November 23rd, 2007
What’s that you say? ODB? He’s been been dead for five years? A minor technicality. Rest assured, I will be at ODB’s birthday/tribute tonight. Apparently, RZA, Gza and roughly half the Wu will be in attendance. Also, there will be a birthday cake. I like birthday cake. Only fascists, pinkos and low-level insurance salesmen do not like birthday cake. The event is at the 740 Club on 8th and Broadway in Downtown. It promises to be a potentially very very entertaining affair. You should come if you’re into that sort of thing. If not, expect a report sometime next week. Hopefully, the RZA will bring out the Gravediggaz and they can all conduct a seance.
Download:
MP3: Ol’ Dirty Bastard-”Snakes”
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »
November 21st, 2007
Zilla Rocca was caught stealing once when he was five. He enjoys stealing. It’s as simple as that.
Before I was an international bloggin’ sensation, I put in three years working for the worst corporate retailer not named Wal-Mart. You know this, I talked about this earlier in my post on the top 5 most returned CDs from 2002-2004.
In the aforementioned post, I alluded to the business arrangement we, the severely underpaid staff, made with the sticky handed crackheads who would routinely come into the store with freshly boosted CD’s and DVD’s. We got first dibbs on such hits as Training Day and The Blueprint 2 on their release dates. Crack heads were paid $8 a pop to go buy some more “medicine.” And there was much rejoicing for all parties! Hurrah!
However, along with the discounted deals from smokers, there was a yin to the yang of weekly hook-ups from criminals: thieves who were trying to come up on OUR products. Were these thieves “outsider” crackheads who didn’t get the hood memo stating that we, the severely underpaid staff, were “insiders” who knew their techniques of blatant thievery? And were said “outsider” crackheads too stupid to understand that we BOUGHT stolen products daily, therefore making us immune to theft by basic logic? These uninformed smokers were truly biting the hand that would happily feed them!
I Don’t Think You Understand Joe Rogan, I Smoke Rocks
This particular corporate retailer had the worst possible policy when it came to theft. Most stores have, at the very minimum, some overweight mope pulling down $10 an hour to stand near the door in their rent-a-cop suit while deterring theft and checking out women’s asses. Or some retailers opt for the “undercover” mopes who pretend to shop but basically just follow and grill the shit out of any black or white trash customers deemed “suspicious.” My corporate masters had us, the severely underpaid staff, act not only as customer service reps, maintenance, material handlers, inventory specialists, bank tellers but loss prevention hawks as well. How were we trained to handle the elusive, retail criminal mastermind? Watch a 10 minute video, of course.
Before I go any further, let me just say that some thieves are REALLY good. Some are elaborate: they scout the place out, they have multiple distractions going at the same time, they have a getaway car ready outside, they employ non-suspicious accomplices….just so they can steal 15 copies of Chocolate Factory. I applaud these jokers because an 18 year old in an oversized golf shirt trying to convince a 40 year old woman than Jennifer Lopez and J. Lo are the same person can’t possibly see the con unfolding from 3 different directions.
Now, our specific policy was to watch potential thieves, and if you SAW them putting something in their jacket, or heard them tear off the plastic to a DVD, you immediately ran and got a manager. If the thief managed to run out the door, it was out of our jurisdiction. We could not chase them nor physically manhandle thieves. We had to tattle on them first and then simply hope for the best. Oh, and call the police, who on average showed up 45 minutes to 3 hours later. We did have 1 camera pointed at the door but watching footage on that thing was like watching a Paris Hilton sex tape on a Verizon V cast phone underwater.
Let’s Just All Pretend That We Didn’t Watch This
My store manager at the time was an Irish badass from South Philly who L-O-V-E-D confronting possible thieves. He strongarmed our daily crackheads for specific items, pissed off annoying customers who tried to scheme their way into shady returns, and generally got off on loss prevention as a whole. This manager came up with a brilliant anti-theft system: apply an additional white anti-theft sticker to the OUTSIDE of DVD’s, then wrap it up with clear masking tape.
Most DVD’s have the white anti-theft stickers attached on the inside. These stickers are de-activated on a magnetic pad at the register after purchase. Thieves will typically either line a shopping bag with layers of duct tape to deactivate the stickers (aka a “booster bag”) or just cut a slit on the opening side of a DVD, wiggle the disc out, and put the empty DVD box back on the shelf. He didn’t apply this strategy to CD’s because CD’s were locked into plastic shucks which already have the anti-theft device inside of them.
