The Slow Goodbye

I come from alcoholism. Real live alcoholism. I come from drunken parties, drunken fights, drunken nights in the house. Once upon a time, I believed that this was my fate, and for at least the last ten years, since I turned 21 and could buy it myself, I accepted it as my fate.

I drank. I drank when I was happy, I drank when I was furious, I drank when I was in fear of my life, I drank just because. Sometimes, even now, I drink before work just to calm the dread forming in my chest at having to perform the duties of my public facing jobs.

I started smoking weed about two years after I started drinking. I had tried it before, but I never smoked right, but when I finally learned, needless to say I was converted.

I spent many nights over the last several years in various states of cross faded states of mind, or even just gone off of one or the other. A lot of it was to mask the despair I felt inside.

Anyway, I gave this little backstory just to get around to my overarching point – I really am getting away from alcohol.

I moved to a state where weed is only medically cleared, and good luck with getting approved for that if you’re mental like me, because these red state authoritarians aren’t approving shit that makes people feel good and that they can grow themselves. Booze, however, runs aplenty down here, hell, I can drive up to a window and purchase a frozen daiquiri in a styrofoam cop or a gallon bag like it’s a Happy Meal, and to some people, it really is.

That’s great and all, but alcohol doesn’t agree with me anymore. It never really did, but now it really doesn’t agree with me. I’ve started to get headaches soon as I drink some liquor, but then it don’t give me the buzz that I’m craving, but then it also makes me angry and sullen and down. Depending on the strain, weed doesn’t do that to me.

Plus, after going home over the winter holidays and getting reaquainted with some good Cali weed, I prefer the feeling that weed gives me over alcohol. Yeah, weed makes me want to sleep a bit longer and eat everything, but the high is so much better than the lows of alcohol.

I don’t know if there will ever come a day where I will completely leave alcohol alone. I probably will. I’ve reevaluated my relationship with it and it and I just ain’t friends the way we used to be. Of course, one of the battle cries of the millenial is letting go of toxic relationships, so why not let this literally toxic relationship go?

Featured photo by Terricks Noah, find his work here: https://www.pexels.com/@terricks-noah-282960

Inline photo by Yash Lucid, find his work here: https://www.instagram.com/thatlucidguy/

#InternetKilledtheVideoStar Vol. 6: Bitch Please

Let me preface this for a certain segment of the population: I got a lot of internalized misogyny to work on.

You do too, even if you don’t admit it, so don’t try to be high and mighty above me.

With that being said, let’s get into some straight up West Coast gangta shit.

All I wanna be was a G, ha!
My whole life, nigga please, ha!

Breaking off these motherfuckin keys, ha!
Let’s get these motherfuckin G’s, ha!
Nigga you don’t wanna fuck with this

I don’t care to explain why this song makes me do like Pam did in that episode of Martin when Biggie Smalls appeared on there, which by the way, is a Top 3 episode of Martin to me, fight me later.

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But it does, and I was reminded the other day on the way home from my place of employment.

You have West Coasts legends being straight up Gs. Xzhibit was still rocking the cornrolls (I saw him on Bong Apetit and he was bald. Bald. My youth y’all).  Snoop was still trying to be a pimp. Nate Dogg was being one of the best vocal talents to be put on wax (fight me). This song and the corresponding video makes me want to put on a fresh pair of Chucks (canvas, none of that leather shit), iron my khakis until they’re stiff as a jizz filled sock and wear my oversized white-T and button up shirt combo with pride. The ’64 Impala in my head sits on the shiniest of chrome with the most advance hydraulics system ever so I can ride three wheels up and down Crenshaw in style.

Man, white folks is moving in, ain’t nobody riding in low riders up and down Crenshaw anymore.

This was No Limit era Snoop too. WATTBA.

Bask in the opulence, decadence, Black excellence* of “Bitch Please.”

*This really depends on who you ask.