Email #1 from Acquaintance: So hey, lunch? heard the last couple of hours before your submission deadline got pretty crazy and dramatic. Atleast you got it done on time right? How’re you feeling?
Email Response from me: YES to lunch. And yeah, those last couple of hours were something else … so glad that shit’s over with. Projects are like relationships yknow? And this submission? I thought I clicked with her. I thought we could go all the way, drama free. So for months I tried to woo her. I stood by her, ready to catch her in case she ever slipped. I held her close and took care of her every need. And then yesterday, I thought I’d finally won her over. So when the moment was just right, I took a deep breath and made my move. I leaned in for a kiss and slid my hands up her thighs. And that’s when her rainbow-coloured penis dropped onto my palms. I looked down at it, my mind racing uncontrollably, my eyeballs bulging out of its sockets. And that’s when the rainbow penis farted at my face. And I was like: WTF! WHAT THE FUCKKKING FUCKKK FUCKKK FUCKKK. U LED ME ON! HOW COULD U NEVER HAVE TOLD ME YOU HAD A FARTY RAINBOW PENIS! SWEET BABY SATAN, WHAT IS THAT ISHHHT EVEN? THIS IS SOME INEXPLICABLE WHAT-THE-WHATTT ISHHHT FOR REAL. HOW/WHEN/Y??? I. DONT. EVEN. HAVE. THE. WORDS. BAILAAAMOS, LET THE RHYTHM TAKE YOU OVER BAILAAAMOS, TE QUIERO AMOR MIO BAILAAAMOOOOSSS! WHAT THE FLYING FUCKKK FUCKKK FUCKKK.
I was just so dumbfounded @ how quickly my pretty world was shattering into ugly smithereens, yknow?
Anyway, the project and I are no longer an item and that’s basically how yesterday felt like.
Email #2 from Acquaintance: Remind me to NEVER ask you how you feel.
“GQ: Would you rather get your legs and arms broken by a rhinoceros or change your name to Walla Walla Bing Bang?
Waka: I’d rather change my name. I don’t want my arms and legs broken by no damn rhinoceros. That’s got to be one of the most painful things in the world.”—
“Equilibrium is no longer the goal - the scales must be destroyed. Let me hear you promise again all those sunny things you carry inside you. Let me try to believe for one day, while I rest in the open that the sun brings good tidings. Let me rot in splendour while the sun bursts in your womb.”—Henry Miller (Tropic of Capricorn)
I never said I’m ready to die, but I accept it Never said I’m ready for war, but I’m protected I don’t even know when it’s comin’, but I expect it Lost all semblance of hope, so now I’m left with Nervous conditions, addictions, in addition to vixens that mixed in with the wrong crowd My life is on a flight that’s goin’ down My mother had an abortion for the wrong child Well, the time I felt love, that’s gone now Been replaced by purple rains and some storm clouds Misery love misery So why make friends? Let’s make some enemies… Now I’m in a marriage that wasn’t meant to be One more reason to change identity The cars, the crime, cage, penalties
Yeah so…. someone named P.O.R.N has my favourite verse on this track. Malik B and Black Thought sort of flirt with anxiety, depression and dependency on their respective verses but they always puff it with a certain degree of bravado. But when P.O.R.N get his turn, he just dives right off the cliff into his downward spiral. No strings attached, no holds barred. I mean come on…”My mother had an abortion for the wrong child”? “Misery love misery, so why make friends, let’s make some enemies”??? Dayyynggg.