I met Eric in the early/mid 90s when I came walking into the front doors of High School. He came up to me immediately because he recognized me from around and introduced himself. Eric went through a lot of phases, mohawk punk to party club drug dealer and eventually to a train hopper with an ill drug addiction. He was the nicest dude ever and would always strike up a convo and keep it real, but in the last 3 times I saw him things started getting odd. Forgive me, but I'm going to speak the truth.
#1 After being arrested for trafficking, Eric was in the Navy for 5 months? I remember him wearing Navy outfits around Newark for like a year straight.
#2 We met up on Main St. and he was with some younger kids. He started telling them about how long he's known me and that I was his man. I said yeah Eric you know I got you. He then struck up a convo about how he used to see me drunk. I don't drink. He then told me we were boys and he would put blood on it, he slashed his arm so deep he needed stitches to stop the bleeding.
#3 He told everybody he was being held hostage by a dealer and needed to give him money before something bad went down. So he took money out a friends shop to cover "his debt"
When he died a few friends came out to his rescue because no family came forward to pay the funeral home to claim his body. Even with all the dudes Eric know/knew we were all broke, nobody had any money to help out. It was a fucked up situation and I felt bad that I didn't have anything to give Kevin who was collecting cash.
I wish Eric was still around to straighten out his issues. I've watched drugs fuck up my family and close friend's lives. No need to ask me why I don't fuck with drugs. Rest In Power.
Showing posts with label newark. Show all posts
Showing posts with label newark. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
B.LAMB is secretly killing the competition.
Since being released from prison Newark rapper B.Lamb has been doing performances all over New Castle County whenever he can. His quick wit and awkward punchlines have quickly become a trademark. New video for Amateurs Are Average is here. Let's go.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Friday, April 18, 2008
Like Oceans
Flying is a very humbling experience. No matter who you are or where you are from, once you step onto that plane and fasten your seatbelts, you are all equal. Every person onboard, first class or coach, passenger or crew, is immediately at the mercy of not only a giant machine but also a human. Machines and humans have flaws. It is commonly known that men folly, but at 20,000 feet there is not much room for error. But machines and humans do, in fact, have flaws, and things go wrong. The odds are against you, that’s what they say. But the odds get better when the engine fails, or you hit a storm, or the pilot isn’t really a pilot, or someone on the plane wants to bring it down… If something like that happens, then everyone on board instantly has a bond that can never be broken.
Joshua was leaving his fairly normal life for only a week. He had just moved out of his parents’ place and into his own apartment, which he shared with a close friend. He was just out of college, and just into a relationship. He loved everything about his girl. Life just seemed to be going his way recently. He was just hired to work in the PR department of a mortgage company in his hometown of Long Island, New York. They were sending him on a “business trip” to Cancun, Mexico. He knew what “business trip” meant in “business” terms. It was just an official expression for a week long “meet and greet” with the new boss. Luckily for Joshua, he played a lot of golf and smoked cigars…
Joshua got on his flight, 5018 to Cancun, at around 12:30 on a Sunday afternoon. He said goodbye to friends, family, and his girlfriend and hopped on the plane figuring he would be back in a week and could continue with his life. At 23, he was beginning to settle down. He made a steady amount of money at the firm and was ready to move on to the next phase of his life. He wasn’t sure if he was in love or if she was the “one,” but he definitely hoped so.
The trip to Cancun was a projected 6-hour flight. Joshua hated flying. As he sat down in Row 14, Seat C, he let out a sigh of relief to discover he had the window seat. Maybe this flight wouldn’t be so bad after all. Another good omen came when a man not too unlike himself sat down next to him. His name was Andy and his story was much the same. Just going down to Cancun for “business.” They started talking to make things easier for the trip and seemed to hit it off. They started talking about relationships and Joshua began talking about his girlfriend. “She’s got eyes like oceans.” Coincidentally, the plane had just left land behind and was now flying over the Gulf of Mexico. The flight didn’t have much longer. Out from underneath Joshua’s clothes, skin, and bones, came another sigh of relief.
About that time is when the plane got a little shaky. The pilot attempted to reassure the passengers, but Joshua knew something was up. The stewardess’ sat in their seats with worried looks on their faces. Looking out the window, Joshua saw nothing but the blackest clouds he had ever seen. The lights flickered and the plane rocked back and forth. On the drop down monitors that tracked the planes movements, the altitude began slipping closer to zero.
Engine failure. It went down. Fast.