He also made every customer check their bag at the register. Our company didn’t like this because you could potentially be sued if, say, someone brought up a bag and then got it back later while claiming they bought a diamond ring and it was no longer in the bag that they brought into the store. Whatever. This corporate retailer was just too cheap to employ fat mopes to stand around in rent-a-cop clothes.
This manager also decided to only put 1 copy of potential hot items (read: rap/R&B CD’s and hood approved movies) on display racks and in the aisles. All the inventory was put behind the register, so at the very worst someone would steal 3 copies of State Property: The Movie compared to 22. This was such a simple premise and yet our corporate higher-ups preferred to have us, the underpaid staff, stalk and hawkeye anyone who picked up anything in the Rap/Gospel/R&B sections and/or the Action/Urban DVD section.
This made life for people like myself and Big O less stressful. Now, with an improved anti-theft policy, we would only have to focus on the painfully moronic thieves and go back to what we were good at: making fun of customers’ tastes, cracking on girls, telling jokes and watching DVD’s at the front counter.
Be sure to check back new week for part 2 of “Been Caught Stealing.”
Download:
MP3: Jane’s Addiction-”Been Caught Stealing”
MP3: King Tubby-”Stealing”
Posted in The Beat Generation | 6 Comments »
November 20th, 2007
I know I know. The Passion of the Weiss is fast turning into Def Jam’s How Can We Promote the Big Dough Rehab So That It Doesn’t Brick With 40,000 copies sold in its first week (a feeble strategy if there ever was). Sorry. Truth is I couldn’t resist posting this, especially considering I was actually at this show at the HOB LA. Plus, if you’re reading this blog, I assume you also find few things more entertaining than a Ghostface rant. Besides, what else am I supposed to write about, how the new Cam’ron mixtape finds him trying to rap over every soft Mid-70s MOR rock staple he dug out of Hell Rell’s moms crib. Call me crazy, but I’ll pass on listening to 2-plus hours of Cam and Freekey Zeekey rhyming “chinchilla” with “Killa” and “gorilla” over the instrumental for “More Than a Feeling.”
Download:
MP3: Ghostface Killah-”In the Rain a.k.a. Wise”
Posted in Videos | 3 Comments »
November 19th, 2007
Scott Towler is striking because even Jesus got residuals from the Bible.
Nobody outside of entertainment really cares about the writer’s strike in Hollywood. But they should. What happens here in Tinseltown directly affects the social fabric of our society today. Oh sure, you can try and deny it, but it’s 100% true. Much of this country’s pathetic identity comes from California’s top export: entertainment. And it doesn’t just stop at our borders. Today, more than ever, movies are being released all over the world. Television is syndicated and broadcast in over 100 different countries. London boasts a theatre row that rivals anything Broadway has ever done. And it just keeps growing. Look at this site for example, with Weiss dissecting artists from all over the globe, many of which I would have never even lent an ear to until I had read about it here. It’s an amazing global marketplace, and it’s all driven by entertainment. That well is about to dry up however, and I’m not sure anybody is ready for the fallout.
Many of you have probably noticed already: where’s the Colbert Report? The Daily Show? And what of Letterman, Leno, Conan, and Ellen!? Within the upcoming weeks, sit-coms will go the same route. By February, all new scripted programming will virtually cease to exist. And should this strike last until the spring or summer as many are speculating? Look for a thin movie going season as well, as studios trying to stretch out their releases to bridge the gap. Literally everything in motion pictures will come to a screeching halt.
Revenge of the Nerds
But who really cares about TV right? I mean, between sports and reality shows, we’ll get by, won’t we? Sure we will. And movies? That’s fine…I’ll just use my netflix more, right? Well, for most of us, these are fine alternatives. Heck, it may even encourage kids to go outside and get some exercise. Heaven forbid that ever happens again. Kids these days…I tell ya. Oops, I slipped into old man mode there. The point I’m trying to make is that in general, and I think people tend to forget this, there are a shit ton of people who watch TV. And not just prime time or sports, but everything. From the infomercial to the Soap Opera. From Discovery Channel to E! News. Television didn’t ask to grow as large as it has, but it’s happened, and there’s no turning back now. And the only reason it’s grown so much is because so many damn people watch it.
