Track 106

Last cleaned out lunch of the Kinder-Year &

it amazes/confuses/surprises me this someone who sometimes misses big moments & some big signs & then some little something like a last lunchbox somehow sums it up.

Markers in time that slap me up.

It’s fast. It’s crazy out here. It’s summer.

 

 

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Track 105 BOOM-RANG BATTLERAP

Hey look- check it-

You probably never had it, so let me explain
I got tap-able strength fills each vein,

Jab- jab-   to left hook ya’ exposed brittle brain
get comfortable with pain      & see
I’m main,
You’re way much earlier in the card
with a soul full of lard
left charred, dismembered then barred,10 count.
Finally the realization sinks in
I’m tasty even raw, you’re just a used plastic straw,
A hole in your center a meaningless stripe-  all hype,
People suck you then chuck you
forget you      & remember
I’m the only keeper,  Sleeper,You’re always late but like fate
I’m always on time,

Like sunrise
I’m the perfect rhyme,
Junk you spit classifies as crime
in my ear,
My-Self expanding this sphere,
piece by peace,   little by lot man I’m huge.Your concept the size of a gnat-
splat     your will is not fat,   spirit rings flat,
Worse than a lab rat->     see   not  a  maze  ing,
Then they get a glimpse of me the mad/rad scientist
blazing,

So saddle up to my class,   oh wait! you can’t,
You chapped, lapped,  in North Cascades without a Map,
Curl up take a nap &
dream how sweet it could have been to be Free Me,

Then never wake up,

Juicy, that’s what they call me when superlatives run out,
Got to start using other tongues in fact,    globally stacked-
Noblesse,  Grandeza, Forte + Estupendo   =   Asombroso  you loco
to think for even a minute you win,

Subtract you
any where any language any time
every line
it’s a sign
you(s) mine

starting now,
Ending never.

BOOM-RANG.    My Time.

White Dessert Sun

Track 103

Email correspondence sent to Wild Buffalo House of Music on 5/23/16 at 8:27AM /
Subject Line “Apologies from Patron/Fan” /
Photo & edits added for emphasis  –>
_________________________________

OK I can say it, I was wrong.  I wanted to get down a message to the Buff kind of calling BS on myself for unsubscribing from your email list (on both my accounts) Friday.  Macklemore/Ryan Lewis, this stuff gets emotional.  


My comments on unsubscribing were fair and thought out I believe, but I’m disappointed in myself for stating the subscriber contacts and updates y’all send “were just another email [in my box]”   just because I/We didn’t get a head’s up on this one.     Not fair Me.    Though I’m bummed I missed out on tickets even seeing some clues in advance, unsubscribing to prove my little point and misdirecting my angst was childish and weak all around.  I fully realize there are variables outside of your control for how/when these tickets are released and do do do appreciate all the back-work it takes to run a business like the Wild Buffalo and get supreme talent up in here to Bellingham.  
 
I’ll continue to come to shows when I can, and will re-subscribe to your emails now.  For us old-timey-30-somethings maybe one day in the future for a “big one” you could do an inside scoop or short advance sale for subscribers.  Just sayin’—>  enough of me though, thanks for your time(s).  
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Track 101

# 101, a sampling of what’s happened for me since #1:

-Got my parents to watch Pearl Jam 20 (all the way through)
-Was mailed music & a GP sticker
-Received poems back
-Became aware that I should be aware of a bear escape route
-Sent Sitting Bull quotage & The Far Side & Griffey!
-Let some things go, got some things back
-My Uncle Rich checked out CCR
-Exchanged movie & music recommendations
-Dusted off the boxing gloves
-Began figuring out how to participate in a video call without 100% awkwardness (more like 72% now)
-Acquired a recipe
-Seahawks Superbowl Win (thinking not a coincidence)
-Got some push back/forward + Solid Advice (appreciated it all)
-Learned a Family Recipe
-Inherited old matchbooks from the White House
-Haunting Seahawks Superbowl loss (thinking not a coincidence)
-Given Comedy endorsements
-Had a second kid
-Battle Rap Persona coming out party
-Honored

Wesley Withrow

Track 98

OK it’s time. Howard Schultz can suck it. How could someone who helped create such an empire be so small? I mean Starbucks coffee is fine and the brand blew up sure, but that guy sold out this community. Hard.

Remember that scene in Pulp Fiction when Bruce Willis goes back into the dark labyrinth for the family watch–> Howard didn’t go back for the watch. He sold it cheap to others and messed with things of cultural import to me + financial significance/jobs for others × many + I’m still mad = I don’t often or lightly throw dirt on a name you feel, but this petty peddler of admittedly fine brew and seemingly fine worker benefits sold me out. He sold us.
I got SuperSonics garb for Christmas and gave Big Smooth a low-five, somehow went to a bar with my Dad and TJ’s with Friends to watch these games, rubbed elbows with Microsoft and Pearl Jam legends at a few, got my non-sporting friend to go up to Jack Sikma for an autograph, saw greatness, experienced loss.

I know it’s a game, but it’s a beautiful game. And I miss it. I’ve been upset before but am now mostly ’cause Howard won’t address/acknowledge/talk at all about it. Come on and speak on this man. And I know deep down this is a waste of my madness but I’m still mad and he’s still rich and will continue to grow richer and they serve Starbucks at the Hawks’ games now and then that makes me mad all over again

but then I get to eat on my own richy rich cake thinkin’ about when they make the not-that-interesting book or the so-so movie about your life’s work, the one starring fake smile average joe actor, the Sonics will be part of that movie. You failed to be a care taker. You plum failed.
Green and Gold will forever be part of the story-line of your enigma filled legacy with Seattle.

It’s where I’ve got to be, up on my magic carpet riding, a tomahawk jam in your facial, kismet on your futures. It’s how I make sense of the anger.

It’s not at all right Lenny Wilkens & GP have no rafters for their numbers to hang in.

You’re on every corner Howard, answer us.