Monday, August 22, 2005

iCon vs. Copywrite


word along the underground hip hop wires is that at some point during scribble jam this rapper named Copywrite got his jaw tapped by another rapper named iCon. sources divulge that Copywrite, known for his braggadocios rhymes that proclaim him mentally, as well as physically, superior to most other rappers, has seen his clocked rocked on numerous occasions, most notably a recent altercation with 5'4" rapper Bow Wow that left him dazed and mumbling on the way to St. Vincent hospital in New York. i guess that iCon knocked this Copywrite cat cold the fuck out on the stage at scribble jam, and that now Copywrites career is pretty much done. even though i was there, i must have missed it. maybe i was taking a piss or smoking a cigarette or something.

************

but i was there in the wood and my eyes were wide open and it was raining from the sky and all the trees were raining too.

it was a different crowd than mine. an entirely different scene. there were 4 couples, three with kids, a single mother with her kid, two other single men and a young lesbian couple who smoked weed that i tried to bond with but the top said she was buddhist so sharply i realized there wouldnt be time. there were 7 dogs. there were four kids, ages 2 to 5 [5 and 1/2].

and it was raining and it was clean and the moist air opened up my smoke stained sinuses. the ground was so wet that no one wanted to walk through it, so everyone stayed in the one room cabin and tried to fine the space in which to enjoy themselves.

[it had been a long friday night. a long bus trip to boston. a long wait at the bar. a long time before they called last call. a long way from home. a long time alone. a long friday night indeed.

and i woke up early to drive with a stranger to maine. she was nice. i made small talk. i was charming. i was polite and opinionated and had a wealth of interesting topics to discuss. the precious beauty of driving across the country. the autobiography of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. the farm she was raised on. horror movies. the weather. eyes.

but when we got to the cabin it was raining and everyone was inside. there was only two familiar faces and thats really only one. there was small nervous talk and i sat down and tried to read a little. then i began to feel rude so i stopped. the 5 year old ask me if i want to play a puzzle and his mother tells him to leave me alone and then she smiles at me apologetically and i feel cursed and lonely and out of place.]

my friend keeps asking if im having a good time i dont look like im having a good time it sucks that its raining i know are you sure youre ok? and i assure her i am and i wipe my sweaty palms on the thick chair cushions and excuse myself for a cigarette. a cigarette turns into a spliff.

i go back inside. my stomach turns over in its self and ask why i hadnt eaten since the morning before. my hands are sweating furiously, i try not to make eye contact and scan the table for my book. the room is buzzing in a thousand different octaves. cards are shuffling and recipes are being confessed. someone starts pouring tequila shots and some people are turning them down and im trying to tell someone in my most scholarly voice about a sad documentary i saw about a hijacking in brazil. the noise rises into a dull riot and i start to get paranoid about my breath and my dirty jeans and the mood is a blur and someone ask me if ive seen their daughter and someone else ask me what i did last night and before i can answer the 4 year old ask me where he can find toads and if i wanted to help him find some toads.

i froze up in front of that kid. paralyzed by all my past and all my future and right then everything was collapsing inside and i didnt know where i was or why i was there or where i was going and i was stuck on the verge of tears and tired and stoned and every cell in my body felt sensitive and all i could think was dont start crying in front of this kid dont you fucking dare start crying in front of this kid. im having a minor breakdown and its probably because of the weed or the lack of sleep. i wipe my palms on the thick chair cushions and take a swig of my beer and the kid leaves before i say anything. i slide off the chair onto the floor and put a pillow on my face and take a nap.

at night i slept in the master bedroom while everyone else pitched tents under the rain. the next day the sun came out and i swam in the river. every other kid had left except the one that wanted to find toads. so i took him down a grassy path and we found one and he took it home in a plastic container with holes punched into the top.

1 Comments:

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:gray matters: by jkg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at downtownalleys.blogspot.com.