I’m at an airport crying. That seems to be a recurring theme on these diary Tumblr posts… tears.
Let me give you the situation surrounding my mind frame, maybe then crying will be permissible, excusable.
I’m headed to NYC for the weekend to do video stuff. They have informed me they are having a tough time coming up with ideas of things for me to cover/film… I sent them 10+ ideas, they were all rejected. I left my normal job (that I loathe) early at 3pm to get to the airport. On the way, I got an email saying that because they were having a tough time coming up with content for me to create this month that they would be cutting our contract short by one month. This means that my September trip, the sixth month of my six-month contract, will be no more. That money I counted on? No more. That creative outlet I so desperately need? Not happening.
It’s easy to immediately launch into “What did I do wrong?” scenarios… Was I not funny enough? Did my videos not get the right amount of views? Was it that confusion over expense reimbursement?… I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve been in an airport for 4 hours contemplating life. Flight was supposed to be at 5pm, but it was delayed 40 minutes because of “congestion at LaGuardia” then delayed another 30 minutes then after that it was discovered the plane needed maintenance. An hour they said… then another hour… then finally, definitely it would be ready at 9:30. I live in this fucking city. I could have been at home if they gave me a straight answer at 5pm.
I could have not left work early. I could have gone home to my fucking wife and daughter and spent time that I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET BACK. My daughter called me and said “are you on an airplane daddy?” No sweetie, daddy is not. “I come pick you up.” I don’t know how to handle these emotions. Here I am sacrificing what means more than anything to me and it doesn’t matter. Not to my job. Not to Complex. Not to Delta. It’s all for fucking naught.
At the beginning of this journey I thought “Aww man, this will be dope. I’ll do these, they’ll like the videos enough and something better will come along. I’ll be able to quit this fuccboi job and do something that reinvigorates my soul, something I love doing.” Nope.
That is not happening.
Sorry to disappoint you.
You never plan on a Plan C.
Here I was suffering through the day job that gives my family security and some of the best insurance ever to eke out a small amount of freedom to write dumb Internet stuff, the illusion of a Plan B. The realization that doing Internet videos and writing and being given part-time/full-time money for it is no longer a possibility at this moment.
I look back at the previous 4 months… was it worth it? I don’t know. I was told by a constituent my show host replacement… and I can’t even be mad. It’s a high profile person, and I knew that would happen when I saw how much potential it had. I just wish They had been more forthcoming with me.
I met wonderful people, but I was away from my wife and daughter. In 10 years the nice Internet people that follow me and favorite my inane ramblings won’t be there to help me explain to my daughter why she shouldn’t have sex, or why she shouldn’t wear that top, or why boys are disgusting… It will be me. And who knows? If I was in her life for four more weekends maybe I’d have the rapport to make it stick. Maybe she wouldn’t have those toddler memories of me not being there and she’d love me a little bit more.
My escape has been shut down. My hope has been extinguished. I know this isn’t the end of the road, but it sure is gonna suck to have to turn around and drive 100 miles back to where I was to start on the next journey…
You never plan on a Plan C… but scrambling back to the drawing board is sometimes necessary, even if you really really really don’t want to.
Spite is a powerful motivator.
Drake just dropped his remix of I LOVE MAKONNEN’s “Club Going Up On A Tuesday” a little over an hour ago.
I’m 10 beers deep. That’s the excuse I’m gonna hide behind.
I just finished writing something for money.
I am crying.
Why would I actively admit to such an embarrassing fact? IDK. I suppose that’s just who I am. There’s no filter, no “image” I try to portray on this here Internet. You’ll either say “aww” or “what a fuccboi.” At the end of the day, I don’t care. I just want to give you the facts for you to form your own opinion.
Why am I crying? Well, that has a lot to do with releasing pent up turmoil, uncertainty and stress from the past 4 months. It struck me deep in my soul when this Drake remix dropped. I discovered I LOVE MAKONNEN last month after Tim Larew or Goodwin mentioned him to me, and I immediately fell in love. He is the perfect blend of authentic and weird and talent that I see in myself. He is unique. That’s really all I require from musicians these days: be unique.
