Anonymous asked: Which is your favorite Rudy Wade & why?
All three because Joe Gilgun, bitch
At one point during the night I became engulfed in this rant that Bubba Sparxxx’s “Ugly” is a critical work of sociological class analysis and the only true work dedicated to revealing the basic underlying similarity between “poor” genres, but I was also incredibly stoned and drinking far too much tequila, and so was everyone else.
Then again, I click the little red heart on them pictures (like, damn, ladies) so “A Grammar Of Motives” right up my hypocritical ass, then.
man, if only I was a hot chick who posted semi-revealing (and occasionally full on revealing) pictures of myself on the reg, I’d have hella more followers. but then no one ever went broke selling on sex and buying high on the interstice of being desirable/interesting. also I keep saying “hella” way too much, which I blame on smoking intense amounts of weed in the south bay. SEMPER FART FART FART FART FART FART (to be cont. on Page 3)
jeff-schmeff asked: What kind of sandwich was it?
Roast beef, bacon, aioli, and tomato. It had some funky name like The Gremlin Captain or something dumb, but it was pretty fucking tasty.
Anonymous asked: Why are you so rude?
Because I don’t differentiate between modes of knowing.
It’s been a decent day. Had the day off, so I got to business as usual — cranked a couple out (nothing flashy, just the usuals), read some, played some Spec Ops: The Line, walked around the neighborhood, made a sandwich, recovered from the hangover, scoured a few bookstores for particular sci-fi and crime novels, mused on the nature of my failed relationships (trust and compromise issues, duhr), debating the merit of Infinite Jest with a barista, messed with a street petitioner, talked about Kool G. Rap with a guy on the 22, wandered around the Mission and mused about how I’ve always kind of fucking hated the Mission because it’s always been either shitty or horrifying no matter whether it was hood hipster or techie town, remembered I have to clean the shit out of my room before I have anyone over again, wondered if my morals are starting to slip again (no really), realized my phone was dying from arguing on facebook about what specific animals my friends and I would be due to our predilections, and headed home. Here we go again. Time to…relax? Clean? Here we go again, again, again.
I’m working on my theory that the more intellectual and creative pursuits a girl has, the filthier she can dance. There’s a corollary, I know it! I just have to crunch the numbers.
If you don’t leave petitioners/street activists horrified, confused, and doubting the essential humanity of anything and everything, you done goofed. Those people are punchline drone targets.