And while this strike may be good to weed out poor programming, think about how many people lose their jobs, their homes, and their lives because of it. Let’s take my Alma mater, Scrubs, for example. Now, there were something like 13 writers on Scrubs this season. They went on strike. Because they aren’t writing new stuff, new shows aren’t getting filmed, and thus, no crew is needed to make an episode if one isn’t written to begin with. It’s simple business really. Why keep a store open if you have no product to sell? Interpreted through entertainment, that means every single department loses their job: hair, make up, grips, audio, electric, security, craft service, caterers, PA’s, production staff, producers, editors, and yes, finally, the actors. Little old Zach Braff is out of work! Maybe he can do something about that hair, now that he’s free of distraction.
How Dare They Put a Face This Nebbishy Out of Work
Now translate those same lay offs to every single scripted show you know of. It quickly adds up to a lot of people. And then the studios start laying off their development teams because they have no new material to develop, the agencies start laying off agents cause they have no one to represent, and little kids start waking up with the dream of doing something creative cause this trade is in such disarray. OK, a little extreme, I’ll admit, but you get the point.
I’d deliberated a lot about writing this article. Obviously it was a subject I had to broach, but I was hesitant because of how real this thing is; how seriously it’s affected my life directly. I don’t want to sound like a crackpot, but mouthing off too much could someday indirectly affect my chances at joining the guild, or making it as a writer. And again, that’s all conspiracy theory at its best, but the mind does wander. Once it was all said and done though, I realized I had to speak about it. After all, I’m in the throes of this thing here. It’s my duty to tell every one of you exactly what it’s like. Not some filtered news-source version of Timmy lost his dog, but Timmy actually standing up and saying, “I lost my dog.”
Well, I did lose my dog, but that’s another story. And it’s Scott actually, not Timmy, but thanks for the intro. This strike sucks. It laid me off in the middle of the holidays, and it couldn’t have crippled me more. And it’s not really the money that I care about. I can make money. We all can. But knowing that I was on the brink of my first (and possibly only) break into sit-com writing literally days before this began, I can’t help but think that the last year I spent on my creative endeavors has gone to waste. I know that it’s not as simple or extreme as that, but you never know. That could have been my one shot, and it could have slipped through the cracks due to circumstances beyond my control. And what can I do about that save for look up at the sky, shake my fist at a cloud, and wonder if I was born 6 months later, would things have worked out differently?
It Works On So Many Levels
I guess I just feel like a lot of people see this solely as the studios trying to screw the writers or vice versa. It’s easy to forget there’s a ton of people in the middle who can only stand there with a picket sign that reads “FUCK BOTH SIDES, I’M OUTTA WORK!”
Download:
MP3: Serge Gainsbourg-”Strike”
MP3: Destroyer-”Strike”
Posted in Great Scott | 1 Comment »
November 18th, 2007
I only received a few hundred words in the Times to review Free at Last, mainly because I couldn’t tell my editor in good faith that the record deserved more. I get why people have been buzzing on it. The first two leaked singles (”It’s Over”) and the Jay-Z collabo were nice. And sure, the Roc’s back and that deserves some ink, even though Beans-excluded, Jay’s track record at exposing new talent to to the world is piss-poor (or have you forgotten Sauce Money and A-Mil?). Not to mention the fact that both Curtis and S. Dot are on-board as Executive Producer’s. But honestly, after listening to Free at Last, I’m convinced that he only got the back cover of the Fader because the hipster nation admired the sheer lustrousness of his beard.
I’ve been reading Check the Technique lately and more than anything it re-affirmed the stark differences between the hip-hop of yesteryear versus that of today. Specifically, the importance that rappers previously placed on originality. Whether it was De La’s black hippies gimmick, M.O.P’s rap as Premo-produced scream metal, or Digital Underground’s hip-hop Funkadelic, it was damn near impossible to make a name for oneself without a fresh identity. Sometime in the last decade that idea was lost (and yes, I imagine it has something to do with Puffy).
In a rap world where Young Jeezy isn’t laughed out of the building and “journalists” don’t bat an eyelash at calling Lil Wayne the greatest rapper alive, Freeway is certainly far from bad. But he’s even further from being good. Strip him of big name guest appearances and his Just Blaze-lite beats and the guy is nothing more than another humorless “hustler/rapper” (and not the other way around.) I called Free “JV Jay-Z” in the Times review, but that might be a bit too charitable. He’s more like a poor man’s AZ. The type of MC that can spit a solid 16, but one summarily incapable of projecting himself as anything more than a) a hustler b) a cocaine aficionado c) someone who reps the streets (and yes, Free at Last actually has a song called “Reppin’ the Streets.”). Don’t get me wrong, Free at Last certainly has its moments. But truthfully, you’re better off playing Reasonable Doubt for the 532nd time, or even digging up that old copy of Do or Die, or hell, trying to grow your very own billy goat beard.
