“Forever in debt to your priceless advice…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m smoking on the balcony in the chill, Oklahoma night.

 

See, smoking is banned in my building.

 

But sub-woofers aren’t.

 

Lucky me.

 

1600+ miles and hip-hop bullshit follows. ¹

 

 

 

My downstairs neighbor practices for his rap-yodeling career as his lack of consideration coupled with my dearth of blood-borne nicotine has me contemplating painting his walls an intriguing shade of brain with a tire-iron.

 

I continue to like the place but it reminds me that I’m still stuck in “the land of the ‘me’; home of the slaves”. ²

 

Where everyone seems to fuck everyone else but nobody really orgasms.

 

Where we’re all just left with that stupid, fake grin on our faces; muttering “Yeah, it was good for me, too”, when we really mean:

 

“G☼ddamn, what have done with my day life?”

 

 

 

No wonder I fell – head first – into the ‘sphere.

 

I mean, damn, we’re all freaks, weirdos, malcontents and outlaws.

 

But at least we stop for a second, if only once in a while, to ask:

 

“Is this really how things should be?”

 

 

 

We’re the ones that, during the two-minute hate, just hold what we’re supposed to be throwing at the boogeyman-of-the-day, stare at it dumbly – like a dog whose master brought a new baby into the house – and wonder why no one else is wondering.

 

Regardless, flawed as we all are:

 

I’ll take us over the frothing masses any day.

 

 

 

 

Ω

 

 

 

¹ = I’ve already been accused of being racist for hating rap/hip-hop, so save such moronic nonsense. Besides, I can name more black musicians than you can, if you try to call me out; Delta bluesmen taught me everything about guitar-playing. Thus, if anything, defame me for “co-opting black culture”.

 

 

² = Is it wrong to quote my own work?

 

My slow-going, in-production memoir? 

 

Fuck it; I’ll spray what I like on my own digital wall.

 

 

PS – This post’s title and song were chosen very, very intentionally.

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13 Responses to ““Forever in debt to your priceless advice…””

  1. […] “Forever in debt to your priceless advice…” […]

  2. ‘An intriguing shade of brain with a tire-iron.’ You have a way with words, my friend.

  3. Zombies, and Vampires, and Liches, on all sides.

  4. So.

    There are many who are forever in debt to your priceless advice.

    The question is – whose advice are you in debt to?

    I’m sure it wasn’t all just the school of hard knocks and first hand experience.

    Wald

    • Actually it was a degree from the School of Hard Knocks, a master’s from Suffering University and, most of all, 5 gold stars from the Kindergarten of Forced to Eat Shit While Being Told It’s Ice-Cream.

  5. Flawed? Like someone trying to cover what is maybe Nirvana’s best song?

    The “So what” stare that we give to the masses and their Flavor of the Day is so disarming to them. They literally have no idea how to react.

    • More like “thanks for the advice that was far-harder won that it should’ve been”.

      And that, even in the ‘sphere “I’ve got a new complaint” about what gets called “game” or “self-improvement”.

      Side note: the two of us would have the world’s greatest road-trip together. Our music tastes are crazy similar.

  6. Smoking is becoming the last refuge of the scoundrel.

    The last unifying force amongst the malcontents, the dirty secret, the guilty pleasure.

    Bonds are formed over cigarettes, from the sales guys grabbing time to themselves at tradeshows to the down and out bums who I’ll give a cigarette to.

    Shared advice over the carcinogenic smoke carries a certain potency.

  7. […] “Forever in debt to your priceless advice…” (Lana Del Ray Cover of Nirvana – Heart Shaped Box) […]

  8. […] normal college, you don’t accrue student loans while attending the School of Hard Knocks because you tend to pay up-front for each lesson. Still, the costs of these kinds of lessons can be […]

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