Rappers and Employment.

Are mainstream rappers actually subliminal not-so-subliminal narcissists? I mean all they do is talk about how awesome they are and fuck you up if you don’t tell them how awesome they are.

By the way I have a job interview tomorrow for something fucking finally based in journalism. Thing is, it’s in Hertfordshire. If I get the job I’ll probably move there. Not that I mind moving around seeing I’m convinced I don’t have a home, no disrespect to my mother of course. I can’t stay in one place forever when it comes to geography. Cept Madrid. Guh. I fucking love Madrid. But even still that’s debatable.  My issue is not properly fitting in. I can live with that, I just don’t think I can deal with any potential awkwardness. I just have a massive assumption that everyone living there will be living in moderate serenity with a whole load of fucking trees everywhere and it would just be generally quiet. I wouldn’t mind the quietness, just slightly apprehensive about the folk that live there. Not in terms of racism, more ignorance.

I can see it now…

Granny Dorothy- “OOH. RICHARD. COME LOOK AT THIS. THERE’S A BURN VICTIM ON HIS WAY TO WORK. HOW MARVELOUSLY EMPOWERING! YOU GO GLEN COCO.”

Grandpa Richard- “I believe that is an Indian, my dear.”

Me- “Sup bitches. West Coast motherfucking represent. And I’m not Indian. But you tried. Respect.”

*Me and Grandpa Richard smoke a fat blunt with bitches and ho’s whilst Granny Dorothy twerks in my vicinity.*

Racial stereotyping is such a funny thing.

The Mars Volta- This Apparatus Must Be Unearthed.

I think I need to admit to myself I’m in an incredibly strange place at the minute. I have no idea if it’s a good or bad thing, but I don’t feel that my wavelength is in sync with everyone else and I’ve probably felt like this for the better part of two months now.

Anyway, this song in general kinda explains how I feel. Don’t read into the lyrics too much, Just focus on the instrumentals. This is one of my favourite Mars Volta tracks though.

Weirdo.

Sup bruhs.

Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything else to say, I’ve done the whole “I’m soooooooooo sorry, I promise THIS time I’ll be a more frequent blogger bla bla bla”. Truth be told, I just couldn’t be arsed, I couldn’t be fucked for a lot of things. Incredibly bad phase. Whatever. Life is life, we learn from it. Besides, I used to do 7 posts a day on average, so I guess my not being around kinda balances things out.

So again, sup bruhs.

I’ve been in a strange place lately. When I’m not feeling weird, I’m seeing weird shit. I’ve seen a pigeon eat from the carcass of another pigeon a little while ago (By the way, I hate pigeons. Rats with wings I tell ya.) and on my way to the library just before I sat down and started writing this post, I saw a man with dreadlocks. From his beard. I didn’t even know that was a thing. He looked like that fishy fucker from Pirates of the Caribbean 2, you know the octopus looking one. In terms of my thoughts, I may have already stated this, but it’s been weird, weird contemplation. More so than usual of what I’ve already shared. Weird to the point where I’M weirded out.

Then it got me to the whole point of the existence of weird. It’s all subjective, isn’t it? It’s a term used by the individual to describe their discomfort at a piece of information relayed to them in whatever format. What might constitute weirdness to someone may be completely normal or even revered to another. The concept of weird is weird. I feel that genuinely weird people are the ones that are labelled weird by other people, not actively trying themselves to promote they’re weird when nobody else thinks they are. Come to think of it, back in the wonderful teenage years of MySpace, I remember quite a few people going out of their way to be all, “ERHHHH MY GAWD. I’M CRAZY. LOOK. CRAZY. BALA HWIWE AHUEWDJA SJAA!” and then you get talking to them and they’re actually not weird in the slightest, which can be forgiven, I mean, most teenagers living in the first world were dumb fucks, myself included. I made the fatal mistake of assuming I knew everything purely because I knew how to manipulate and rationalise from an early age. I still feel like I’m a dumb fuck. For instance, If you asked me to fix your sink, I wouldn’t know what to do. I definitely still need to improve.  Whenever people compliment me on my blog or professional writing, it’s still shite compared to someone else. I just find it weird that we are all supposed to promote equality and loving one another when at the same time we’re supposed to be competitively ruthless against one another to be where we want to be.

Even the concept of Good and Evil makes me feel strange. I personally think evil is dominant in the world, but it can never explicitly take over, because it relies on the facade of Good. I want the world to be all happy and lovey dovey as much as the next person, but even then that wouldn’t work. Whenever someone genuinely moral and wanting to change the world for the better comes along, they’ll most likely get assassinated, historical events cover a lot of shit based on that so, ya know. So, with the evil people, what drives them? Religious behind closed doors or not, they’ll have their moment of tyranny and then what? If they’re religious, then what’s 50 years compared to a lifetime of being doomed to Hell? With the non-religious driven people, do they do it because they’re mad that there’s nothing for them when they die? Does it bring them glee because they can play a really bad version of God for a little while?

Man. Being sober for ages really gets to you.