Review of Free At Last in the LA Times
MP3: Freeway-”It’s Over”
MP3: Freeway ft. Jay-Z-”Roc-A-Fella Billionaires”
Posted in LA Times, Album Reviews | 13 Comments »
November 16th, 2007
I wrote this for the LA Weekly last month. Unfortunately, it didn’t run due to space constraints. I know it isn’t timely and I know most of you don’t like Sunset Rubdown. Deal with it.
It’s barely halfway through Sunset Rubdown’s hour-long set and Spencer Krug is already drenched, sweat flinging from his finger-tips as he flails at a beat-up Yamaha keyboard with a deranged phantom fury. This isn’t the opera though (I believe that’s reserved for Joanna Newsom next month at the Disney Concert Hall), instead the band is transposing the haunting Maurice Sendak fantasia of their most recent record, Random Spirit Lover, to a three-quarters full El Rey Theater.
Before vaulting into the bleeding synths and myth-rock of “Winged/Wicked Things” Krug pauses for as second, boyishly smirking into the microphone. His face is partially lit-up by the pale light of a desktop lamp perched just to his left, a lamp he’s lugged across the country, night after night as Sunset Rubdown has canvassed the country non-stop over the past 12 months, first behind last year’s brilliant Shut Up I Am Dreaming and now for the recently released and similarly great, Random Spirit Lover. Speaking for the first time beyond a few cursory thank you’s, Krug timidly declares “we’ve never played in such a fancy venue before.” Without missing a beat, the band’s keyboardist/melodica player/self-described lone female on a bus with 11 other guys, Camilla Wynn Ingr playfully teases him: “well, you have.”
All Sunset, No Rubdown
Ingr’s addressing the 800 lb. elephant, er…. wolf in the room, the fact that it was only a month ago when Krug played to a much fuller house with his other band, Canadiandie royalty, Wolf Parade, with a crowd that included more than a few suds-swilling frat boys sucked in by the acclaimed Montreal band’s Sub Pop pedigree and much more democratic guitar rock. But there is little overlap tonight, with the demographics even less diverse, unless diversity counts as being split even between graduates of Otis, Cal Arts, and the Art Center. It’s just as well. Sunset Rubdown is probably too raw and weird to cross-over, with Krug’s lyrics a dizzying jag of surrealist animal imagery. The sort of uncomfortable honesty that only makes sense drunk, rambling, stoned in the ashy delirium of 3:00 a.m (which ostensibly, would make it perfect for frat boys.)
Most striking about this band is their ability to transpose the feverish revelation and atavistic urgency of their albums into the live setting. Whereas first, it merely appeared to be Spencer Krug’s vanity project, Sunset Rubdown have congealed into a tight working unit capable of rendering obscure EP cuts (“Three Colours”) into sprawling quasi-psychedelic three-guitar heavy jams or letting loose into a two drummer freak out that was almost danceable were it actually possible to dance with a straight face to a song called ““The Taming of the Hands That Came Back to Life.” Most importantly, the band did so without compromising the behind-closed-doors emotionalism and off-kilter instrumentation that makes them so unique in the first place. Despite this being their fist time in fancier digs, Sunset Rubdown seemed at home, channeling the early morning desperation and private confessionals presumably composed in the pale and lonely light that lingered in the background.
Download:
MP3: Sunset Rubdown-”Winged/Wicked Things”
MP3: Sunset Rubdown-”Up On Your Leopard, Upon The End Of Your Feral Days”
Posted in Beards, Blazers, & Glasses | 1 Comment »
November 15th, 2007
I immediately dismissed White Williams after noticing he was tabbed as the opening act on the Girl Talk/Dan Deacon Hipster Headache 07! tour (sponsored by Dewars.) Then I saw his album art, begging to be filed into the “why can’t irony finally die?” category. But upon closer examination, wading into this American Apparel infested territory looked shockingly promising, considering the album art featured two people hitting a hookah and exhaling the word, Smoke. Good enough for me.
