You know that feeling when you get so high, off of whatever gets you high, then comes the next day and your no longer high anymore, your waking up and it feels like everything changed why you were gone.
The world was so beautiful and vibrant, you were so in tune and free while the night and your high were harmonizing. Now the next day everything seems dimmer and uglier, including you.
That beautiful thing that made perfect sense last night is smashed to pieces or gone.
Like Bruce Banner when he comes to, after being the Hulk, and his clothes are all shredded and he doesn't know where he is or what happen... I forgot where I was going with this but anyway, just riff with me.
Last night was accented by Salem's "Jettison Band"; the sophisticated sounds of Dam Funk; the flavors of home brewed all grain beers; the smell of smoke infused into clothes from a blazing firepit; the overall hysterical mixture of all these things affecting random people and punctuated only by the late rising sun scraping it's way upwards into a marbled ham colored morning sky.
15th and Lee, in the thick of things, and not a cop or a fight. Lots of cool people like the McMinnimens brewmaster. A very sober and kind couple that work with steel and craft metals. We got excited talking about 'shipping container houses' and infinite possibilities. T' s mom loved the music and had a great time laughing and dancing. Wish I could say the same for T since it was technically her birthday party. All I am willing to say is... nevermind, it's not important anyway.
My resolve to not settle for the fat girl with the okay face thats getting more likable with every drink is strengthened. No, instead I will hold out for the petite hot blonde that likes to play drums and shoot pool.
Anyway my cups empty so I get more beer and drink and try to be a good friend and dodge the fat chick and dig the hot chick.
The freestyle session was lame. Not feelin' it at all. Then I got drunker and the dead weight cleared out and I lost my self and turned into the hulk with a microphone. I love it while it's happening but in hindsight I really hate it when that happens.
Knowing what it means to 'relapse' makes it difficult to really enjoy it but no easier to avoid.
Clutchy Hopkins, classic WuTang and MF Doom got me and my old friend 'E' riffin' about music and life and everything. Its always heavy talking with E who appears to be only slightly distracted by the pitiful puppy whimpers of his girlfriend. She wants Mexican food. Now.
Musically, for the evening, I once again have to tip my hat to Jettison Band with there earthy natural sound and chemistry. A real treat, it's a shame only a few took the oppurtunity to listen compared to the crowd that gathered to hear us spew our poorly executed nonesense.
Also, I must choose carefully the words used to describe the music created by one 'Dam Funk'. Really, there are no words. Not since Clutchy Hopkins have I heard such sophisticated beautiful profoundly moving music. I love Stones Throw like I love Ubiquity for signing such talent and making it readily available.
Dam Funk is music genius. You could be a little kid on rollerskates chewing bubblegum laughin' and being innocent or you could be the hardest gangster OG killer in the yard or street pumpin weights or reppin you set; either way Dam Funk will be your favorite shit on repeat easily after you hear it. It's like speaker crack.
It's funny how the music we listen to during these long summer nights seem to get forever engraved with the accents and broken pieces of those forever good times, now long gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment