I’M BACK IN NEW YORK AND IT FINALLY FEELS LIKE HOME
I'm back in New York.
Moving into my new two bedroom NYC apartment which I loved and got by myself, no one else on the lease, no cosigner. I'm really proud of myself for that as just 7 years ago, I was in this city with no real home, hopping couches, working 3 jobs at once. I was overworked and all over the place. I look at my new apartment, and see something safe. Something real. I can’t believe Barstool provided this all to be possible. Sometimes I just sit alone and feel it all. I can close my eyes and Im back in 2013 with Ice, fresh to the city, big eyed, and naive. I can remember falling in “summer love”, and then having my first real heartbreak, as I learned a big lesson about NYC dating. I can still remember the futon we shared to sleep in that small apartment in Flatbush. 4 of us in a 1 bedroom smaller than my current living room. But we made it work. I remember leaving that place and on to another. I remember my suitcase being put on the steps, because I wouldn’t “put out.” I remember feeling there was no real place for me to call home in New York. I remember finally renting a room. I remember how they went in and stole all my stuff while I was in Texas. I remember resenting the city during those ice cold months, as 2014 was the worst winter in 60 years. I remember booking the plane ticket to California in March 2015. I remember jumping into an altercation that had nothing to do with me, cause of my excessive need to protect my “friends”, I remember fighting 7 girls at once as they rushed me outside of my going away party at The Flat in Brooklyn and beating them all up. I remember leaving the city with a bad taste in my mouth. . 6 years later, Im back in the city. To stay. It feels different. I feel stable. With a lot more money, and a lot less friends. I watch the city go by from my windows, each person in their own world.
All of a sudden, Im taken back to the Astroworld chaos last week. I tear myself from the window in tears. Music festivals are supposed to be a safe place. They’re supposed to be the one place you have no worries. Instead 9 people are dead. In my opinion, for different reasons. The sloppy planning of the festival, the overall lack of comprehension for what was expected to happen at a show like Travis Scotts, and the lack of music festivals that come to Houston (overexcitement of fans). I guarantee festivals with the same amount of attendees like Tyler The Creator (Camp Flognaw), GoldenVoice (Coachella), Tariq & the two Matts (Rolling Loud) put extra EXTRA money into security and medics. As a performing artist, and as a concert goer, I feel for both sides. Ive performed for 10k (can’t imagine 50k), and I couldn’t hear anything that wasn’t in my headset or see past 10 feet in front of me. The stage lights are bright and hot, beaming down on you. You kinda lose yourself performing in front of that many people. But on the other hand, I come there as a concert goer, thinking Im about to have the time of my life. Not end it. I think about the 9 year old who fell from his fathers shoulders, I think of the 15 year old who never got to reach his potential, I think of the 22 year old girl who became brain dead. I see her mother on the news crying, screaming. It sends chills down my spine. I try to snap out of the state Im in, as I already pushed back EP2’s taping of The Tiko Ten to Tuesday, as my mental state for this week, combined with moving, felt too heavy. I know I have to get it together. Rent’s due again in 2 weeks, all the parts are moving, and I can’t slow down. Not even to feel. But today I feel it all. And I take the time to feel it, as I know tomorrow ill do better. But for today, I plop down on my bed, I cry a little, I eat a bit, I smoke alot, and I just feel. I feel sad yet grateful. I feel hurt yet alive. I feel lonely yet focused. I feel different yet accepted. and I feel like Im on my way, just yet not quite there. I sit on the floor of my apartment, IPA in one hand, joint in the other. The phones ringing but I don't answer. I'll call back. Instead I send up a Thank you to the Most High. and I find solace in the fact that Ive come this far. No turning back.
All of a sudden, Im taken back to the Astroworld chaos last week. I tear myself from the window in tears. Music festivals are supposed to be a safe place. They’re supposed to be the one place you have no worries. Instead 9 people are dead. In my opinion, for different reasons. The sloppy planning of the festival, the overall lack of comprehension for what was expected to happen at a show like Travis Scotts, and the lack of music festivals that come to Houston (overexcitement of fans). I guarantee festivals with the same amount of attendees like Tyler The Creator (Camp Flognaw), GoldenVoice (Coachella), Tariq & the two Matts (Rolling Loud) put extra EXTRA money into security and medics. As a performing artist, and as a concert goer, I feel for both sides. Ive performed for 10k (can’t imagine 50k), and I couldn’t hear anything that wasn’t in my headset or see past 10 feet in front of me. The stage lights are bright and hot, beaming down on you. You kinda lose yourself performing in front of that many people. But on the other hand, I come there as a concert goer, thinking Im about to have the time of my life. Not end it. I think about the 9 year old who fell from his fathers shoulders, I think of the 15 year old who never got to reach his potential, I think of the 22 year old girl who became brain dead. I see her mother on the news crying, screaming. It sends chills down my spine. I try to snap out of the state Im in, as I already pushed back EP2’s taping of The Tiko Ten to Tuesday, as my mental state for this week, combined with moving, felt too heavy. I know I have to get it together. Rent’s due again in 2 weeks, all the parts are moving, and I can’t slow down. Not even to feel. But today I feel it all. And I take the time to feel it, as I know tomorrow ill do better. But for today, I plop down on my bed, I cry a little, I eat a bit, I smoke alot, and I just feel. I feel sad yet grateful. I feel hurt yet alive. I feel lonely yet focused. I feel different yet accepted. and I feel like Im on my way, just yet not quite there. I sit on the floor of my apartment, IPA in one hand, joint in the other. The phones ringing but I don't answer. I'll call back. Instead I send up a Thank you to the Most High. and I find solace in the fact that Ive come this far. No turning back.
