In case you missed it, Kanye West just blew minds over at Oxford University. On top of that, Lil B has gone to MIT, NYU and Harvard to speak to students too, so it's clear, at least to me, that America's biggest rock stars have decided that only the most "prestigious" universities are the ones worth speaking at. Since classism is the new racism, I can't help but think these dudes are being racist as fuck. In an effort to correct this wrong, I've elected myself—freelance blogger, dutiful boyfriend, burgeoning Spotify DJ and lover of all satirical literature—to speak at a local community college about my favorite art form, blogging. These kids may not give two fucks about pull quotes, press releases or coding, but they will not interrupt this stream of consciousness:
YO! What hour is it right now? Is it 2pm yet? Fuck it, we starting regardless of the time because we have this teaching to do. I appreciate each and every person in this classroom, even the ones scrolling their timelines right now because you guys are the ones clicking on our links. Without y'all, I'd have literally zero purpose on this earth. Real talk. So thank you first and foremost.
I was just sending some of the wildest, most fire emails with the homies. I can't even talk too much about this because I know you guys will be Snapchatting it and I just can't be giving out information like that. But we were all emailing and it was like, 'Damn, we just sent some fire content over Gmail. Let's pub this shit and get paid, for real.' See, other bloggers, lesser individuals, to be honest, would scoff at something like that. How you going to publish your email chain, dude? The thing is, I know their threads. I know that shit's drier than Death Valley. I know how dry Death Valley is because I went there to trip acid and write a 1,000 word thinkpiece on Run The Jewels' appeal to Pitchfork readers. I'm just saying, if you're ever broke maybe you should think about publishing your email chains, fam.
Twitter is more valuable than books, newspapers, holy scriptures and Conde Nast, if we're being real. Have you ever been with 10 homies, watching some trash ass award show and scrolling the timeline and see the craziest thing ever in, like, just 140 characters? That will change your whole being, man. I remember seeing this one tweet, it was something like: 'Congrats to my family Chris Brown and Tyga on their new release.' It actually had the link to purchase the album and everything. That really fucked with me, ya know? 'Cus, like, I ain't know Kanye was fucking with those dudes like that. The whole team's thetan levels were wild out of wack after seeing that. Oh, I should have said this to start, but y'all should definitely follow me on Twitter by the way.
Did I mention emails earlier? I don't think I did. The thing about your email is, when you're blogging, people want you to constantly be on that jawn. You're getting, like, 10 emails per minute, real talk. They come at such a rapid pace, you have to be on your Neo shit and slow the whole motherfucker down. I don't really like responding to this silly shit, though. When editors and PR people keep hitting me with emails, and let's say I was up until like 7am doing drugs the night before, I'm really in no type of mood to get back to these people. In this situation, I just draft up a tweet like: 'Damn, email going WAY UP today.' This lets the whole world know—editors, PR people, struggle rappers—I probably won't get back to you today, if I do at all. You can also screenshot your phone showing you got, like, 50,284 unread emails and post that. No need to be killing yourself and responding to shit when House of Cards just dropped.
If I could go back and do it all over, I would definitely go to community college. It's hella cheaper. I could live at home and eat for free and I could get turnt with my burnout homies who never left their parents' crib in the first place. Those are the real geniuses, fam. As a freelance blogger, attending a $40,000 a year institution of higher learning just to make a little over half that when you graduate seems foolish. After expenses—rent, lobster dinners, a problematic drug habit, first class flights to Boston—I'm making, like, $27.37 a year, fam. It's tax return season, though, so AYYY!
There's a fine line between being a fan and being thirsty. Yo, just disregard that because life's too short and if you want a selfie you gotta start snapping. There ain't no second chances in the field. I remember I saw Birdman and Young Thug pull up outside the club and it was like clockwork: I hopped over the gate, right juked the bouncer and told Thugger I was a real one and he was a real one, so lets get this joint off. We popped that 'gram and it's on my parents' fridge right now. Don't be a bitch and make sure your shit doesn't come out blurry as fuck.
Last thing on emails: Don't use your personal Gmail account for work-related shit. What us bloggers send to each other needs to be available to the public just in case there's any discrepancies. Otherwise, no one's going to know your true allegiances. I saw you tweet about how you ain't fuck with Vic Mensa, but NOW I see you out there doing ten different lists on dude. Let's always keep it honest. No one was fucking with Vic Mensa.
FOREVER LIT. LIT FOREVER. That is all.
Brian Padilla is a writer living in Brooklyn. You can follow him on Twitter here.
