Wednesday, December 30, 2009
It finally hit me today that the tiny Hero of Hollygrove is going away on some weapons charge! Mixtapes and the coke market, prepare to feel the pain.
I literally got sad sitting here in apt. 302 in response to hearing about Wayne's performance at the New Orleans Arena days before he gets sentenced, which is ridiculous proof that the Internet's constant information flow about everybody's life causes me to feel like I'm best friends with every rapper. This sadness is obviously related to my newly-found allegiance to the Saints as the Greatest Football Team In the History of Televisions Watched in Apt. 302, and my affection for the city of New Orleans in general going way back to when I was a kid (Dr. John & the Meters, plus that Randy Newman song about the flood. Thanks, Mom). It's also related to the fact that I can't deny my feelings that Wayne is sincere in everything he does. I'm naïve, I can't help it, but I feel like there's no pretense with him. So when he screams, "I'm nothing without you" to the hometown crowd, it's this combination of sweet and sad mixed with his uncut gratitude that makes me shed a little tear. A primal response to male vulnerability, that's all it is; suddenly, boom, I'm reminded that I'm not so evolved after all. I change shapes just to hide in this place but I’m still, I’m still an animal!/Nobody knows it but me.
Wayne leaving that awful Drake to pinch-hit for him during his absence (ugh), and Wayne missing our mighty Lakers making their impression felt this season by cutting a destructive path through the jungle infested with inferior NBA teams. Dr. Carter, while you're locked up I'll be sending you updates on division standings and Ron-Ron's latest batch of crazy. Also: naked pics of myself. For now, I left a half a hundred in your commissary. Stay strong, buddy.
An obvious choice, but orchestral ear candy trumps obscurity every time. And the fact remains that '98 trumps '09 every time. Go Clef!
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*You're a bad person, Mark Ronson, for making me like your remixes even though you're a derivative wanker who probably has bad teeth. Anyway: Miike Snow, plus horns.