When I first started listening to I LOVE MAKONNEN. I found out that he has A LOT of music, like 10+ projects. He’s obviously been putting in work and mastering his sound. It was refreshing to visit his extensive catalog. What that tells me is that he deserves this Drake feature. He is not Bobby Shmurda who was ridiculed via vine until everyone thought “sure why not?” Shmurda has like 5 verses total. Makonnen has 500.
It’s not the song that spoke to my soul (though I love it), but it’s more the idea of how the song came to be. I’ve never actively tried to get into the position I am in now: writing dumb shit for money and doing videos for a media company in NYC. I’m an idiot boy from SC. This shit just sort of fell in my lap… because people with status/money recognized I was doing something worthwhile. You can’t deny I’ve put in the work.
Are there people more deserving than me? Yes. Are there people who have put in more work? Yes. Are there people who can do what I do? No. That’s what I saw in Makonnen. A gem with a unique voice, a rare product. To outsiders who will wake up later this morning and see a new Drake song, they’ll have no idea about Makonnen. They’ll think that is a Drake song. It is not. They’ll think he is an overnight success. He is not.
I am not.
The masses don’t see all the shit you did for free. They don’t know some of your best work is buried deep beneath the sands of the hourglass. But to those familiar… they root for you. They know you deserve it.
I’ve never actively tried to get in the position I am in. I just tried to do dumb shit to make me forget that I loathed the majority of my time on earth: my job. I did this as an escape for free. I did it enough that publications came calling.
I am currently in a trial contract with Complex to do videos and it’s a dream come true for an idiot boy from SC. But, with two months left in my contract, I’m at a crossroads. I am miserable at my job. I love creating content. I have a family. Obviously, the answer is “quit your job.” Not so obvious are the factors around that… loss of financial security, loss of benefits, more time spent away from family… it’s tough.
In 3 years I’ll be 30. I can’t be “Bauce Sauce” forever… at some point I have to sort of grow up I think? Every hour I spend at my job is a waste. It’s an hour I could devote to bettering myself, my talent, my passion, my family’s situation. Also, what if Complex doesn’t want to continue a partnership? These are all things I’ve struggled with for months.
Every time I look into my daughter’s face, I realize that this shit is not about me. It is about us. It’s not about what makes me happy. It’s what makes my family happy. Can I conceal the pain for 20 years and work a job that sucks? I mean, our parents did it. Can I use my missed opportunities to instill in her that she has to fight for what she wants? Am I a coward for not doing so or am I being practical?
These are thoughts I’ve wrestled with. I think I’ll eventually figure them out. But, in the mean time, I will root for Makonnen. I don’t know if he ever contemplated quitting. I don’t know if he ever wanted this notoriety or if he just did music for fun. I just know he deserves it, and the result of that hard work has shaken me, seeing that it can pay off. I don’t know what the future brings, but maybe hopefully possibly it’s good.
Oh no, it’s 4:45. I’d love to edit this or write some more but I don’t have the time. I must wake up in 3 hours to go to work. C’est la vie. :)~
I’m currently in downtown Nashville at a very nice hotel that I have no business being in. I’m also a bit intoxicated but that’s just truth juice, right?
I don’t say that as a brag, but as a baseline for where I’m at right now.
When I started writing silly Rap Genius blog posts for free (my first online post was this Lil B article) five years ago I had no idea that it would lead to my present situation.
I wrote for Rap Genius and annotated for free, then they paid me, then Marc from Mostly Junkfood and I hit it off because of a sentence that included “dabbled in amateur cum shots.” From there I started writing for MJF, then through Marc Ernest Baker got me writing for Complex then after my defining Crying at Future’s Fader Performance essay Drew from Noisey invited me to freelance for them.
I never sought out opportunities, I was given them, perhaps mistakenly but whatever. When an article is published and has my name attached to it that means something. There are expectations and assumptions that comes with that, but that’s ultimately controlled by me.
Make dope stuff, and people will expect dope stuff from you.
