• » Name: Meka Soul
• » Location: Los Angeles, CA
• » Member Since: 04/09/07
• » Bio: Providing clarity in hip-hop since 1981.
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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Off-Kilter Filter

In case you don’t know, I always write my blogs the night before. I do this now because before I’d write so much at my old job I wouldn’t actually do the shit I got paid pesos on the dollar for. Needless to say I spent three months on unemployment while working all kinds of ungodly hours on commercials like Kentucky Fried Chicken to keep the lights on in the shithole I used to stay at in Inglewood. Smelling 11 herbs and spices for 14 hours straight was more than enough to keep me off those shits to this day. Those honey barbeque wings be that crack though.

So now I blog, editorialize, steal music and download pr0n from my little studio apartment here in the middle of the Koreatown section of Downtown Los Angeles. I’d hope the busy streets and lack of 747s flying dangerously low above my skullcap would help me perhaps gain some semblance of clarity I’d lost over the past few years, but I’m beginning to realize I may be even more fucked up than usual. Hell, even one of my closest friends told me I’ve been coming off more misogynistic than before. Of all the shots I’ve taken since spewing my shit for the past year and change, that’s probably one of the few comments that’s gotten to me on a personal level. Word to all the yentas that feel the need to spark bullshit here: unless you’re one of the few people I’ve let into my cipher, I’m not going to be fazed by the faux eye jammies. Lord knows I been through enough bullshit in my realm of madness to let some random-ass hump from a battybwoy township of get me out of pocket.

In any matter, I’m at that stage where I can’t do the same wild and raucous shit that I did back in college, where I could sleep a good three hours then run off to class. Those were the good ol’ days. Where else could you see a bunch of humps get robbed at Uzi-point one night, then have some duke strung the fuck out on that Sherman Helmsley the next? If anything, seeing what life truly has to offer will pop that cocoon of sensibility quickfast. Shit ain’t sweet all the time, and I’ve no reason to be as well when life hands me more shit sammiches than I’d like.

Speaking of bullshit, the Guitar Center was full of it during Pete Rock’s dialogue last night. Standing right behind me was one of today’s illest entities, Jay Electronica, yet nobody outside of myself and another Asian with locks knew who he was. I even had to call out a pair of yentas on that fallacy. I swear sometimes this rap shit makes me feel out of place and out of touch at times, and I’m not even that old to begin with. Real talk is that if I can just lounge on a beach chair with an around-the-way girl under my arm waxing poetics about the lyrical genius that was Kwamé and escape this shit I could, but unfortunately delusions of grandeur can’t pay my bills.

Y’all don’t hear me though.

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