Internets,
Greetings from sunny St. Ma’arten. My summer of rest, relaxation, recharging and realization continues from the fair shores of the famous Dutch Antilles isle. I’m in a cafe, stealing a wireless, the ocean before me, latte beside me, sunblock on and cooking. I would have loved to tell you that Oprah lent me her crib so that I could finish the scribework on my memoir.
Its the story of the prodigal son of New York City who turned his back on everyone and everything that raised him until he was brought to his knees, within an inch of his humanity, and had to begin the difficult journey of finding his way back home. I hope this story will help teenagers get through the tough years when peer pressure forces them to do things they might otherwise not.
Awww, who am I kidding? No one gives a shit about morality or humanity or any of that fruitbaggery anymore. We are beyond books and beyond spirituality. What I’ve really been trying to do is Facebook friend Caroline Gu911ani since I learned that Sephora declined to press charges against her because of who her dad is. Maybe I can convince her to do a smash and grab at Tiffany’s?
I’m still following the news feeds in St.Ma’arten although I’m gathering news using legacy methods like newspapers and television news. I’m about to turn off my Twitter accounts and leave my Facebook page alone. I feel like the information cycle and focus that exists online doesn’t serve me for learning about stories or the people that make them. I’m returning to a simpler existence.
Fuxing around on a Caribbean island can be a sweet reminder for all the things you forgot were important. I take so much shit for granted back in NYC. I try to do everything possible. I want every plum project at my day job. I want to attend every free outdoor concert and every open bar advertising or entertainment industry party. I want to buy every sneaker that has air in the midsole. And then I want to go back home and sit in front of a computer until the sun rises to tell everyone about everything. But its not possible to do everything — and you miss so much when you try.
The trip to St.Ma’arten was mostly to find some time to be alone with my girlfriend. I refer to her on the blogs as Chocolate Snowflake. I called her that because she does all kind of crazy shit that I only associate with the white, but then again she and I went word for word on every song at the Hall & Oates concert last year at Coney Island. I wouldn’t trade my Chocolate Snowflake for anything.
Dallas Penn in virtual reality is pretty fun to fux with. DP in real life reality is just as dope. As a matter of fact, DP is real reality. I’ve just been waiting for the rest of you to catch up with me. Don’t do me like Rakim and have my shit be obsolete by the time you get up to speed. The very fact that you are here at IC.com means that you are capable of moving faster than the speed limit. In a minute we are going to take you on a journey as fast as the speed of light. Faster even. We are going to take you into the future.
As soon as I get this starfish off my titty.