Unlike his ex-tourmates, Williams’ music doesn’t sound like it was composed after an all-night snort-fest consisting of 4 Adderrals, two rails, and a few pixie sticks for good measure (dude, you haven’t lived until you’ve taken bumps from the green flavor). Instead, the man born Joe Williams pays homage to the archetypal hipster tropes: Bowie, Eno, Roxy Music, T. Rex, Beck. While the sound might not be that original , the 23-year old New Yorker has synthesized his influences well to produced one of the year’s best debuts. As Eric “Marathon Packs” Harvey so aptly put it in his Pitchfork review, “Smoke could be Midnite Vultures Redux: Something for the Blunted.”
So while White Williams might roll with a few too many emaciated dudes in throwback Pirates caps, ultimately Smoke deserves some burn (da-dum ching). Even if he’s a lot less cool than White Goodman (who would most certainly whip that flabby Dan Deacon into shape.).
But Seriously, I Really Do Have Shackles
Th
Download:
MP3: White Williams-”Headlines”
MP3: White Williams-”The Shadow”
Posted in Album Reviews | 2 Comments »
November 14th, 2007
Forget the fact that “The Barrell Bros.” sounds like the title of an 8-bit NES game or maybe a Providence-based gross-out comedy made by the Farrelly’s, because the latest single leaked from The Big Dough Rehab is great. Why they released the underwhelming “Celebrate” first is beyond me. “The Barrell Bros” is just a snarling beast, reading like Madlib’s “Block Rock” filtered through a Vincent Price score; full of eerie synths squealing like poltergeists, hard ominous drums and Ghost, Styles and Beanie spitting with the frantic hunger of escaped convicts. No hyperbole today. Just smoke a blunt and play this loud in your car. (Grape-flavored and Jeeps are highly recommended, respectively).
Download:
MP3: Ghostface ft. Beanie Sigel & Styles-”Barrell Brothers
MP3: Ghostface-”Block Rock”
Posted in Miscellany | 10 Comments »
November 14th, 2007
I’m sure I could ramble on for a few thousand words about my trip to New York but something seems inherently retarded in that. Of course, there’s something inherently retarded about blogging, so you’ll just going to have to settle for a few half-baked observations about my trip through the Eastern Seaboard. Like that all-knowing oracle Howie Mandel once said, “deal or no deal.” (Then again, Howie Mandel posed for this photograph, so in truth, he cannot be trusted).
- The thing about Los Angeles is that no matter how much you try to pretend that it isn’t all sunshine, fake tans and Hollywood dreams going to seed, you end up on the airplane out of town, sitting behind a bleached 20-something updating her resume to include a new MTV horror/reality/comedy show. True story. She wore massive aviators and spent the entire six-hour plane ride trying to master the art of looking affected and disaffected at the same time. Worst of all, she listened exclusively to Creed and Papa Roach.
- I spent most of my first weekend hanging out with the writers from Stylus. Great guys, all of them, and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to be to tactful. However, like LA producing nothing but aviator-clad zombies laboring over the minutiae of their IMDB pages, if you get a bunch of music writers together chances are it occasionally ends up sounding like a bad chapter from Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs. Like seeing the Joy Divison biopic as a group in the East Village, or debating the merits of esoteric writers who wrote columns for Spin in 1993, or talking about that L’il Wayne fellow that the kids seem to love. Bringing up L’il Wayne is like yelling fire in a crowded room. The next thing you know everyone has stopped paying attention to the cute girls sitting at the table next to you and instead only want to deliberate the meaning of the phrase “my dreadlocks swing on my back like Rapunzel.” This is all true except for the Rapunzel part. But really, Wayne should be disqualified as being considered a Great rapper for comparing himself to Rapunzel (and/or Tahitian Treats). It’s not like Biggie was comparing himself to Goldilocks.
- The bar scene in New York is a lot cooler than the ones in LA (duh). The problem with LA bars (other than the 1:30 last calls and complete absence of effective mass transit) is that if you want to do something considered cool you end up hanging out almost exclusively with assholes. By contrast, New York seemed to have bars every 10 staggers, plus a surfeit of secret speak-easy spots that play only David Bowie. (Mostly). At this point, I’m reasonably convinced that NYC bars are contractually obligated to play one David Bowie song a night. Though, said Bowie song must be selected no earlier than Hunky Dorie-era Bowie and no later than “China Girl.”
