fans and put on a grand finale for us. I was appreciative. I threw up the W. I was also heavily abducted by molly.

Now, this girl is fine. Usually, one of the most smile provoking, eye glistening drugs I've ever played with. She isn't a hoe like coke; getting ran through, cut up, sliced, and sold on every street corner. This chick... is in V.I.P. She sits with champagne, sequin mini skirts and arms and legs that glow in any color you choose. She is beautiful... but like any attraction or novelty... it gets old.

Last night, I kicked it with molly for a while. I still am. But I didn't follow her to her little V.I.P. sweet. I sat in a big group of big bodied, shoulder bashing, drink spilling, fight eyes and off beat white boys. With lighting that made no sense to my perspective, and with songs... I grew up listening to.. being played at such a high volume that I couldn't even make out the lyrics to 'C.R.E.A.M.' It was disappointing to say the least. Here I am, with my boys who scatter around the US in a few days, with a hell of a free drug, with the New Year starting off with Wu and what happens... oh, thats right folks- my expectations ran me over again. Expect to have that mystical, ashtray pupil experience from highschool with your boys from highschool at concert with a band you listened to invariably through highschool... well, highschool is fucking done. And I've always been glad to say that, so I dont know why I expected anything amazing. I'm 23. I'm at a major crossroads in my life. My emotions are tweaked worse then my mind right now and I thought I was going to have a blast?? I thought... I was going to induce myself into a highly emotional state and just coast into the speakers and the words... psh, I need to grow the fuck up.

Which is now pretty much my focus. I'll continue to be disappointed with molly. She will never look as gorgeous and comfortable as those first few times. Back when she taught me how to paint pictures with glowsticks. Back when a hug would send ice up your neck and music would leave echos in your ear drums.

Actually, I'm still hearing Method spitting 'Rockwilder'. So that part's still there. But all that other fancy, enlightening, unifying jazz... that's gone. Or maybe I just took too much... stupid tongue. Note to self : anytime a lunatic with a little baggy sticks their finger really close to your face, probably shouldn't keep opening your mouth. Thats the first and last time I'll ever lick another mans finger...

Regardless, Wu Tang clan isn't nothing to fuck with. And I'll write that out as white as possible because I sincerely respect those guys. Especially Meth. Shit, after the show, having all these cock grabbers shoving anything and everything up at him for him to sign. I watched about 6 feet away from him just feeling sorry that he has to have that high standard. It hast to suck a little. Fun, maybe. But all these little heathens asking for more from you... well, you gotta have a big heart or alot of dope for puttin up with that. Could I have got his autograph? yeah. Did I want to partake in that barbaric display of fan-ism? no. I love those guys but I dont want to give them carpal tunnel. They just put on a damn show; if your gonna pass anything up to them, it better be a couch and a blunt of kush.


A dude who I slammed with at Rustbelt gave me a good ol shout out on stage though. That was kinda cool I suppose, even though I didn't hear it. Out of the sea of hundreds of people... I get called out for DOING POETRY!!! If that isn't cool, then I just dont know what is.... haha imma go to bed. Glad I got this out.