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Diaryland |
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2004-03-11 - 5:16 p.m. So, my brother escorted me out of the Graham compound and I think the Bob Dylan cd was blaring on the stereo. We spoke briefly about how our boy Tim lives in the area. I don't remember much more then that. I drifted in and out a couple of times and then I drifted in to the familiar sight of pulling up to that house on the hill we call home. I managed to stumble into my room, do the normal routine of stripping my clothes and throwing them to the floor, AKA "My closet" and then I commenced on hooking up my Bi-Pap.........Doing that shit drunk and half conscious is about the worst shit you can do. Just imagine, you want to fucking sleep and you got to put on headgear and change the water out of the humidifier, put on the chin strap so you don't have the worst dry mouth ever in the morning, then re-hook in the tubes, adjust the straps, put on the sleep mask, and turn the bitch on and try to get comfortable...........and you're doing this all in the dark mind you.......oh yeah, and as an added bonus I set my alarm for 9am.........I must of got home around 4-ish AM and I set it to 9am. I set it to 9am because my boy Steve was like, "Let's go record shopping!!" and me being the seasoned digger and he, the wet-behind-the-ears DJ, I told him to get up early so we could hit up the Jazzman at Northpoint....and hell, we'd make a day out of it too....He also wanted to drive around and check for spots to "Get up" on his graffiti game, so it appeared to be a happening day in the works........ Turns out I wake up at 9am, I'm not seriously hung over......but I don't quite feel like blowjobs n' steaks if you know what I'm sayin' and I try callin' that mutha fucka up to no avail.....I swear his family never answers the phone. Apparently, I figured out that he was still watching his brother run at some collegiate cross country shit........least the mutha fucka could do was call, but nah......he and his family gotta stay circa-1967 with the technology. So, I'm fucked up, tired, and too angry to just be defeated, so I call up my boy John L. who is always down, and we get up and get to the business of digging in the crates. After that, I was feeling much better. We got sandwiches from Dipasquale's and I was soon rollin' back in some post-drunk, euphoric bliss. We didn't make it to Northpoint, but we hit up the ghetto Value Village on Eastern and then off to El Suprimo afterwards. I dropped serious loot there on god knows what, Italian electro covers of "Whole Lotta Love?!?!?!:" Yeah, anyways, I ended up spending WAAAY too much money over there, but what can I say, you got an addiction, you're in a fucked up mindstate, and you got money to burn.....I don't regret it, I did get some gems.......but yeah, restraint got thrown out the window. After debilitating the bank account, it was time to cash in early. Everett calls and we were supposed to meet with him and Steve in Bmore, which never happened and I tell him the obscene amount of loot I dropped. John L and I then drive back and he's hearing the Dre's "Love Below" album for the first time and we're sippin' on drinks and he's feelin' it....which most people often do............and on a side note here, OUTKAST is broken up and that's a good thing, leavin' on top......You don't know what you got, till it's gone.....didn't you learn anything from cheese 80s ballads?!?!? It wouldn't be great if they didn't break. Anyways, John and I are jammin' and I'm half dead.......all of it a blur, just some scratchin' and some dancin' on repeat then I took him home......I can't remember much else. Later on that week, Nick and I go to this jam called TIGHTEN UP....which is a thing Suprimo and other DJs throw down funk and soul at some Lithuanian hall....which he recommended me too, which is the least he could do, running away with all that cash I drop on him. He said the place was usually popping, lots of dancing, I could dig it. We get there though, nothing poppin'.....You got the regulars of the hall sittin' all on one side of the bar, drinking Utenos and shit and on the other side, you got these "I'm too cool to dance" hipsters in pleather jackets and shit and motorcycle shirts. Shit was whack head to toe. The only thing that wasn't whack was the beer and the fine lady DJ spinning. God damn she was fine. I'm tellin' you, I was smitten, a fine ass grrl, spinnin' soul records....in some dress that looked like it stepped out of some "Archie and Veronica" comic book.........god damn, I was stupified. She had more soul then Motown, and was mo' phatter then Stax! Amanda Otto, I am smitten...truly.... But alas, most of the night was spent in complaining about the state of "Hip" and "Hipsters" with Nick and just how sad it is. We were scanning the room, looking at everyone, analyzing what we thought they were thinking at said moments. The punk chick with the spiked hair and the bubblegum pink.......saying HEY! ATTENTION PLEASE! getting ever so drunk while aging hipsters hit on her.......with her friend in tow, looking sad, wondering why she came, saying to her more then once "REMEMBER, YOU'RE DRIVING ME HOME..."......the okay girl and the ugly friend, trying to coax a free drink outta Nick.......that shit was funny.........telling us when they were leaving, that was great......all the leather jacket clad....trying so hard to be as Euro trash as possible......sitting in the corner.......table covered in beer bottles.....the old man out of place with the flop haircut dancing to Amanda Otto's selection well, I think he thought it was dancing, it sorta looked like a low-impact arm exercise....the only people Nick and I respected were the regulars and the the bartender....at least he was dancing....one of the regulars offered Nick a slice of pizza..and of course that mutha fucka ate it...... I asked Suprimo if I could throw down earlier that evening maybe at a future jam, because I wanted to get up........but after watching what I saw.........and talking with him, I realized the whole thing just sickened me to a point. I was livid leaving that shit early. Before Mr. Pablo got on......and that guy......I don't know........just seems like ASSHOLE radiates off his body......he's pretty slick........for real, I'd rather sit there and talk shit with the regulars.....the only soul there....other then the music.
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