I’m in my second month of a contract with Complex to create video content for them, and man… I still don’t feel I deserve it. I’ll fly to NYC every month and get to create dope stuff with dope people who also make dope stuff. It doesn’t feel real. This is what I’ve always wanted but wasn’t sure how to achieve.
It happened because I found something I loved doing, and I kept doing it and doing it and doing it until people noticed.
And, I did it all while being me.
I’ve met some amazing people along the way, and I’ve lost a ton of sleep but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m able to provide a more stable fiscal situation for my family and I’m happier.
Happiness, however, doesn’t come without doubt.
Do I belong here? There are people way better than me. Should someone else have my spot? Am I really even that good?
I got picked up by a car service from the airport tonight. As I sat in the back of a very nice blacked out Tahoe I just looked out the window with incredulity. I never expected this. I never sought this out. But it happened. And, it turns out it’s exactly what I wanted, what I ever so desperately needed: to get paid to do what I love.
idk why I needed to write this, but I was drunk and grateful and that’s a beautiful combination. Strive to thrive, my lords. There are opportunities waiting on the horizon, hidden in the shadows and you can’t see them yet because you’re staring into the sun, squinting.
Better days are ahead. Stay persistent and constant in your journey. Make dope stuff and dope stuff will happen, I promise.
I wrote this and pitched it to a place but then they decided not to publish it because they realized that it was not good for their personal healths to be associated with this listsicle.
The purpose of a life hack is to increase the quality of life. Because [Redacted] cares about our readers, we present to you this life hack: Don’t Diss Lil Durk. This is perhaps the ultimate life hack because it will help you stay alive. After being dissed by Lil Durk, Mr. Lime in the Coconut, Tyga, was utterly aghast and, unwisely decided to respond. Always the opportunist, The Game decided to gasp at relevancy and help Tyga out by hopping on the “ChiRaq Remix,” while very clearly letting the world know that he has zero idea who Lil Durk is. (Editor’s Note: Lil Durk may very well be Dirk Nowitzki in an elaborate Mrs. Doubtfire scheme.)
With the beef currently only existing in audio form, we can almost guarantee that someone is going to be shot. In fact, we’d go so far as to say that everyone may be getting shot. We are not saying that Lil Durk or his cohorts are going to shoot anyone. That would be irresponsible to our own lives to suggest that because as far as I know they have never done anything illegal, but… accidents happen. Coincidences occur. People get shot for no reason, whether rhyme is involved or not. We’ve put together a list of people who will probably accidentally be shot in the coming weeks. Let this be a lesson to you all.
T-Raww is definitely going to get shot. You can’t diss Lil Durk and not end up in a freak accident where you fall on some bullets. To be honest, we aren’t sure what would possess Tyga to do this. He was on an MTV show called Bustas and Lil Durk was not. Also, the fact that he didn’t call his diss “ChiRaq City” proves he is way over his head here. On “Believe Me,” Drake raps “YMCMB we’re waiting for anyone to try us.” The ad lib after that line is Drake faintly saying “Except Lil Durk.” Godspeed Tyga.
The Game decided he needed to hop on a song and diss an upstanding, law-abiding citizen like Lil Durk while saying he’s cool with other Chicago artists. Bold strategy, but one that ultimate seals his fate of definitely getting shot. The Game has his own beef to worry about with 40 Glocc parading The Game’s children and baby mama all over Instagram and being wild disrespectful. One beef at a time, Jayceon. You spread yourself too thin, and you can’t effectively shoot people because you have to worry about other people shooting you that aren’t the people who you are trying to shoot.
The Girl Who Says “Hell Nah” At The End of “ChiRaq to LA”
Whether she was unaware of what her sound byte would be used for, coerced or a willing participant, it is irrelevant. Her voice is on this song. Without a doubt, she is getting shot. RIP The Girl Who Says “Hell Nah” At The End of “ChiRaq to LA.”
40 Glocc is the reason The Game was feeling so aggro in the first place. He is the instigator to The Game’s insertion into this beef. Because of this, he is getting shot for sure.
