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Death by Party | Young Roddy: What That Is 

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Wilin’ out has changed dramatically for me ever since I heard the term almost 20 years ago.  The first time was passing a schwag Philly blunt in back of the home to my biggest white trash friend listening to Muddy Waters by Redman on his portable cassette player while secretly fantasizing about his older sister, aunt, and step-mom.  This relationship between us didn’t last long.  I went to college and he ended up doing time.  However the meaning of the word stayed the same.

This time around I was wearing turtlenecks in Manhattan high-rises and tapping fine dress shoes over hardwood floors to the tune of underground mix tapes and jazz radio.  The aroma in the air was more sophisticated so much so that it was actually delivered in fancy little corked bottles while the music came from better stereos.  You’d almost think those nights would never come to an end until next thing you know the fantasy becomes reality in the form of a dirty kitchen, a bunch of food orders, and hopes to find a 5-second homemade bong rip freezer break.

The only highlight in the day of a post-grad misled liberal arts major exists in the form of how much of a slut the new young 18 year old (hopefully) food runner looks if you’re lucky enough to work at a joint that goes through new female hires like wildfire.  That image stays with you far past the time you rub it out real quick while washing the smell of fried onions off in the shower after a 12 hour shift, it stays with you on long walks home in the wintertime, and you would swear it stays forever until that day you run into her and her 5 kids under the age of 5 at a Walmart sometime 5 years in the future.  Thankfully the college degree comes into play at some point and life as a slave temporarily comes to an end.  Unfortunately what you have come to know as a session your whole life also comes to an end.

When this war on weed combines with the love of money responsibility is born.  Gone are the days living in the haze.  Scenes of creativity like the one that plays out between Young Roddy and Curren$y wilin’ in the video: ‘What That Is’ begin to lose luster.  You learn to despise what you once loved; the people, the places, the things.  Even a beautiful Asian woman rolling joints all night looks despicable as you sacrifice everything for a slice of the American dream.  And you try, and you try, and you try; and in the end, you fail.  Swimming with sharks isn’t as pretty as it seems when you’ve never tasted success.

And that corked bottle doesn’t look that bad.  It tastes much better than losing everything and having nothing.  Somehow as you walk around in a fading suit you wish you could be that teenager getting high in a rundown backyard, or a Manhattan skyrise, a restaurant kitchen freezer, or even with Young Roddy and Curren$y so you go back to.

By Lou Cervantes

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