Friday, January 14, 2005
The only way I could be more slammed at el trabajadore is if akeem olajuwon and clyde drexler walked in the door and did the h-town shuffle all up & down my spine, and not the h-town yer thinking, er, well, maybe yah, the real h-town, not the one on an island, the one in the vast resorvoir of hickness that is texas. Yup. Texas is cool. At least the airports. Fuck I don’t know whut I’m talking about. Lots of time in dallas airport, some in Houston airport, never walked out the door though so couldn’t tell ya. Fuck. Sidetracked again.
I got a really insanity acred mix cd from my holmes, not Sherlock, which included two songs of note. The first is a duet with paul barman and mf doom. You do the math. The 2nd is a classic sneaker pimps jam, that “find yourself” one, which I played out in the 90’s until I couldn’t listen to it anymore, and I was surprised, pleasantly, to find that the expiration had expired on its played outness and it was fresh and new again and surprisingly unique and non-dated. I’d highly recommend if that shit is in your cupboard collecting rust and or dust you liberate it and pop it in the nearest music playing receptacle and hit play.
I’m discovering that some things, this included, that appeared to be a ward on the wheel of progress are in fact greasing the sprockets and inhibiting that which I thought inhibited me. And these items vary in ways you could not or possibly could imagine. It’s almost like stimulating the mind follows through in other avenues to generate revenue, not just in the monetary sense, but in the complete wherewithal sense, that was not up until said point observed.