As A Music Blogger I Am Contractually Forbidden to Say Anything Bad About David Bowie
- Despite the ever-wise Tal Rosenberg’s admonition that “the China Town Bus is mad sketchy,” and Zilla Rocca’s sound advice to keep my eyes peeled for the Narc’s, I still decided to take the Chinatown Bus to visit Zilla in Philly. Needless to say, it isn’t recommended unless you’re into being stranded with for three hours in the cold in nowheresville Jersey. However, if you do get stranded for three hours in Jersey, the only way to keep your sanity is to go into a nearby gas station, purchase a blunt and proceed to smoke out the only three people on your bus that don’t strictly speak Mandarin.
- Luckily, I finally made it to Philly and drank 40s in front of South Philly High with Zilla, his manager Big O, and briefly, Zilla’s Clean Guns partner, Nico the Beast. The encounter left me convinced that Nico the Beast is currently the winner of the Ol’ Dirty Bastard Award for Most Accurate Nickname in Rap. Dude is literally a beast. Like 6′1 250 lbs. and not a fat 250 either, like could start on D-line for the Eagles huge. Coupled with the fact that Big O is even bigger and scarier-looking than Nico, I’m willing to bet that in an indie-rap Royal Rumble, no one would want to fuck with Beat Garden.
- I did not see Percee P out in front of Gray’s Papaya. This was kind of disappointing. Instead, I bought Check the Technique at Fat Beats, got told by a clerk that the music stores in LA suck (thanks, dude) and ended up finding a $4 hardcover copy of Portnoy’s Complaint from a guy selling books on the street. Combined with the french fries and the soup that I got at Waverley Diner across the street, it more than made up for Percee’s absence.
But Whose Idea Was It To Name A Hot Dog Stand After a Discolored Tropical Fruit?
- I like Joy Division a lot. They’re a very good band, probably a great one, but one I just don’t listen to all that much. For one thing, I’m not 21, epileptic and with vaguely Goth tendencies. For another, they make a kind of somber rainy day music that doesn’t make much sense in precipitation-less LA. But just because their Manchester gloom works well in NYC, it still doesn’t give DJs the right to play “Love Will Tear Us Apart” twice in the same night. This actually happened to me my last night in the City and it was within a mere two hours of each other. C’mon dude, there are like 11,212 great songs in existence (rough estimate) and you’re playing the same played-out hipster anthem twice in 120 minutes? Though to be fair, the DJ deserves credit for playing Bell Biv Devoe’s “Poison” and “Set Adrift On Memory Bliss.” And granted as wack as PM Dawn were (and I believe wack is the only suitable descriptor tag), I’ll ride any day for the inherent greatness/hilarity of “Set Adrift On Memory Bliss.” I apologize in advance.
- After consuming 11 or so Dunkin’ Donuts’ French Vanilla-flavored Iced Coffees (with cream and sugar), I’m convinced that Los Angeles can not and should not be considered a major American city until has a Dunkin’ Donuts franchise. Of course, the problem is that if Los Angeles did have a Dunkin’ Donuts, it would be marketed as a “trendy Dunkin’ Donuts” and the Olsen Twins would go there and Paris Hilton and Lindsey Lohan and Satan dressed up as the Crow.
- In fact the only thing that made me nostalgic for Cali in my week-long absence was the aforementioned DJ spinning “California Love.” Take that for what you will.
- Other miscellaneous revelations and shame-less plugs for friends that don’t fit in anywhere: I met up with Nerd Litter in New York and feel compelled to tell the world that he’s not actually a nerd. His blog name is just a clever ruse. But it is a good site and you should read it unless you don’t want to, in which case that’s cool, have fun being a Calvinist. I also had the opportunity to break bread with Barry Schwartz, the mad genius behind Disco Vietnam. Listen to his music, friend him on the Myspace, write him a sonnet.
Download:
MP3: David Bowie-”China Girl”
MP3: Lil Wayne-”Dipset”
MP3: Clean Guns-”We Just Run Things”
MP3: Joy Division-”Love Will Tear Us Apart”
MP3: Disco Vietnam-”The NP (Natalie Portman)”
If you know someone who uses drugs on a day to day basis and you think they need help with their drug use then it may be a good idea to look into drug rehab for the right place for them. Sometimes drugs can get a grip on people beyond what they can handle so finding drug treatment for them may save their life.
Posted in Miscellany | 10 Comments »
