Spotted this wall in an Eastside neighborhood that felt like season one of The Wire. Last night, with freak-folk kids playing with violons, banjos, and tambourines  and claironets, metro detroit girls with cool glasses drinking pbr, and some kid riding a stolen bike skillfully dissing everyone in the room over guitar chords, my romanticized Kalamazoo finally appeared.

The reverse culture shock didn’t hit too hard until staying in my hometown for three weeks. The combination of driving long distances constantly, music I remember from junior varsity basketball playing in the clubs, and lots of wack females, e.g. this one trollop  - ” I work for Merrill Lynch, you probably don’t know what that is,” often led me to just chillin’ out in the countryside with family and the giant rottweiler-bear that guards our castle. Last night started seemingly tame evening eating chicken and lots of rolls and watching Pineapple Express [tight, but True Romance = somewhat similar and superior], but ended with freestyles going until 4:47 am.  Kalamazoo hadn’t disintegrated, I just needed a porch with some characters.

Once, in another nostalgic town, on a Saturday morning, shoes on, on the couch, I woke up to this vinyl my friend copped from some junkie behind a dumpster in New York. Dude praised my friend’s “heavy taste.” I’m going to New York this weekend, looking forward to some equally bizarre escapades. I can’t believe I slept on Gil Scott Heron for so long. Pieces Of A Man came out in 1971, and loads of cats sampled it afterward including MF Doom. This record fits perfectly with any situation, e.g. on the late-night tip or mixed with broken robot syndrome and a half-opened blind around 11:00 in the morning.

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Gil Scott Heron - When You Are Who You Are

Gil Scott Heron - The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Gil Scott Heron - Lady Day and John Coltraine

Gil Scott Heron - Or Down You’ll Fall