After returning from NY my lovely teacher Mrs. Deb Morrison asked the troops to provide her some of the lessons we took back from New York. This is what I came back with. Of course my vision of the assignment would have included stuff about drinking 40s in the street and sleeping on the subway, but she specifically asked for something thoughtful. I deviated a tad, but that's what I do.
Sure, none of these lessons were completely new to me, but they were mos' definitely solidified on the trip. I don't think that these lessons apply exclusively to New York either. Rather, I believe that there are some universal truths at work here. Hopefully anyways.
If not, check out ODB puttin' it down for the slums of Shaolin. Kid was always reppin' NYC to the fullest.
There are not many aromas that I appreciate more than the one you are hit with as you approach an urban convenience store. You know what I'm talking about. It's like the perfect mixture of spilt malt liquor, bum piss, and broken dreams. It gets me every time, and I'm prompted to reminisce of simpler times when slipping a 40 oz. down your pant leg was an everyday thing, and passing around a can of Glade Air Freshener to huff through a rag was a party. The good old days boy. To be a 14 year-old dropout again. Those were the times.
I'm a child in a man's body, a man-child if you will, and I'm okay with that. I've accepted it. It's fun, mostly. It's definitely not something I would recommend if you can help it. It has been my experience that not too many adults (especially females) find it very charming if someone constantly acts like a 12 year-old.
I often wonder if I will ever grow up. Sometimes people look at me (mom, dad, etc.) and I can tell that they are wondering the same. It's not a look of disappointment. It's weird, and I don't think I could do the look justice with a verbal description, so I won't bother. I'm often scared that I will wake up some morning and be mature. I think I can now say with a fair amount of confidence that I can stop wondering.
Today while leaving the grocery store I made an interesting discovery. As I pushed my full cart out the door, I was overcome with glee. This is pretty common when I exit the grocery store actually. It's not brought on by the sense of pride I gain from my bargain shopping abilities ($37 today in bonus buy savings), but rather by the joy I am about to experience as I push my cart as fast as I can and jump on the back for a little ride out to the rig. As I speed through the parking lot with a big shit-eating grin on my face, people give me the same look I previously mentioned. I could care less. I would give them the bird if I didn't have a death grip on the cart handle. As I reached my car I thought, "Who the fuck does that? Nobody over the age of 12 does that." Then I start trying to remember when the last time I witnessed someone else doing this. I couldn't recall, and at that moment it dawned on me--I am Josh Baskin.
