Zodiac Jack

Taurus. 
You?

Attack!

They say
on
the quietest of nights,
the beast will appear...
and 
only hipsters    
can
appease 
his hunger.    <---condescension-only diet 

Real Talk

You go your way,
I'll go mine.

SXSW, etc...

Austin.
In a nusthell..
sorta
hate you,
but down to capitalize 
on
any
and 
all
of your
free opportunities.
May the multiple
backstage 
access(s)
remain a constant reminder
that
I get(s) 
mine.


To the awful hotel, 
awful cab driver(s),
and tragic lack
of
non-bros,
I bid you adieu.
May you all meet each other.


Photos 
courtesy 
"Year of the Ghost"
Productions.     <------a man, a drum machine, and a dream

Talib

It's
not as though
I grew up
dreaming of being
the 
"greatest journalist ever",
or
anything like that.
To be honest,
I 
thought more 
along the lines of
"which Power Ranger Zord
best suited my personality",
and
what my 
never-before-seen
finishing maneuver
(as a professional wrestler)
would be.       <----lots of time went towards this
But in 
2011,
aka "The Year of The Ghost",    <----patent/debut album title pending
I decided to 
bite
the bullet
and 
really dedicate myself
to
the task, 
no matter how much
the subject
may have stuck to my ribs.     <---metaphor   <-----so heavy
All photos
courtesy of
deez ___.

The Journey

Once
upon a time,
I
was afraid of roaches.
"Never
trust anything
that
outlived the dinosaurs,"    <---proper f'd   <---blimey
they'd
say.
Until,
one night,
I spied
(with my lil eye)
a creepy crawler darting
under
the bed.
Maybe it was my
dormant animal instincts,
or perhaps
I had just been reading
a Watterson classic
in which
we got to see Hobbes'
point
of view
whilest waiting for Calvin
to
come home from school,
but
in that fateful moment,
I decided to be afraid no longer.


I won't go into
the details
of that night,
but 7 hours
and one papasan chair
later,
one of us  <---not the roach
walked out of the room alive.


Somewhere
near
the beginning of
this story,
I was trying to make a point
about
respecting the journey,
because
everyone is on one.
But,
as oft apt
to do,
it somehow steered itself towards
me owning.
The end.   <----probably not