Oh Shit Son!!!

I have an almost backed bag, a little cash, a one-way ticket to Oakland, and hope, and 2 hours before I leave the house for my flight. Oh, and of course I got Ambien for the flight.

I have not the slightest clue as to what will happen from here on out, but this feeling of uncertainty brings me back to the only other time in life that no one is ever fully cognizant of its ramifications. The time I am referring to is the loss of innocence--losing virginity. This is truly one of the only times, if not the premier event, that you have NO clue on what it all means. You know how Steve Carell in The 40-year Old Virgin is so productive before he has sex? Far be it from me, but it makes you wonder how different life would be without sex. Life actually starts when you loss your virginity. Everything unfolds and accordingly falls into play simply because you had sex for the first time. Alcohol consumption is founded upon sex, as is war, children books, and paganism.

Really take a moment to not only reflect on what I am trying to get at, but use your own personal narrative. I don't want to write too much on this, I am feeling lazy I won't lie. But losing one's virginity opens the world up in so many ways. Literally everything you do is a chain reactions stemming from initial intercourse.

Done?

Whatever I Have Lost (Ch.5)

Chapter 5

In there. The beginning is a dry heave. I hate that shit and already did a little of that earlier today. I hate to repeat shit that’s not that tight; so all you ladies that think I like to break hearts it not that. I just don’t want to repeat shit that’s…I love you. Now I’m in there. It starts to flow like my freestyle—fluid but not quite what you want, at least at that particular time. I can say it. The hottest might annoy those who choose to stay cold. To each their own but to me life’s a poem. Approximately three separate occasions took place. Pink with chunks of white. I woke up with Taco Truck grinning like the girl you know shouldn’t have stayed the night. Actually she shouldn’t have been the night but if I can bring a smile to friends’ faces with a story its all glory. And so it goes for most the troop with tropes. Either way maybe consuming the food of Los Angeles, Mexico explains the dye of Valentine’s Day purged as my collegiate summation.

It burns. There has been quite the unusual gap between expulsions in my life, which is welcomed but does that mean I haven’t been on my job? Throw up brings the mind to three destinations. First, the countless nights back home in NY, using cabs as British women in my bed and throwing up on/in them. In them? I just pulled the two-for-one insight into my life. Nah, not in them. But Brooklyn go hard. And yeah I’ve thrown up on a girl one night and by the morning there was no evidence. So peculiar that she began to think it didn’t happen. I feel bad about that one. Second, a close friend during college would usually get too fucked up at our parties—most parties—then proceed to crucify biology (and physics as there is a reversal of space and time) for the next day. The sounds were wretched. Lastly, another friend’s girlfriend-at-the-time threw up in a bag and hyped up its weight in gold, beige, or off-white. She won a lot of respect that night. She was hilarious. Who really screams “Feel this shit!” as they sit sick on a couch, slightly hunched over but upright enough to let you know it’s all good. Paper or plastic? It was paper because we hit up Trader Joe’s for the upscale nutrition, downscaled price of wine, and breads that may or may not already be molding.

Not to have another aside or anything but… THIS couch is cut from a different cloth; a weathered cloth. The couch this girlfriend rejoiced on is the bouncer of the backyard. Imagine: the two couches mentioned thus far are in the living room. If hell can be raised indoors then the Devil lets his dog roam outside when it gets too big for the house. This couch has never seen better days. I have, both had sex and not had sex by this couch. Once was a multi-hour hump session; who has dry sex in the rain? The second time I actually fucked someone and that was just as traumatic. Not the sex, but what brought me there was my favorite player and 2006 MVP, Dirk Nowitzki, losing in the first round to Golden State. Most of my friends are either from the Bay Area or like to see my depressed. These circumstances led me to sex. The couches are what I say they are. And they second all of these notions.

As I knew when I would throw up, I already considered the irony but this expected foreshadow (i.e. super consciousness) does not coax the mind. While brushing teeth I foresaw my displeasure with cleaning a mouth simply to throw up in it. I didn’t stop brushing because you never know if that buzzer-beater 3-point shot is going to drop or not. I mean I know and so do many clutch players but we all have doubts. So, I’m finishing up the reflection of 4-years flushed down a toilet. My tongue surveys to taste the ghost town of freshness. One would put a quote to bring it home but fuck that, we all know what a thrown up mouth tastes like, throw up. I’m a Crest kid so I have a little bit of sparkle left, and with that I have decided not to re-brush my teeth. We got other remedies.