The plane hit the water traveling faster than the speed of sound. Joshua tried to brace himself, but there is no preparation for an impact like that. Somehow, he lived. Huddled in a floating mass, he survived. He climbed out of the plane and onto the top. He had no idea how long it had been since the plane crashed, but the skies were clear and the sun was setting. Joshua sat on the top of the plane and watched the sunset. It was beautiful. The way it reflected, they way the clouds came in painted him a picture. Like Oceans. All he could see were his girlfriends eyes. He wanted to stare into them so bad, but all he had was a memory, a mental photograph. He wondered if he would ever get that chance.
The plane started sinking, so he was forced to paddle out into the abyss and grab a flotation device that somehow survived the wreck. Andy was dead. He floated on that device for a day. The next sunset came and to the west he saw a ship coming his way. It was not just any ship though. It was a sailboat, an enormous sailboat. Spanish flags waved off of the top. It was made of wood and he could see the cannons in the side. Suddenly the plane was gone and so was his suit and tie. The metal and steel wreckage had been replaced with splintered wood and rusted brass. His suit and tie had been replaced with a wool shirt and black pants. He was no longer holding on to an orange life vest, but to a brown piece of wood from a ship that somehow wrecked. A million thoughts crossed his mind, but he remained calm.
The Spanish ship sailed closer. He made out the name of it on the massive hull from a distance, Como Los Océanos. Maybe she came to save him, he thought. That thought was fleeting. A man in captains threads pointed a gun at him and told him to get on. He was a prisoner.
They kept him in the basement of the ship and he was treated as prisoners are. He didn’t understand so he did not speak. He was fed little and was given water even less. Within the week, he arrived in Cancun. It was about the same time he should have been returning home. He walked, more like stumbled, onto the beach. It began to rain, and the ocean reminded him of her. He looked to his left and there she was. Walking out of a hut on the beach of Cancun was a true beauty. It was his girlfriend, but instead of embracing Joshua, she embraced the man with the gun. Their eyes met and she nodded her head and mouthed the words “I’m sorry.” She turned away, speaking fluent Spanish, and he was left with a million horrible and heartbreaking emotions. All he could say was “like oceans.” She said “Wait” and turned to him, but before she could put a hand out or even scream, he was shot and killed by the man with the gun.
Written by my man WILLIAM WALLACE.
Joshua was leaving his fairly normal life for only a week. He had just moved out of his parents’ place and into his own apartment, which he shared with a close friend. He was just out of college, and just into a relationship. He loved everything about his girl. Life just seemed to be going his way recently. He was just hired to work in the PR department of a mortgage company in his hometown of Long Island, New York. They were sending him on a “business trip” to Cancun, Mexico. He knew what “business trip” meant in “business” terms. It was just an official expression for a week long “meet and greet” with the new boss. Luckily for Joshua, he played a lot of golf and smoked cigars…
Joshua got on his flight, 5018 to Cancun, at around 12:30 on a Sunday afternoon. He said goodbye to friends, family, and his girlfriend and hopped on the plane figuring he would be back in a week and could continue with his life. At 23, he was beginning to settle down. He made a steady amount of money at the firm and was ready to move on to the next phase of his life. He wasn’t sure if he was in love or if she was the “one,” but he definitely hoped so.
The trip to Cancun was a projected 6-hour flight. Joshua hated flying. As he sat down in Row 14, Seat C, he let out a sigh of relief to discover he had the window seat. Maybe this flight wouldn’t be so bad after all. Another good omen came when a man not too unlike himself sat down next to him. His name was Andy and his story was much the same. Just going down to Cancun for “business.” They started talking to make things easier for the trip and seemed to hit it off. They started talking about relationships and Joshua began talking about his girlfriend. “She’s got eyes like oceans.” Coincidentally, the plane had just left land behind and was now flying over the Gulf of Mexico. The flight didn’t have much longer. Out from underneath Joshua’s clothes, skin, and bones, came another sigh of relief.
About that time is when the plane got a little shaky. The pilot attempted to reassure the passengers, but Joshua knew something was up. The stewardess’ sat in their seats with worried looks on their faces. Looking out the window, Joshua saw nothing but the blackest clouds he had ever seen. The lights flickered and the plane rocked back and forth. On the drop down monitors that tracked the planes movements, the altitude began slipping closer to zero.
Engine failure. It went down. Fast.
