I probably said the word "wrist" a thousand times yesterday. Whatever the number actually was, it was certainly a multiple of six. Ever since getting put on to Father's "Look at Wrist," it has consumed my life. It started at work yesterday. None of my co-workers could talk to me because whenever they asked me a serious question that required a response in the affirmative, I could only say "wrist" until they walked away. 

That night, I had plans to go to a quiet lake two hours outside the city. One of my companions had a Plan B situation to deal with that afternoon, which resulted in us driving around Harlem for hours. At one point, we were stopped in traffic for, like, 15 minutes on 139th St. We blasted "Look at Wrist" and were visibly wilding out to a degree that caused the entire block to mob the car and turn up with us. 

By the time we actually got to the lake, it was 1 a.m. and moonlit. It was so sickeningly serene that I had to break out the Bluetooth speaker to let the deer and whatnot hear the best of what human culture has to offer. I put "Look at Wrist" on repeat while we threw together a struggle fire. The lake itself was placid, with no visible movement whatsoever. All my friends hated me at this point because I wouldn't stop playing or saying "wrist." Nothing could be seen for miles except a mountain and the full moon. An hour later, I looked behind me, and realized that a coke white boat had appeared, silently and seemingly out of nowhere, like four hundred feet from shore. It was at first terrifying because it was very late and we were the only people there, but I convinced myself that it was a good omen. 

They ask me how it goes. I respond, straight-faced: 'Never had to whip a brick, but I get the gist. Wrist, wrist, wrist, wrist, wrist, wrist.'

I wanted to troll this boat somehow with this whole wrist situation. I took my speaker and started wading out to the lake with it in hand, having tossed my phone into the sand, Shmurda style. I got about a hundred feet in before the connection tapped out and I felt like an idiot. So I decided I would just drop the speaker off back at shore and see if I could just run up on this boat like a pirate to talk to some stranger about wrists. I swam out to the boat and they were immediately gracious as fuck and threw down a ladder for me to come up. They gave me a towel and asked where I'm from. It was like three girls and three dudes, all around age 30. I said, "Look, I really don't give that much of a fuck about the boat, I just wanted to come here and tell you guys about this song I've been listening to." They asked me how it went. I responded, straight-faced: "Never had to whip a brick, but I get the gist. Wrist, wrist, wrist, wrist, wrist, wrist."

It was at that moment that I realized they had their own Bluetooth speaker and, miraculously, great reception. I forced them to put on "Look at Wrist" in the middle of this fucking lake and told them to "meditate to this." I watched all of their faces as the song played through, still shivering from the cold water. I found out later that they were all from the neighboring town called Cornwall. I almost clowned one of the dudes for hating on the song by asking him what it was like to be a born and raised a cornball. Then I realized that it was his boat and that they probably hear that joke all the time. The girls were definitely fucking with it, at least, and played it again for me as my departure song. I grabbed on to the deck to lower myself down, and one of them said "don't break your wrist."

Father, Makonnen, and Key! definitely have a jam on their hands. And apparently, some big names are also catching the wave.

Alex Russell needs a Fitbit on his wrist that can tell him how many times he says the word "wrist" per day. He's on Twitter @nonmogul.