Things to do in Bed-Stuy When You're Dead
The food arrives but it's devoured in seconds now that there are more gentlemen of leisure sitting about the room. The weed is consumed at a similar rate. Meanwhile, Elliott and Juice are taking their impending loss well.
"The game's broken," jokes Elliott after unsuccessfully defending the paint against LeBron James.
"That was fantasy," chimes in Juice with mock frustration at Lebron/Meech's dexterity.
We talk about recent events in rap for a good while. Now that the high starts to settle Meech is scrolling through his Netflix queue looking for the next thing to smoke about. "I need at least another hour of no GTA," he says. He almost settles on the 100 Best WCW Moments but instead goes with the "The Subway Hero" episode of 30 Rock. A few minutes into the episode and that gets deaded as well. They pause the Liz Lemon to listen to The Needle Drop's Anthony Fantano review their recently released album Better Off Dead. It's a rave review overall but Fantano says something about drug references that hits a sore spot.
"We really don't talk about drugs that much," says Meech. "I've read maybe three reviews and one of them said we had 'exhausting drug references.' We have maybe two or three songs about drugs on this album and we talk about a range of topics... Long story short man, I don't do drugs."
And he's right. Songs like "Regular and Complex" and "Amerikkkan Pie" off Better Off Dead don't advocate drug use. Upon further prodding about his current drug intake, Meech even goes so far to say that he's quitting weed for a while after today's interview. "Rolled up my last nug this morning," he informs me. "I haven't had a break in years.I want to get in good cardio shape for the tour. I want to get in the shape of a wrestler so I can stage dive and crowd surf. But Juice ain't quitting though."
By now the munchies are coming back, and more snacks are needed. We trek it to the closest bodega. Upon return Juice is playing a round of GTA. Meech plays next, stealing a Bentley and launching rockets at police helicopters. We dig into the snacks.
One more joint is burned. Conversation has died down a bit, and with it, the laughs. Everyone's in a light stupor, not exactly zombie high but steadfastly approaching catatonic. Instead of calling a cab I decide to walk to the train so I can clear my head a bit. I give departing handshakes all around and make my exit into the Brooklyn sunset leaving cookie crumbs, ashes and empty Nantucket Nectar bottles in my wake.
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