Last time it was Mos cooing Puuuure hearrrrrt/You’re suuu-per cool.
You’re super cool
You’re live and elemental
You’re sweet and you’re true
You’re so true
You’re plain and yet so special
It’s nothing like you
Wearing black on the outside because black is how you feel on the inside. Corona, which goes down smooth and easy. Beer that doesn’t taste terrible (most beer does). Beer that makes you think of the phrase In Corona, it’s better to take than to receive.
“I don’t get high as I used to; Vince Carter.” This week consisted of that new Don Trip mixed tape, 57 Minutes of Tennessee Accents Over Fiery Beats.
Oh Jay Elec, with the aura so contrived, the voice of a physics teacher that makes me want to sleep the day away (Mr. Hahn, 11th grade). After giving him two chances, then a third one because I’m a nice person, I have yet to be impressed. And he never talks about his mouth meeting up with ladies’ private parts, so why should I give him a fourth or a fifth chance? First person to email me a lyrical snippet of his that I find touching or skillful gets to make me breakfast in the morning after giving me a nice go ’round the night before. I’m familiar with allllll his lyrics so the odds are really in my favor here. Dudes get SO mad at me about this! Teehee. Settle down,
Jettttttt Liiiiiiife. Mistakes that somehow make a thing fresher than it already is (Currrrrrrrrren$y).
BUTTON-UPS LOOKIN LIKE CHRISTMAS. Bowing your head in reverence, averting your eyes. Just fucking needing, and taking, a moment to yourself when the right stuff is in your headphones.
Notebooks. Outfit changes. Looking really fresh. Dodger blue, which is a shade somewhere among “cerulean,” “Dumile’s t-shirt,” and “LA street sign.” Annnnd once again, I’ve reached my ogling capacity.
The casting of that Rae biopic is on point. Mostly I’m looking forward to lots of Champion sweats.