Whaaaaaahhh!!!
I am such a huge fucking baby! Not the guy above, he's a "big boy." That toddler is a great kid and so extraordinarily beautiful and wondrous and smart with a whole, new and improved, Barack-world at his feet. He will live to be 104 years-old. He will do things I never imagined possible {and I have a healthy imagination}. I'm just using his photograph for conceptual representation. That's what I do. He's not the baby.
No, I'm the baby. Me. Ty Hardaway. Seriously. Whaaaaaahhh!!! I'm an artist. I need to do my life's work! Whaaaaaahhh!!! I gain spiritual fulfillment based on brilliantly conceived paradigms of self-mythology and intellectual superiority that only like five people understand. Whaaaaaahhh!!! I'm so talented and significant...where's my bah-bah?!
I am always in such a sprint to my ultimate greatness and worldwide, lifelong domination that I sometimes forget to smell roses and ponder blue skys and shit. I sometimes forget that I'm like a mastiff dragging so many midget dog walkers behind me like a cell from a Marmaduke strip {unfunny but illustrative}. I get antsy as fuck when I can't work {it's been that way since forever}. I mean, I'd be a 100% pitiful workaholic, given druthers, and would work and toil and tinker nonstop {with fantasies of nonstop output and production} without regard to time or space or world events or hunger. It's now like if I can't do "significant work" {or at the least make significant process efforts} during Any Given Day, I claim end-of-career and ponder job applications at the Whole Foods or some liquidation firm. Bar continually set higher. Elusive? Perhaps. Perhaps not, because I'm Ty Hardaway®. See?
Intellectually I realize that The Game doesn't work that way--so poppa don't preach to me, I know more about it than you ever will {and I might preach to you about it}. Emotionally and temperamentally...a masterpiece {output or paradigm} a day keeps Jack from being a dull boy. That's fucked up, right? But that's where I am; that's where it's at. I know it and my gang of art assassins know it too. If 2009 is "going to be pretty transformative," if its going to be one massive "molting," if its going to "become a new thing" then this crying like a baby business isn't going to cut it. No winning through whining. So if I have to drag all you all kicking and screaming into the light, so be fucking be it. I'm. That. Good. Nothing can stop us. {See?}
I know, I know...even The Black Beatles took a few days off to chill with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi but they were just fucking lazy ass slackers.
Posts
