I'm not sure if this year Halloween falls on a weekend or not, which doesn't matter much because the weeks don't end so much as blend in together with seven straight days of obligations across a latitudinal line of the calendar, back to the left like a typewriter from 1973, and back at it, no pause, few spaces, bad grammar, whiteout never touching the onion skin of my life, hoping there is a god with a big book so I can have someone else proofread my actions and distractions once the lungs stop filling up with hazy air and the heart stops pumping the corn syrup thinned out blood, and tell me how it all reads. From where I sit, it's an ugly story, and inherently a tragedy, though there's plenty of one-liners mixed into to spray paint some silver lining. Thing about one-liners is there's a long psychology of preamble and meandering experiences to get there, and lay the foundation for those one-liners.
You know the only person who really has done screwed music as good as Screw? OG Ron C. He did the best of Rap-a-Lot mix, and that's what this is from. Sometimes when I hate the world but love myself yet hate myself and love the world, I like to lock up in a small place, like the camper trailer, which is stacked with boxes now that I'm trying to renovate my goddamned 1907 house into something more accommodating for my growing brood of pullet children, and light candles and get my mind all twisted around some substance or another, which has lately been mostly what is left of the gruit ale homebrew I made with a few droppers full of wild lettuce tincture from the ol' lady's apothecary mixed in, and just blast some fucking tweaked out Rap-a-Lot. Finding the OG Ron C screwed Rap-a-Lot's Greatest Hits to steal inside the internets (thanks Sicknote the #1 Limey and MP3 MVP) was a godsend, because it fits well into the dusty dark corners of my 2010 brain.
STEAL "Mind Playin' Tricks On Me"
NEXT UP: Space is the place in the place to be.
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