A complex question to its own, and even harder to answer for yourself. Who and what I used to be was a memory, but it’s still inside of me and it resonates within my mannerisms and perception of my reality. It’s shaped my interactions and well-being, even broken down to my happiness and sadness with bits and pieces reoccuring at the same time as I’m reacting. I like to consider myself an avid writer, so I write everything that I think or ideas that seem to piece themselves together throughout these bouts of inspiration. If it’s not inspiration, it’s my ambitions that speak through my words. And if it’s not ambition, it’s my emotional willpower that speaks for itself. That being said - words are important.
I believe we are only as good as our expression of words. The beautiful thing is that words are at anyone’s disposal, but it’s a double edged sword. Duality of life is a constant essence. While some can conduct beautiful art and rhythm using such a tool, it can also tear a person down to his naked bones.
But these words are just a moment of what I was before. They’ve refined me as a whole, as a person. I wrote a significant amount before because both inspiration and personal strife conducted an orchestra of jumbled letters - it defined my stress, my original artistry. And more importantly, it was appropiate at that moment and time.
These ideas, these things that came out of my head were like a drug to me. But they would only hold me down for so long. I wrote, and I wrote, and guess what - I wrote fucking more. But that didn’t prove anything, I wrote of aspirations that inspired the person that I wanted to become. But it didn’t feel complete, simply because it wasn’t. Words from one person easily forms an idea, and from that idea could inspire a revolution. Or words can form an idea that no one will ever act on.
I had the words. I had the idea. But finally, I can say I have the motivation…-the action. And because of that, writing can only describe so much of what I’m doing now. These moments are building up to be the person of who I am now.
A moment of realization in the market - what are we training for? It never arrives, we’re always preparing and training but we want to do it! We want to move! Y’know? We are training for what? And what we do is very immediate, it’s the moment. You are not training, you are moving. And if you cannot move your body and control it, then what business do you have moving other objects outside of you if you cannot control your own self.
But they forget. But what if a dream remains as a memory, that you cannot forget? Imagine you wake up. But you are still asleep. Projections of reality from your own images, yet they feel so different. But what happens when you know that you are dreaming? Can you decide which way you’re going? Can you decide where the world leads you to? A world without gravity. A world with strange beauty. But how beautiful can a world be…-If you are alone? Everything is moving away, like everything is following a different rule. Maybe you just have to follow it too.
Suddenly, you feel every moment. Moments that seem to last forever. Learn to let go. Let the dream guide you. To a place you thought you have long forgotten, to a place with eternal beauty. Hoping to find the answers you think are waiting for you, at the end of the dream. But what is it that you’re looking for? Maybe the answers cannot be found in the dream itself.
Perplexed ‘cause it’s actual, a girl that’s not theatrical, killer on the beat - sick, yeah she my remix, little lame love song far from a beatnik, you’ll be in a seat, heart beats when you see this, like a kick to the head, you’re a girl in the flesh plus her face to the desk, but she’s smart and she’s fresh like a Stride of some Crest. ‘Cause I need you by my side, in my car where we lie, your kiss is my high. When you’re tied, or if you’re low, I’ll be right there, with the care, call me Joe that’ll make you fucking asian glow. From those feet to your toes, yeah, you’ll know that I’ll take you to Paris, I’m your pumpkin in a carriage, knight in shining armor, never wanna harm her, gotta nice laugh and your face is good karma, move them damn curves like I’m a snake charmer, a smile from the sun and I got a tan - FARMER’S.
Head rest, back seat, bumping hard - Bed Peace, Jhene to my Bino, taking off my chinos, whisper in my ear, mellow voice like Akino, respect and the rest and I’m tough like a steel toe, I got a way with words plus flow and the Bose, taking off our clothes, body wrapped - not opposed. Wake up to your face, I might stutter with my prose, this is fucking weird cause everybody knows! We’re on the same page, but two different challengers, yah chilling in my flannel kicking ass in soul calibur, I be on my grind, street fighter ‘till I die, tongue tied when I’m rapping every little bit of passion, spitting words true both followed by an action. Spooning all cool, and I wonder how we’re lasting, fashion so fly and Southwest in the passing, we’re just a great team and we’re Super Bros - Smashing.
Not really sure who you are yet, but yeah - this is for you.
The awareness of time in the present always seems to be far too long, but periods of allotted times makes everything seem far too short. I think I found a close balance between the two dilemmas, my Freshman year of University.
Satisfaction, what I think, is the purest form of what I felt this year. The year didn’t seem like it dragged on, but it was never too short - it felt perfect in the sense that it all fit in well, almost like spooning with another person; the satisfaction fit in snuggly, and it was relevant to my life. Now just because my first year in University was satisfactory, doesn’t mean that it was good, or that it was always okay.
In fact, the year was mostly shit. Although the experiences ranged in a spectrum of horrid and terrible plus a shitstorm combined, it’s only the most satisfying feeling to be on top. I think there’s a lot to say about a person by the way he/she deals with adversity, and I can’t help but think that I’ve grown in an intrinsic way that’ll never show on the outside - I’d like to think that’s fortitude. Granted, there were a lot of things that I could have done differently. But whatever mistakes that were made only contributed to the positive perception that I’ve been trying to get ahold of for so long.
The momentum is crucial to overall health and welbeing, and that starts off with positive influences that, in turn, kicks you into motion. So many qualities and skill sets that I’ve picked up have contributed to my own momentum, I’m kicking where it’s needed to feed THAT momentum in my own “windmill”. As much as I might feel satisfied, I’m mostly just proud. Getting kicked around in every direction’s pretty tiring, so I’m changing the game up a bit - I’m doing it all, everything that resonates within my creative realm and my social realm in order to create the state that I want to be in.
And it finally feels fucking good to be there.
I only owe it up to the people that I’ve associated myself with. They’re the academically talented, the culturally aware, and socially capable people that have really allowed for my growth. I’m truly in a place where I can taste all the sunrays…
The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up is hard to do. It takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick it off with a killer to grab attention. Then you gotta take it up a notch. But you don’t want to blow your wad. So then you gotta cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules. Anyway, I’ve started to make a tape, in my head, for Laura. Full of stuff she’d like. Full of stuff that’d make her happy. For the first time I can sorta see how that’s done.
"Top five things I miss about Laura. One; sense of humor. Very dry, but it can also be warm and forgiving. And she’s got one of the best all time laughs in the history of all time laughs, she laughs with her entire body. Two; she’s got character. Or at least she had character before the Ian nightmare. She’s loyal and honest, and she doesn’t even take it out on people when she’s having a bad day. That’s character. Three; I miss her smell, and the way she tastes. It’s a mystery of human chemistry and I don’t understand it, some people, as far as their senses are concerned, just feel like home. [lipsyncs four, while holding up four fingers] I really dig how she walks around. It’s like she doesn’t care how she looks or what she projects and it’s not that she doesn’t care it’s just, she’s not affected I guess, and that gives her grace. And five; she does this thing in bed when she can’t get to sleep, she kinda half moans and then rubs her feet together an equal number of times… it just kills me. Believe me, I mean, I could do a top five things about her that drive me crazy but it’s just your garden variety women you know, schizo stuff and that’s the kind of thing that got me here."
Resolved: that Hal Hefner should really stop letting the world tell him what’s possible and try to find out for himself. Maybe that’s just life’s philosophy suited only to some of us, those who cherish winning. So maybe it’s not for you. But I think it is.