Before I get into my weekend adventure, I will share a couple of thoughts I have about Arizona:
1. If it weren't for family, friends, and music I would never go back there.
2. There has never been a time that I have visited and not gotten myself into some sort of trouble.
Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of fond memories of the roadrunner state. I learned amazing things about music. I forged bonds with unique people. I made horrific mistakes. However, I swear that AZ is competing with Texas for the top slot on the list of ass-backwards states.
So I started the weekend the way everyone should; good company and an alcoholic beverage. In my circle, "drinks with friends" usually means binge drinking while playing stupid games - then mercilessly ridiculing those who can't hold their liquor. I mean, what kind of friend invites you over, pays for the beer, then draws a penis on your face? Ain't love grand!
But the REAL reason for my trip to AZ was to pick up some beats and hear the greatest lyricist of the west coast: Crooked I. This brotha is extremely dope. He also scares the shit out of me. He came to the venue, ten deep with some vicious dudes. Now I have seen my fair share of shit, but these guys looked like they ate it for breakfast. I started thinking about my crew and had to laugh. Sumatyme, master wordsmith and avid comic collector. Damn, I'm fearsome.
Whatever. I suppose I'm just marveling how we treat those closest to us. I have a friend going through a rough divorce. How do I offer solace and show solidarity? By making fun of her for not getting any booty. "A true friend stabs you in the front." To all of mine near, far, lost, found, drunk, or sober... I love you all. Now fuck off.
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