Labor Day!!! Lick A Shot Pon' Dem.

Came home to house smelling dank as fuck. As I turn my head 'round the corner I see my father sitting on the couch in the living room with my mother. He says, "Don't interrupt our puff puff party." I looked at my mother sternly and said, "You better not have been smoking." He replies, "Smoking like your little sister doesn't smoke." To which I continued my gaze unto her soul and stated, "You better not have been not smoking like my little sister."

My moms doesn't smoke but we all do. She better not!

But really...what if the Devil looked like this. And his name was Enrique but everyone and God called him Gay Gary.

First Satuday of College Football!!!!!

This picture is of a place in Kalimpong, Darjeeling District, West Bengal, India. This is trash. Know what else is trash? Besides The Knicks, hipsters/Williamsburg, and no sex on the first night? The game. Not like the rapper, Game, but the hip-hop game. Everyone knows this, so I'm not stating anything new. Yet, Shay and I were having a discussion over our weekly Saturday blunt brunch about the hip-hop game and how its full of biters. Now, most hip-hop critics hate the game right now because of the content. Others, hate it because its old--made of old people and stale. All these are true, but we're talking about the fact that the game features a lot people jackin' beats, stealing hooks and gimmicks. Its absurd. All you have to do is hear some cat's shit, bite it, and you'll get radio play. By biitng someone else, you start a trend. Its really just a trend of biters.

Okay, so I have been asked multiple times to address a particular matter. I feel that the picture I have taken above, as well as the MoMa endorsed fine/post-modern/Japanese Hibiscus infused art below, fits the mold in which I will also lay this matter out. Bad weaves and saggy titties.
To be honest, I know they are horrible but I didn't know it was an issue to address in an offline, non-interent blog arena. I have grown in a household where every summer I went on vacation and was to bring my Dad back a vulgar--usually sexually vulgar--t-shirt. From these t-shirts, as a young boy, probably staring around 8 years-old, I know about 30 different types of breast. I have supplemented that completely gender perpetuating statement by way of experience with various types as well. I'm rabbling and I haven't even gotten started. Bad weaves are disrespectful. They disrespect the person and their perceived sense of self. They disrespect the profession of hairstyling. But they disrespect the viewer most importantly. I don't like to be disrespected and I especially don't wish to be disrespected while you disrespect yourself as well. Then we're all fucked.

Saggy breasts on the other hand are not disrespectful. They are not intentionally harmful. Its just embarrassing. I don't even feel comfortable talking about this, and I won't. As I said before, I have been asked multiple times to speak on these issues. By a girl. If you asked.

This Is Why People Pray

So, B-Fal asked me: "What would it be like if the dog who stole your soul looked like this...Whoa!!
To say the least, I could only think of two scenarios that could spawn such a sight. The first thought that came to mind is under the assumption that the dog looked like this BEFORE stealing my soul. Were that to be the case then I really would be dead because this beast is only of burdens. Most representations of the Grim Reaper depict a cloaked skeleton but if all dogs go to heaven then this bitch is most likely to be what's under the hood.

Now, the second idea is more my speed because I can be tangential with it. So if the dog that stole my soul first looked like the smug-faced little rascal from post of old and then turned into said Tales From The Crypt above, that would mean I have done too many fucked up things in my life. Some say animals don't have a soul. I believe they do but for the sake of hilarity were the shih-tzu to not have one, and then harbor mine, my soul would undoubtedly be corrupt. In short, my soul has proverbial rabies. Yeah, Akrag and Da Team did it big but I don't think I'm the worse. Honestly, my soul would look like this...I mean formerly agile but was eating good for a minute; that lion-esque mane hints to prestige and decorum; standing on the American flag like the true O.G. I am. Also, that shit's in the hospital trying to rehabilitate itself. That's like what my girl is doing for me: taking me and shaping me up out of my old ways.

But as I write this I just realized that while I caught eye contact with the dog, its not like I was only paying for my sins. Baby cakes was there as well, and though I'll sacrifice for her maybe I'm not all bad. Yet, I damn sure don't want any of these shits to be her soul. I do know a couple of ladies that no doubt have the soul of the gnarly dog. Haha, name six you know and forward this to 10 friends. If they send you six different ones back you'll have good luck and know that you didn't sleep with the same chicks and probably don't have the same STD's. That's what forwards should really be used for.