There’s no quick, shortcut to the top, shoot even the climb toward the comfortable middle has become a lot more tedious. Whatever journey you take, whatever way you define your American Dream never lose sight of why you’re on the journey before you rush to the destination. Never lose sight of you; never lose sight of what it means to be an American. The nation doesn’t define the people, the people define the nation.

Yoh Issue: Death To The American Dream, Rise of the Entertainment Nightmare.

The music industry of today is the new age California Gold Rush. History is repeating itself, but instead of striking gold, every youth with a microphone is trying to strike a record deal. All the success stories, the money, and fame have conquered a part of our psyche that sees a lifestyle easily acquired with minimum effort. Rappers, musicians, artist in general are some of the most influential individuals of our time. I’m sure there are more youth inspired by the Black Album than the Black President. We adopted the ideal of “rather die enormous than live dormant”. We want to be seen, heard, and acknowledged by any means necessary. Does the means justify the cause? We never question if we should be seen, heard or acknowledged, as if it should be given to us before it’s deserved.

Yoh Issue: Death To The American Dream, Rise of the Entertainment Nightmare.

We are free, some will argue that sentiment, but the chains aren’t visible, we aren’t prisoners, but birds in cages with open doors free to soar wherever and whenever we please. That level of freedom is priceless, and even if the bacon is better in Canada, the prostitutes in Europe are cleaner, legalized marijuana in Australia and China owns our souls –at this very moment there is nowhere else I’d rather be a lazy aspiring writer. I remember being programmed young of the existence of the American Dream, that here lies the greatest opportunity that can befall on man and shouldn’t be squandered. The Dream has changed, it’s been altered and a new ethos represents our current state of deep fried envy, greed, and commercialism.

Yoh Issue: Death To The American Dream, Rise of the Entertainment Nightmare.

This is the first time ever we can see all our mistakes in front of us. My parents used to be, like, ‘Aw man, look at how we used to dress in the ‘70s.’ Now kids are aware of, ‘OK, this is going to look dumb soon.’ We can see our mistakes in real time. That’s why there’s a lot of retro things. So if you’re like, ‘Oh that looks silly,’ well, this is taken from something that already worked so you’re kind of out of the loop.

Childish Gambino

Tonight i’m alive,  slightly reading the journals of a dead man that wrote "they look at a girl,they worry about her words of reproach - but they should only consider the eternity of her vaginal folds all wet and desirous for love". 

Tonight i feel alive. Yesterday the article circulated, read, read, read by many new eyes who thumbs typed praise. I received an email from someone that believes in the path that i stumbled upon in drunk, adventurous confusion. Genuine, sincerity. I felt like Memphis Bleek hearing Jay on the Diamonds Remix. Knowing that i’m only one hit away. 

Tonight i feel like i’m back in that 2014 Bentley. That night i was high on the luxury car scent, Young Jeezy was in the room, many other name-less rich aristocrats enjoying the open bar, pissing out bourgeois bar jokes, checking the stock market app on their iPhone 6s. I didn’t belong but my ego inflated. I was in the room. 

The next day i walked into my job, called by my government just another bee in the colony, the dream had became a nightmare. Now i’ve returned to the dream, one that i belong in, but again the euphoria of feeling nearer to your destination won’t last when at 10 am my alarm will alert my body that its time to return to reality. 12 i’ll enter the first job, 4pm the second, and all my life will be sucked dry. My confidence flushed, another bee that didn’t escape the colony. But for tonight i am alive. I believe. I believe, and i write this as a reminder of tonight blanket of bliss. 

Yeezus is a book that plot has no build up, but climax after climax with no regard for how well the story is articulated; there’s no central theme or idea, it’s subjective punk rock created with no motive but to cum on the face of traditional. Kanye spits on our shoes and tells us it’s raining; after the downpour of saliva I see “Bound 2” as the rainbow. The final track is proof that everything we want from Kanye, the soul samples, the coherent lyricism still exists, that he can wear the College Dropout Teddy Bear costume when willing.