There was a pillow fight in Union Square

I flipped my phone open, somewhere on 13th street, sunny, unwashed from the night before, and dialed. Something about smacking a perfect stranger upside the head with a pillow makes you want to call your grandma. Odd that her number isn't in my phone, because out of anyone I could call in this world, she is the one who truly appreciates it.

5 minutes later I wandered into the New School, the same place that the homos from Project Runway go to argue and use sewing machines. The grassroots media conference had been there all day, but it was 2:30 pm by now, so I got the hangover rate of 15 bucks. Plenty of prissy bloggers wearing indie jeans, girls with dreads, activist buttons on backpacks with way too much text to read at a glance.

I walked out about 3 hours later, now realizing that any male in Senegal could out-rap any American rapper any day, realizing that municipal wireless networks are a shifty possibility, and realizing that I am crazy. Literally and completely.

I have a "go-getter" virus, I see opportunities to crack people wide open and spill their professional inclinations all over the ground like so many piggy banks, (mine included) with the intention to engineer and create something new. I am never not having delusions of grandeur. A one man movement. That last sentence is lofty and cocky and untrue, but damn it looks good on paper.

I only say professionally, if I happen to do this to people emotionally and personally, I have completely blocked it out and I choose to neglect it.

What the fuck is he talking about? I walked into that conference and walked out with a hairbrained idea for a massive NYC radio show, sponsored by the magazine and party promotions people I deal with. The scope of such a thing is staggering, and would involve a lot of work and consideration, but once I get such an idea, and I feel I have the people and resources to get it done I do everything I can to make sure this happens. 1 email and 2 IM conversations later it was done.

I love the way things work, and I don't do this go-getter shit as any kind of reputation building vanity project, I do it as a reputation building vanity-humanity project.

Vanity-humanity project. Fuck me thats cheesy.

Ok, overwrought shit aside, I sort of quit drinking for the month of february. Sort of. The only exceptions were the super bowl, the titty bar for my roommates birthday, the last Beautiful Decay release party, and the night out in the meatpacking district which sucked ass solely because of two many seven dollar beers. I did get to meet Bobby McFerrin's son though, who is cool as hell.

POST SCRIPT ONE DAY LATER: I think thats the reason I've been so damn ambitious lately. I'm not fucking hungover all the time. I like it, but it is March now, I'm going out and I am going to be hungover tomorrow. I rule.

I also realized I have not name-dropped in a while. I am going to be on set for a Masta Ace music video next weekend, which is going to fucking rule. There, you happy?....all 4 people who read this thing who might know who Masta Ace is.

"Why don't you update your faggot corner more often?"
-Drew

Because of posts like this buddy.