The plane hit the water traveling faster than the speed of sound. Joshua tried to brace himself, but there is no preparation for an impact like that. Somehow, he lived. Huddled in a floating mass, he survived. He climbed out of the plane and onto the top. He had no idea how long it had been since the plane crashed, but the skies were clear and the sun was setting. Joshua sat on the top of the plane and watched the sunset. It was beautiful. The way it reflected, they way the clouds came in painted him a picture. Like Oceans. All he could see were his girlfriends eyes. He wanted to stare into them so bad, but all he had was a memory, a mental photograph. He wondered if he would ever get that chance.
The plane started sinking, so he was forced to paddle out into the abyss and grab a flotation device that somehow survived the wreck. Andy was dead. He floated on that device for a day. The next sunset came and to the west he saw a ship coming his way. It was not just any ship though. It was a sailboat, an enormous sailboat. Spanish flags waved off of the top. It was made of wood and he could see the cannons in the side. Suddenly the plane was gone and so was his suit and tie. The metal and steel wreckage had been replaced with splintered wood and rusted brass. His suit and tie had been replaced with a wool shirt and black pants. He was no longer holding on to an orange life vest, but to a brown piece of wood from a ship that somehow wrecked. A million thoughts crossed his mind, but he remained calm.
The Spanish ship sailed closer. He made out the name of it on the massive hull from a distance, Como Los Océanos. Maybe she came to save him, he thought. That thought was fleeting. A man in captains threads pointed a gun at him and told him to get on. He was a prisoner.
They kept him in the basement of the ship and he was treated as prisoners are. He didn’t understand so he did not speak. He was fed little and was given water even less. Within the week, he arrived in Cancun. It was about the same time he should have been returning home. He walked, more like stumbled, onto the beach. It began to rain, and the ocean reminded him of her. He looked to his left and there she was. Walking out of a hut on the beach of Cancun was a true beauty. It was his girlfriend, but instead of embracing Joshua, she embraced the man with the gun. Their eyes met and she nodded her head and mouthed the words “I’m sorry.” She turned away, speaking fluent Spanish, and he was left with a million horrible and heartbreaking emotions. All he could say was “like oceans.” She said “Wait” and turned to him, but before she could put a hand out or even scream, he was shot and killed by the man with the gun.
Written by my man WILLIAM WALLACE.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Paper Mill Factory "Brick Layers Envy"
The following is a contribution by "William Wallace"
It took me awhile to realize that the road I was driving on was named after the Curtis Paper Mill. Most of you have seen it. Some of you have seen pictures of it. Even less of you have been inside of it. Apparently the place was a hot spot for bums and a haven for drug addicts. In the amount of time that I spent inside the mill, I saw very little of either. What I did see was artwork on the walls and history in the foundations.
If you think about it, it kind of makes sense. During World War II the Curtis Paper Mill produced paper that was later used to print out some of the most important treaties of the war. That being considered, why shouldn’t the most important artists of our area go inside and continue to write on a canvas called Curtis?
Most of the kids I talked to were too freaked out to venture into the Paper Mill. Understandable, because even once I got inside I wasn’t gonna fuck with the basement. The Mill was considered a landmark to the area and an important piece to the towns history. With its demolition I could see a little piece of Newark’s heart breaking and another piece of our area’s graffiti history getting crushed. To me, it seems kind of fitting that they left the Curtis smoke stack up for the time being.
The last piece of graffiti left on the whole building sort of sums up how I feel about the Curtis Paper Mill, throughout its 137 year history it was always down for some action.
William Wallace
(For contributions contact theglamorouslifer@gmail.com)
It took me awhile to realize that the road I was driving on was named after the Curtis Paper Mill. Most of you have seen it. Some of you have seen pictures of it. Even less of you have been inside of it. Apparently the place was a hot spot for bums and a haven for drug addicts. In the amount of time that I spent inside the mill, I saw very little of either. What I did see was artwork on the walls and history in the foundations.
If you think about it, it kind of makes sense. During World War II the Curtis Paper Mill produced paper that was later used to print out some of the most important treaties of the war. That being considered, why shouldn’t the most important artists of our area go inside and continue to write on a canvas called Curtis?
Most of the kids I talked to were too freaked out to venture into the Paper Mill. Understandable, because even once I got inside I wasn’t gonna fuck with the basement. The Mill was considered a landmark to the area and an important piece to the towns history. With its demolition I could see a little piece of Newark’s heart breaking and another piece of our area’s graffiti history getting crushed. To me, it seems kind of fitting that they left the Curtis smoke stack up for the time being.
The last piece of graffiti left on the whole building sort of sums up how I feel about the Curtis Paper Mill, throughout its 137 year history it was always down for some action.William Wallace
(For contributions contact theglamorouslifer@gmail.com)
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