Facefucking Amerikkka, one status update at a time.

Like many people I know, "everyone" not being too steep an exaggeration, I sign into Facebook and find links to articles, music videos, find out my cousin was in town and didn't call me, etc. It took me several months to get over the science fiction freakout that social networking truly is. Once I did, I rolled with it a little. Occasionally I post some rants, music, information, things like that. I "like" certain people's status updates, talk some shit, go through the motions. But I can't help the exacerbated nausea every time I do any of this.
Anything I've ever said on the internet, this included, would have been better exclaimed on the street but that's not where we're at these days.
Could you imagine walking the streets of a major metropolitan area yelling at strangers, "Just booked tix to Vegas, girl! LOL!" or "I absolutely LOVE my little Bryce!" And how are the people on the street to know that Bryce is your ugly goddamn kid,and before they can, you pull out a hundred and fifty five photos of the asshole and shove them in people's faces, to which they shy away slowly until they can run away from this psychopath on the street who can't stop with the assault of useless, personal information. The police would be notified.
It's self-indulgent insanity that won't go over well when the apocalypse comes along. I'm just as guilty as anyone and as a hater, I always embed myself in the hatred. Maybe I just needed to scream into cyberspace and Facebook only allows so many characters.

My cynicism and frustration with all this social networking eased up a little about a month ago when I began reading Facebook and Twitter posts from Egypt, Tunisia and elsewhere. Waves of tearful solidarity washed over me and left me feeling like the world was in fact, real and palpable and not bloodless and lame.
I realized that using all this shit to burn mansions and eradicate despotic regimes, literally and figuratively, even in the face of clampdowns and increased censorship could be an inspiration, as it did set off a wildfire across the world of oppression. Left me with a kind of hope that slogans can't provide. I was really into it for awhile. But soon enough, I could see that for every post of revolutionary information, "Blinded by tear gas but we're holding it down!", there were a hundred posts like, "Tapas and Sangria in the Mission! Tizzziighht!"
I hang my head at the facts staring at me, unblinking, searing holes into my eyes. I don't give a fuck about any of this shallow, insipid bullshit. Can't trussit.
And yet, I hang on and read about the perils of waiting in line (Boo.), no bleu cheese(WTF), bad espresso(sadface), sold out Coachella tickets (Soooo bummmmmmed) and the general, shallow cuntraggery of our time.
So, I'm not above or below any of this, it's just an observation that leaves me low and lazy and fortunate for substance abuse.
Oh well.

I guess I respect the fuck out of my (real life) friends who don't go near the shit. There's about four of them. And family members who are too tired, broke or apathetic for the internet. There's still quite a few of them. And then there's my Grandma who thinks computers are the size of Buick Skylarks and strictly for military scientists in lab coats. Luckily, her brain lives in 1962 and will most likely remain there. She's the greatest woman alive.

And since Facebook is so universal, I know some people's grandmothers are very computer literate and they "like" statuses and network with loved ones. That's ok. But while Facebook is supposedly a "place for friends," I realize more and more that it's actually a place where your Grandma can discover that her grandchildren really are in fact, pot-smoking atheists.
The future keeps pulverizing us. And doesn't slow down for nobody. I find some kind of comfort in it or else I'll jump out the fucking window.

Everyday my brain is repeatedly stabbed with information I don't give a fuck about. But I read on. Because I'm bored and it's always there and I like reading words until I realize they're not real sentences and shit is misspelled.
Or maybe I hang in there out of the same masochism that inclines me to read mainstream sports journalism, watch TV or replace the Visine with LSD. Fuck it.
In between the chiseling away of the worldwide bullshit machine, I guess I'll be around with the rest of you motherfuckers.
LOL OMG 666.

Currensy (Feat. Stalley) - Address

My windows are wide open in winter. While it's usually shallow and uninteresting, obligatory bullshitting with someone who's the only other person in a waiting room or a bus stop or in a long line at your local glory hole, I need to talk about the weather. It's February and I'm enjoying the frightening specter of the apocalypse. Certain goddamn people have left the heat on too long, the house is on fire, "but it's warm and comfortable, can you get me another fig newton?" And then we're all ash.
But in the mean time, the windows are open wide, there isn't even the usual California rain storm around this time that causes local news media to gangbang the public with "STORMWATCH 2011!" Sounds like bad science fiction from some years back.
The sun is shining and I can't complain about it while my friends in Minnesota and New Mexico are literally frozen, barricading themselves indoors with (hopefully) some weed, Nintendo and a fire. Or else they could fucking die. So, I can't say shit about all this sunshine. Even with the lack of seasons in California, it feels strange but I'm always thrown off by something so let it be the summer invading January and February until the nuclear winter forever.
And with my windows open, people will drive by sometimes listening to tight jams, sometimes, and it makes me long for a cruise. I don't need a car and every day I'm not stalled in traffic keeps me another step away from death, but there is nothing like smoking something and driving around in the sun, wide streets, wide seats, metal, chrome, noise, music, wind blowing the brains out of all of the world's horrors. Good times were had.
Here's a jam I might cruise to. It's been out awhile but hasn't been played out. Long live shit.

Back to the Future 4: Shit Gets Real

If more people read this shit, I'd say something about my doing time or getting my left leg amputated in Zimbabwe or my 65 day standoff with the Cochise County Sheriffs that ended it a bloodbath but I escaped to my mountainous lair where all my friends were hanging, waiting, engulfed in a fog of dopesmoke and natural jacuzzi steam...

But none of that happened just yet, I mean the weed part more or less, but nothing so sensational. There have been some life and death situations and some domestic travel that involved pool games with Navajo war veterans and I.E. pit bulls in the back of a '92 Dodge Ram van. Primetime. But for the most part it's been some slow time, some lack of productivity. I'm trying to change this.

The world keeps losing its goddamn mind, I keep climbing beanstalks trying to get a better view but end up climbing higher and higher until I forget about it all. But shit always creeps up, pursues and pulls me down. I only want to be that high on weekends, Sundays in particular, Isley Brothers, Swishers, a real special occasion. There is a kind of high where I can still see, and then get all the work done. Before it's too late.

I say all this and I'll probably go roll one up right now and listen to this Curren$y album all day. Smoke myself blind again. The sun is shining in winter time, I can't let all the negative land mines get to me today. I've been hanging out with this dog. He's so chill, he sleeps through gun shots and firecrackers. This is a good thing.

Keep it rolling. I couldn't think of anywhere else to be or any other way to feel. This is the extent of my reporting on this fine line Thursday afternoon.
Look 'ma I'm a fucking journalist!