My hommie Dean called me and left a message once with another friend of ours singing "Let's go surfin' now." I still have it saved. This weekend he turned 30. He left me a message saying "Karin. Its Dean. I'm turning old this weekend. Yeah, 30. I'm gonna need to see you this weekend and throw water baloons at you. I've got goals, Karin. Goals."
I met up with him on Sunday. We saw Pato Banton (see also kickass Reggae,) for free in the beautiful sunshine. Pato dedicated a song to the preggos. And I stood next to some deaf folks and got to thinking how they must experience the vibrations of a concert. Made me really feel connected to the parasite. I started thinking about that song dedicated to shim and how it was all bouncing around in fluid to the vibrations of reggae and it just felt so good. Next thing you know the show's over and Dean's running around in the snow trying to fly a kite.
Afterwards a bunch of friends played hacky sack in the sun. Baby's first hack went off okay. Shim can stall that shit.
Then yesterday I stopped by Dean's and teepeed his room. Just for fun. He knew it was me though. I was the first person he guessed. He called all giggly. It made me really happy.
Life's pretty sweet.
What an asshole.
1 day ago