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Editor’s note: One of the blogosphere’s hottest Hip-Hop writers, SFU Westside rep Meka Soul does the two-step when discussing the twelve step addiction of his affectation.

Confessions Of A Sneaker Fiend

Hello everyone. My name is Meka Soul and I think I have a problem.

See, I’ve been a fiend for the almighty amalgamation of leather, rubber, suede and nubuck for well over five years now. I may never be as fanatical as some of my other brethren are, but my incessant lust for the sneaker has at times unfortunately replaced the thrill of finding a woman to stab. It’s okay though because when I get rich I will swim in all the white meat I can eat.

Back when my mother used to put a perm in my hair so that the barber could cut through it easier (which would explain why I have locks now), I’d rock my Airwalks and Pro Wings as if I had come up on some exclusive SBs for cheap. Shit, I even treated my Patrick Ewing sneakers like they were limited edition Jordan’s. You couldn’t tell me shit about those clown shoes.

It all changed for me when I hit college, however. While I still didn’t give a shit about the clothes I rocked, I remember when I stepped inside a Foot Locker and fell in love with a pair of metallic silver Nike Air Max Plus shoes. Like the first time you bed a very freaky gurl ([||], no Gucci Mane), I got open like Black Moon.

It was a slow process, though. At first I’d get any old kick from the retail spots. It was’nt until my boy put me onto game with this low key store in Long Beach called Proper that I experienced my first, full-blown taste of the sneaker night life. The walls were lined with shoes I’d never even seen before! After that trip it was like two pins and a Doobie – it was a wrap.

A few years (and a couple dozen pairs) later, I’ve ascended into the world of sneaker fanaticism. I hit up sites, I lounge with store owners, and I’ve even done interviews with a few peoples. My shoe collection once ballooned into over 30 pairs. I managed to whittle it down to about 15, but the lure still hovers over my head like the smell crispy leather and unworn insoles when you first crack open a box of Dunks.

Eventually I know this insatiable desire will give way once I find a woman who’s foolishly willing to accept my Igbo love seeds, but until then I’ll be rocking my Kill White Tee with my Lucky 7 Dunks.

Which one do you think goes best?

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 19th, 2007 at 3:51 pm and is filed under Black Bullshit, Fashion Faux Pas, Ghetto Celebs, iNternets Celebrities, Sneaker Fiends United, The Addict, The Guest Room. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.