To top
Your Cart
UNTITLED, 2015

UNTITLED, 2015

By Alexander Spit

I’m drunk.

My face is glowing red because when I’m drunk my face glows red. I’m also bored. I’m bored because it is Christmas Eve and on Christmas Eve the city is dead. It’s Christmas Eve and I felt like I was 14 earlier. When I was 14, I would dig through my parents medicine cabinet for prescription meds and then I’d look on the internet to research what kind of high they give you. I’m not high at all right now.

I’m Filipino so I call my Grandmother Lola. My Lola keeps trying to feed me even though I tell her I’m not hungry. Her husband died this year. Her husband was my Grandfather. I’m Filipino so I called my Grandfather Lolo. I don’t think I ever saw my Lolo stressed out. I hope that gene is lingering in my DNA somewhere. Right now I’m stressed out because I don’t know how much time I have left in chasing this dream of being a rapper.

I went on a rap tour this year. I opened every night and when I walked onto stage, 2000 kids were cheering. They didn’t know who they were cheering for. I told them my name a lot. Many people forgot by the end of the night because they weren’t there for me. The ones that remember found me on social media. I wonder what they think of me now that they see my Twitter. I usually use Twitter when I’m drunk.

This year, after 17 years of smoking cigarettes, I quit smoking cigarettes. I also quit regularly eating healthy. I also quit running and working out. I’m sure those will become New Years Resolutions.

I really need to drop some music in 2016. The last album I dropped was in 2013. Since then, I’ve made over 150 songs for the album. Right now there’s about 9 I’m okay with you hearing. My friend and roommate Tim Butcher heard a lot of those songs. He was really great at making me feel like everything I did was amazing. Tim played my song “Tequila Mockingbird” when it was his turn to DJ on the stoop. Tim made everyone he talked to feel important. Tim passed away this year.

Tim reminded me a lot of Sammy Winston. Sammy always reminded me of how great San Francisco is. I shared a wall with Sammy when I lived in Downtown Los Angeles. Some days he didn’t know I was home and I’d hear him screaming at the top of his lungs. When we’d talk later, it’d be by our fire escape while smoking cigarettes and his voice would be calm. He wore his heart on his sleeve. He always told me to stand up for things I believe in. He died this year on the 4th of July saving his roommates from a fire.

There are many things I want to do before I die. Before I die, I wouldn’t mind being famous. I don’t ever want to be famous for nothing. I want to be famous for the things I create. I want to create things that remind you that there is more than the rat race. To become famous, I need to get better at the rat race. Being better at the rat race means you got your shit together. Having your shit together means you aren’t publicly trying to find the answers to all this mess. People can’t stomach the reality that there are actually people on the other side of the screen trying to find answers to all this mess. No one on the other side of the screen has their shit together. I’m far from having my shit together.

One day I will be famous and I still won’t have my shit together.

Brands typically have their shit together. Today we as people on the Internet are brands. As brands, we provide answers and responses to the here and now via the perspective and dimension of those on the winning end of experience, trials, and tribulations. I am a brand and most importantly, a person that showcases that pursuit of understanding while knee-deep in, trying to understand. Some will call this bad marketing. I call it wearing my heart on my sleeve. Wearing your heart on your sleeve feels like a tattoo. Tattoos are statements and most importantly a choice you can’t regret.

I guess I ain’t trippin’.

***

HIDE COMMENTS