Holla. I have a vision. If it is like anything else I have ever done, it will take forever for anything tangible to materialize. For you, I am making the extreme effort to write down a few thoughts while I work on this music while self-confined in this tomb of an apartment in SOHO. I wish this place had windows. They add a lot to the rent, however. Actually, I fucking don’t care. Light slows me down. Makes me guilty so I feel like I can’t eat. Makes me itch. Makes me feel like I have work to do. I’m too Lay-Z for any of that bullshit. It makes me feel like mom and dad are crushing my spirit back in good old Ho-Ho-Kus, New Jersey. Sure, the City is close, but who wants to make the effort to get there? I mean my family lacked the courage to actually live in Manhattan. F’n burbs. The suburbs are the home of life’s runner-ups. Sure, son, we could have lived in the City, but… Lemme guess mom and dad, you could have been the boss of that company, you could have finished that marathon, mom. Suburban pussies. Not me. No way. Suburbs mean effort. Cities mean you can become a sloth. That’s where the joy in life is. Find joy. Do nothing. That’s the Lay-Z way.
