Me at an event last week

Yes, I paid money for music: Dirty Nasty (a.k.a. Simon Rex) may seem an unlikely choice if you’ve noticed the other entries mentioning rap on this blog, but the guy is legit in several ways that Rick Ross isn’t.

1. He doesn’t pretend to be anything he’s not (he’s a white, middle-aged actor, who has largely scraped through life on his looks… and he knows it).

2. In an era when hip-hop has become trapped in an endless loop of backward-looking cultural references and hollow posturing, what Dirt does is… different.  I, for one, am tired of hearing Rick Ross rap about his new car; I’d rather hear Dirt rap about how he’s still rolling in a second-hand Honda Civic.  Maybe that just means that I listen to too much rap music to begin with, but it is a breath of fresh air.

3. In terms of a test of skill, when Dirt puts down a freestyle, it is legitimately a freestyle.  Note that even Method Man would just reshuffle previously composed lyrics, e.g., in the legendary 1993 Freestyle… that isn’t really a freestyle [click to hear it].  Although the subject-matter may not be to your taste, when Dirt says, "I’ve got lawsuits like a baby, you can catch me naked at Old Navy", he is legitimately making that up off the top of his head as he goes along (that’s in his Back-of-the-Bus Freestyle [click to hear it on youtube]).

In 2013, there’s a lot of free music on the internet (produced by unknowns like Piff Marti, and established artists like Raekwon, too)… but, yeah, I paid the price (in Euros, no less) partly because Dirt has already put out a stack of free albums, and partly because his music is (simply) different from the music I’m already drowning in.

Finally trimmed the flow

Showed up to my last final exam dressed for tennis

Peal & Co. Bluchers

Easter service wear

I hope the older dude is paying attention because the kid is stylin' on him.

"Excuse me father can you please tuck your shirt in and what the fuck is happening at the hem of your pant legs?"

Don’t fall in love with a curious one. They will want to know who you are, where you come from, what your family was like. They will look through your photographs and read all of your poems. They will come over for dinner and speak to your mother about how their curiosity has taught them things of use to her. They will ask you to rant when you’re angry and cry when you’re hurt. They will ask what that raised eyebrow meant. They will want to know your favorite food, your favorite color, you favorite person. They will ask why. They will buy that camera you liked, pay attention to that band you love in case there’s a show near by, they will get you the sweater you smiled at once. They’ll learn to cook your favorite meals. The curious people don’t settle for your shell, they want the insides. They want what makes you heavy, what makes you uneasy, what makes you scream for joy, and anger, and heartbreak. Their skin will turn into pages that you learn to pour out your entire being in. Don’t fall in love with the curious one. They won’t let a sigh go unexplained. They will want to know what they did Exactly what they did to make you love them. Year, month, week, day. “What time was it? What did I say? What did I do? How did you feel?” Don’t fall in love with a curious one because I’ve been there. They will unbutton your shirt and read every scar every mark every curve. They will dissect your every limb, every organ, every thought, every being then walk back home and eat their dinner and never return your calls. You will never be their lifelong expedition. The heart is a mystery only for so long. There is no ache like loving a curious one who chases every falling star and never catching one. Who comes and sees and conquers and leaves. I’ve fallen in love with a curious one. Maybe one day he will take the train back home and be curious enough to read one last message from me carved on a seat. “There’s a curiosity in you that will move mountains some day as effortlessly as you’ve moved me for years.

Don’t Fall In Love With The Curious One (via ha-lay-na)

What I wore for the walk down to Palm Sunday service in alternating sun/blizzard, plus the bag my Pastor gave me after I complimented him on it. Apparently its like 20 years old, can't find a brand.

Eating gelato and studying economics with my ex at cafe down the street, the cafe owners snapped a picture of us to put on their website.

I rarely reblog cars but that pastel green Ferrari is a beaut

This is kind of out of season now