Skinny Bits 9.18.15

Last night’s game. Jesus Daequan Christ.

I need all the prayers, petitions to the Universe, and kind thoughts because I don’t see how I make it through this NFL season without a having heart attack or brain aneurysm. Peyton is old. With a bad neck. He can’t afford to have a steaming pile of garbage lined up in front of him. The hell do you build an alleged “run-heavy” offense when your offensive line can’t block worth a damn?

I pray this is Peyton’s last season. I can’t do much more of this.

I’m a month late to the conversation about Dr. Dre’s Compton album but it’s running neck-and-neck with Skyzoo’s Music for My Friends as my release of the summer. The first half of the album is a little uneven, but it ascends to awesomeness with Deep Water. Dre’s production is top notch as always; Kendrick is swaggering, rapping ass Kendrick (which I missed on the brilliant but heavy To Pimp a Butterfly); and Jon Connor’s verses remind me how much I liked his mixtape material.

With projects from Warren G, Scarface, and TIP (IT’S THE KANG, BITCH) released this summer, I’m happy to see elder rappers releasing listenable hip-hop for the mature listener.

While I’m talking about music, I have to mention the Red Light Special podcast for hipping me to some pretty dope R&B projects. Bridget Kelly’s Summer of 17 EP has been in heavy rotation this summer, as has Audrey Rose’s Chapter One: Guns & Roses.

We are officially in Mercury Retrograde, which means my friends sending panicky CAPS CAPS CAPS messages worrying about the world falling apart. Yes, A-Team. I’m talking about you. The more astrologically savvy I become, I appreciate retrograde periods as a time to be more patient and mindful. We worship convenience so much that we’re offended by delays. Mercury Retrograde is a nice reminder that the Universe doesn’t give a damn about our to do lists.

This particular retrograde is a thoughtful one for me, as it ends on my birthday (I am officially three weeks from 32). I’m using the time to revisit Year 31; where have I grown, what have I changed, where have I regressed. I’ve fallen into a trap of validation-seeking which I’ll tackle in the coming year–focusing on acceptance and authentic self-expression. Then there’s the book. I tend to treat “edit” like a four-letter word but reworking and compiling my work has been eye-opening and pretty damn fun. I guess this is how it feels when I work with the energy I’m given instead of fighting it. Who knew?

Posting here feels so different without archives. Blank canvasses arouse me.

Switch the game up like Manning at the line/I roll from the Dome like I’m playin’ for the Lions/It’s coke, what I wrote, get em high every line/it’s like Detox when the speaker’s turned down…


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