Fossilized
2006-08-09 5:43 p.m.
I�m a big fan of new words to the English language, like �pistol-whip�---
Man, you want to talk about feeling ancient�
I don�t really have much issue with age. I�m happy to get older / wiser. I don�t feel I have a damned thing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. I like being older. I like looking at older women. I like the responsibility thing and all that, so �feeling� old isn�t that terrible of a thing for me, but still should be noted.
For instance, when surrounded by about 8 � 10,000 19-22 year olds at a 12 hour hip hop concert. De La on the stage setting the crowd straight with a couple joint from 3 Feet High. A skinny little fucker is hopping around and nudged me, turned around�
�I know you know this shit!!�
�Of course I know this shit, the question is how the fuck do YOU know this shit, son?�
�I know all of De La�s joints!! What you know about�� (some miscellaneous quizzing about early-90�s hip hop)
�Sheeeit, I was bumping pre-releases of all that shit on vinyl to crowded rooms when you were learning how to shave.�
Dap given, a couple jokes passed and he hopped off into the crowd. The Rock The Bells joint this weekend was sick. But I�d no idea it was going to be 12 hours long. At about 8 hours in, every bone in my body was soundly wedged against its nearest neighbor.
I always figured the idea of concrete being bad for your back to be some silly myth for old people to complain about. But no. No. No no no no no. No no. No. My hips, back, neck, shoulders and knees were all permanently locked into place ensuring a complete lack of comfort and movement without sounding like a creaky door.
TBX was feelin it too, but he�s a couple years younger and a few pounds larger. Dehydration was fucking with him more than age. I was ready to be out. I�d seen all these cats on stage a few times each � including their crowd pleasing techniques and special guests and whatnot. No use in seeing a show, even an incredible one, if you can�t enjoy it. But I couldn�t do it. TBX came all the way the fuck out here from the Bronx for this. I�d just have to troop through.
Luckily, I turn to see who�s leaning on my shoulder and it�s an adorable lil� thing of about 22 standing on a chair, which made her exactly my height. I looked down and noticed her two cute lil friends looking up. I guess they were taking turns with the chair.
�How tall are you??�
�6�6�
�Me Too!!�
�You�ve got a hell of a yell for such a little thing�
�I have to make sure Mos Def can hear me�
�I�m pretty sure Brooklyn can hear you�
A lil more banter, a few apologies when they held my shoulder for balance to switch places, a few mixed glances as the night went on and suddenly I had a reason to stick around. We got more familiar within an hour and next I know they�re in front of us dancing with plenty more nudges and bumps to come along.
But they left about an hour early. The loud one gave an extra few seconds of lingering for me to take the opportunity to get her info. I, on the other hand, was in far too much pain to give a damn about a phone number.
Yes indeed, the exact definition of getting old.
About 15 minutes after they were gone, all that damned pain came right backing full force. The expensive watered down beer had long warn off, the kids were getting restless about the idea that they would see Wu Tang live, the nudging and pushing got a bit more aggressive, and I noticed couple dirty looks being traded in the periphery. It was time to leave these kids to have their fun.
We limped our way through the massive crowd, finally realizing just how far in were were and how many people were at this thing. It took about 15 minutes to get to the concessions, and it�s not because I couldn�t get through the crowd. People see my tall as coming through hand they just step right aside. There were just that many people.
We grabbed some waters, p[assed on the tacos in the hopes of some Denny�s after our ride showed, watched a lil more of the show from by the concessions and left before the Wu finished up to beat the crowd.
On the way out, we got barraged by promoters for other miscellaneous shows that would be nothing like the one we were leaving. I barely-cute asian lil thing with a backpack grabs my left arm and shoves a flyer into my hand, looks me dead in the eyes�
�Do you like hip hop?�
�I can�t stand the shit. As a matter of fact� Fuck Hip Hop.�
�Oh. My God. Why? Why would you come to this concert?!�
I shot her a look... Paused� Nothing there� she was blank and confused. I shook my head and started off.
�Ooooohhhh� Sarcaaaasssaaaaaaamm�
Fuckin LA.
---
Oh, one more thing. Supernatural was behind the show the whole time working on beating the world record of 8:45 (hours) freestyling. He got to 9 hours and some minutes. That�s cool and all. I have mad respect for Super Nat.
But what the FUCK do you freestyle about for 9 hours? What do you even TALK about for 9 hours? What do you WRITE about for 9 hours?! What the fuck do you do ANYTHING about for 9 hours?! And don�t tell me about fucking, because you know damn well that after 2 or 3 hours everything�s far too red and raw to be fun, which is fairly fitting for just about anything else.