Inventors of SoundCloud
They created a platform/site that allowed Tyga and The Game to host their Lil Durk song on. They greased the wheels. Their tangential connection does not absolve them from being shot. This is a lesson to all you web entrepreneurs. Sometimes you create a real cool product that won’t get you shot and sometimes you create a real cool product that gets you shot. Try your best to create a real cool product that won’t get you shot. This axiom was my biggest takeaway from my MBA program.
The 340,700 People Who Listened To “ChiRaq to LA” on Soundcloud
The inventors of SoundCloud foolishly include play count metrics for every song. All a potential shooter would have to do is FOI the IP addresses of everyone who listened and get their addresses with minimal effort. If you were one of these people, your best bet is to smash your computer and move to Mongolia. That won’t put you in the clear, but it will give you an extra two years of not being shot, as it will be tougher to track you down while having to ride on the back of oxen. An incognito window is not digital Teflon.
Travie McCoy is Tyga’s cousin, and the reason he exists in the music industry. Travie McCoy is our generation’s Hitler’s father.
Gym Class Heroes
Sucks they had to be connected to Travie McCoy. Enjoy being shot.
Gym class heroes
Any kid that hits a game-winning three during a pick-up basketball game or robs a kickball homerun by leaping over the fence or makes an unbelievable flag capture to save a touchdown is getting shot. If there is one thing that people who shoot people do not possess it is discernment. Gym Class Heroes and gym class heroes are the same people in their book. Nerds, you have nothing to worry about. Jocks, congratulations on getting clapped up.
He has made more than one song with Travie McCoy. I have no qualms about him being on the receiving end of an accurate #GRRATATA. His bullet wounds are well-deserved; I pray he catches a literal grenade.
For publishing this article, we fully expect, and embrace, being shot. Not only will it give our publication more credibility, but we all need new computers anyways, so if anything, the people who shoot us— that are definitely not either Lil Durk or his people— are doing us a favor.
I have to assume that OTF have Google Alerts for their names and their enemies’ names. I’m risking my own life writing this article because it increases my chances that Lil Durk learns that I exist. That, my friends, is problematic. I am risking my life to save the masses. I am the Millennial Ghandi.
On celebrity culture:
"It was an atmosphere from which I instantly wanted to retreat. I detested the superficial elevation and commoditization of it all. Juxtaposed with the grotesque self-involvement it would sometimes draw out of me. Being a faceless member of a mob I soon realized was far more comforting than teetering on a brittle pedestal one inch off the ground. The exclusion and subtle differentiation that comes with even a rather diluted form of celebrity that I had embarrasses me. But what shook me as most odd… celebrity is seen as by a huge amount of people as the pinnacle of society, of success. It is revered almost religiously— both the institution and its quickly growing member base. These days the apotheosis of celebrity is not just confined to the worship of movie idols, pop stars, sports heroes… we have bloody celebrity chefs, authors …comedians… intellectuals… cheesemongers… hat makers."
My only wish is to be appreciated in my entirety. Not “Kevin, you a good rapper,” “you a good singer,” “you dress nice,” but in my entirety as an individual. I’m a caring and compassionate person. When I don’t get that compassion back, it really hurts. I hate to not matter.
Ten years ago this summer David Foster Wallace wrote a now-legendary essay for Gourmet Magazine titled “Consider the Lobster” questioning the morality of seafood culinary techniques. As I recall he used a gang of circumstantial evidence to try and give the lie to the prevailing assumption…
tinyhandsman asked: you seem to get angry when other people like things
This is such a ridiculous misread of what I do that it makes me want to quit forever. But I get it. I’m dealing with people who have been taught to define themselves by the things they consume. So they interpret any dismissal of something that they’ve enjoyed as a personal attack. And if you think someone is attacking you then yes the natural conclusion would be that this person is angry. At you. For liking something. I can assure you that this not the case. Your taste in things does not define your person and I almost certainly do not care about either.
“They are trying to define me by my taste like they have defined themselves by their own taste. This can be frustrating but even that doesn’t make me angry anymore. More often I just feel sadness.”