Light a candle, blahblahblah: WHAT THE HELL IS UP FACEBOOK.
Out of all the Tumblr-culture whatever type things, I’m pretty sure mine was the only thing to not try to cash in somehow. I never made shirts or stickers or anything, because I have nothing to sell. I just talk about music and fashion that I liked and posted weird nonsense because that’s what I love, and having a 15K fanpage was an incredible way to promote weird underground stuff I love. So thank you, Facebook, for knocking down a music fan and leaving Gucci Mane alone to make the same song for eternity. I know why the caged bird sings.
This weekend was something of a catharsis for me. I played more pop music than I’ve played in a while, which surprised even myself considering how aggressive I felt inside. Somehow feeling like I just railed a fat line of bull hormones made me want to drop track after track of Top 40, not even sure how it got on my hard drive but maybe I’m just a genie in a bottle, baby. Naturally, it’s not entirely straightforward. That would be boring.
From re-imagined rave classics to repurposed Three 6 Mafia tracks, I covered all the bases in the weirdest baseball game ever. Meanwhile I’m punching walls in my brain and everyone on the dancefloor is flinging vodka in the air, three people come up to request Frank Ocean and I spit centipede venom in their eyes: no elevator music.
My finger is twitching toward the array of Coil tracks I keep positioned to shine ’em on between Rihanna and Lindsay, I’m not entirely sure how emotionally constipated this crowd is, if they can feel this like I feel it or if I’ll wipe the floor clean and I say fuck it, if you like it then you should have put a White Ring on it. And the beat drops.
The truth is that nothing is permanent in this plane or the next, and I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing or not. I already feel like a ghost.
RIP GUCCI GOTH FB PAGE
DEAD AT 15K
You used to be my playground…..