Otis

Zef Side

Here Comes the Sun

Monster

Monster - Kanye West ft. Jay-Z, Nicki Minaj, Bon Iver, Rick Ross from guilherme borges on Vimeo.

Booker T and the MG's

U Guessed It

How Everything Works, Don't Pay Attention

There are moments when everyone and everything seems so overwhelmingly stupid that I want to puke and shit all my organs out and die on the spot. It starts with me feeling dumb. Then I start to wonder what else I think makes sense that may also be dumb. Then I notice how dumb people are. Soon I am ready to clothesline anyone who looks wrong.
Dumb fuck stoners rooted for the Seahawks because Marshawn Lynch has dreadlocks and an attitude. That’s their hero. Even though it takes being in a league where he is not allowed to smoke weed to get a platform like that and become a anti-hero for a bunch of insecure wannabe someone they're not flesh statues. A league that suspends people for smoking pot even when they are great at their job. Even in states where it is illegal. And the dreadlocks are a disadvantage: they make helmets fit improperly leading to increased head injuries and also can be grabbed in a tackle or block.
Pete Carroll sucks. The Seahawks are a bunch of good football players who like to boast. Whatever. Football is a game. In the end you don’t run with Marshawn Lynch on second down because the manual says in that situation you go to a pass play to stop the clock and take time to plan out the last 20 seconds. Russell Wilson is good because he doesn’t make mistakes. He doesn’t take risks. He avoid problems and turns them into opportunities. This time someone jumped his route and a wide open dream turned into a shattered reality. Shit happens. It’s football. You make a game plan and you follow it. Marshawn Lynch is not really cool. He’s a reaction to a system. Something that is bound to exist alongside everything else. He is no cooler than Tom Brady or Vince Wilfolk. If he had gotten the ball on 2nd down and fumbled then what? Should it have been a pass? Does Marshawn suck? That’s why you don’t create false gods. Why you don’t get your ideas of people mixed up with the fact that there is an actual person in there who you probably care enough about to not want to destroy. If you build a legend in your head or even let yourself believe in one other people have created then there is a good chance you will lose your chance at peaceful enjoyment of life unfolding. That’s probably not important to you. Or at least you can tell yourself right away that it is silly or that there are other things that supersede that fundamental idea. Or maybe you think you already do that and don't need to be told again.
That’s why saying anything is so dumb. The only people who care are probably pretending. Even if they don’t know it yet. Mistakes happen. Even with good plans and good pieces. A turn is a risk that could get you the same place you started. Sometimes even worse. It’s not just the route or the turns or the changes of plans. It’s staying present on the way. When something good or sad or intense happens there is always a moment to take to yourself and think about what is most important. Then make your next move, your reaction, based around that. Instead of just reacting. That’s what a heart and a brain are for. So we can get to the moment, process it and move forward in the best way. Over and over again. And like it. Or pretend to.

Who Get It (Do You Make the Most of Your Sleepless Nights, Does it Matter)

 

Realistically cigarettes should be sold in packs of five for twenty dollars a piece. Temper tantrums are like protests. Attention and results may follow but victory remains out on the horizon. Squiggly lines are not more interesting than straight ones. I read a piece of paper at a friends house that I shouldn’t have. It was a poem. There was one sentence about not spending time with people who are not excited to see you. That’s part of my memory. 

Sometimes the margin between success and failure is razor thin. A failure can become an eventual success. This is common knowledge. The blueprint for navigation from failure to success is not deep in a cave somewhere or hidden in a high security vault. Although it is. Simple things. "An object in motion stays in motion. An object at rest stays at rest." 

You can touch my radio. But be confident and play something appropriate for the moment. If you are not in tune with the moment do not suggest a vibe. Otherwise the choice between which frequency to tap into is something each individual is perfectly capable of bumbling through on their own. 

There was a funny moment once in a movie written by the guy who was Dave Chappelle’s co-writer. It’s about a car dealership. There’s a DJ who works at the dealership to help attract business. At random moments, otherwise known as the perfect ones, he spins just the right tune for the moment. Towards the end someone requests a song. They comment on how he always plays the wrong songs at the wrong moments. The DJ quietly whispers to himself ‘I will never play what you want me to play.’ Then spins another completely random tune for the moment. That is somehow perfect. 

It’s easy to say out loud what tastes bad about something. It is more difficult to actually figure out how to make something taste good. One of the effects of statistics being incorporated into everything is that the data will start to become less significant the more it is followed. At a certain point, in certain cases, this leads to doubt. The doubt exists because of the success. But it can still defeat it. 

Things snap together as they pass. Connections are easier to draw with more information. The weight of that information can become a challenging load to carry. There are points beyond that. They are embarrassing. What embarrassing means to me is it causes me to take a moment to think about what I’ve done wrong. Process how I feel about it. Then begin to make an effort to move forward. Choosing between right and wrong is an old question. Being a good liar is more important than that question or in being either. That’s what some books say. Some people think.

"Men have imagined republics and principalities that never really existed at all. Yet the way men live is so far removed from the way they ought to live that anyone who abandons what is for what should be pursues his downfall rather than his preservation; for a man who strives after goodness in all his acts is sure to come to ruin, since there are so many men who are not good."  

BFF, Soulmate, Legend

It was four in the morning. My eyes were wet with uncontrollable tears. Each time the emotions hit me it felt like I was performing for an invisible audience. When I became aware of this feeling I’d try to stop my crying only to realize each time that these tears were real tears and they were going to form out of my eye socket then roll down my face whether I liked it or not.
I pulled at the sub zero fridge handle until the suction let loose. Scanned the contents. I almost never eat cream cheese. There is always cream cheese. And lemonade. A pad of ground beef. A steak. Leftover sriracha/oyster/soy sauce mixed in a dipping cup. So many sauces. So many sodas.
I decide on coca cola and a glass of ice. The can I grab says Legend on it where it should say Coca Cola. I stare at it. Look at the three other cans of red. I wonder if they all say Legend.
I set the Legend back in the fridge and pick up another can. This one says Soulmate. I hold the can for a minute. Deciding if I want to be a soulmate or a legend.
I look at the third can. Twist it. It says BFF. That leaves me standing in front of the open fridge for three minutes trying to decide what I wanted most: to be a BFF, to be a Soulmate or to be a Legend. It is a difficult and complicated decision that will be decided by which can I choose.
The ice in the glass has sweat now. That will make me lose out on that optimal first sip where the fizzy cola hits the fresh frozen ice and lets off that spicy sugar gas. I get a new cup with new ice and walk downstairs with all three cans.
One by one I drink the cans. No sip quite as good as the first. By the time the Legend is being finished what’s left of the ice is tiny slivers. The rest of the glass gets forced down and I pick up the can. There is one swig left. It is room temperature and flat. I force it down and wash it away with a fresh cigarette.
The cigarette gets finished in bed. The butt gets dropped in an empty water bottle. One of five that rest in the place where most beds have a second person. The cap twists shut and the bottle is set back where someone’s head should be. Should have drank water. I look at the empty space and shiver from the cold. The blankets have not warmed me yet. Who is keeping her warm right now? Why not me.
Mike and Mike are on ESPN talking about Josh Gordon being high and domestic violence and switches. A guy making $10 billion a year for his company is not doing his job right. There are no plans for today. There is nothing on the horizon. It’s ok though, I still let my eyes close. The light fades away. The sound of the tv replaced by racing thoughts.  My face squinches together tightly. The rims of my eyes get wet. I gasp on a little air and sleep.

Make 'Em Say