| |
|
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
|
|
mandy's real life adventure with George Clinton (p-funkadelic superstar)
(written by mandy in her own words)
Mandy's Crack-head Incident w/ George Clinton: I know this is lame-o, but when I lived in Tallahassee while attending the prestigious FSU, I had some friends that used to "jam" with the Funk Master himself. Me, being the star struck groupie that I am, asked to tag along. So my friends and I set off to Monticello (that's where his studio is) for a little jam session. Not knowing what to expect we stumbled across a small two story house deep in the woods (impossible to find in the dark!). When we walked in the house there must have been at least 10 children running around screaming which ended up all being his grandchildren. The funny thing was none of them looked alike. Some were dark, some were semi-dark, some light, and some white. The walls were covered with platinum and gold albums and all other sorts of music awards and recognitions. The man himself walked down the stairs with some buddies and introduced themselves. George looked weird because he did not have all the wacky colored dreads and also because he w as holding this glass pipe thing in his hand. I continued playing with the little random kids and started small talk with all the afro women. I drank some beers downstairs then made my way upstairs to watch the "men at work." To my surprise there was another friend of George's in the studio. It was the guy from Right Said Fred (I'm Too Sexy..for my...you know). He was playing guitar and acting kind of recluse. As I watched the guys drop beats and write lyrics, I couldn't help but notice that Mr. Clinton kept packing his little glass pipe thingy and hitting it two or three times. I smoke weed and that was not weed. So you can imagine to my surprise to find that the funk master himself was a full-blown CRACKHEAD. He smoked the damn thing like a cigarette! Packing and repacking it probably 30 times throughout the 3 hours I was there! Well, we gotsta to talkin' indirectly about his habit and how he was going on tour soon and somehow the idea of getting drugs for him and his band came up. My stupid friend was like, Hey Mandy--you can get that right?????? I was like rock--NO, powder--YES. So, George Clinton and I hopped in my car and drove to Tallahassee to meet up with a friend (bout 30-40 minute drive). The whole time I kept thinking, "If I get pulled over and they search George, we're in big trouble. "Because you can all imagine that the man could not starve his habit for the 30 minute drive. Well, we made it safely and my friend arrived shortly after with the "goods." George licked his pointer finger and stuck it deep in the ounce of cocaine. He made this weird grunting noise, nodded his head, then handed my friend a wad of cash. THE DEAL WAS DONE, but it's not something I am proud of. However, I can say that I contributed to this man's nasty habit...and that sucks!
11:04:33 PM 
|
|
...going on my date with the graduation girl, so there's no time to obsess over the blog. here's some beautiful loser stories to tide you over!
6:36:57 PM
|
|
finally a somebody
I remember I used to always get a turkey sandwich at Subway and read Creative Loafing by myself at lunchtime. I still do, but now it's called the Weekly Planet, and Subway has new choices of bread like parmesan oregano.
I would see the little grainy, black and white pictures of people--local artists, and entertainers, etc.--in the scenes column and think to myself, who would care about being in this stupid thing?
A few years later, when I got my picture in Sterling Powell's scenes column for my artwork, I thought it was the neatest thing in the world. I was finally a SOMEBODY in this town, and anyone who didn't believe in me before was now eating his heart out.
6:34:51 PM
|
|
the next jack kerouac
One of the times that I went back to school at USF to study fiction I spent nearly every waking moment writing down everything I did thinking that I was the next Jack Kerouac. I filled dozens of notebooks and thousands of pages, but none of my writing had anything to do with my creative writing assignments and I got an F and dropped out again.
6:29:18 PM
|
|
street fiction
Once at USF, I was really desperate for money, and I decided to try to sell my short stories door to door. I called my stories Street Fiction. I went to a couple of apartment complexes and asked a few people to buy them, but no one seemed interested so I gave up.
6:25:46 PM
|
|
|
© Copyright 2004 Mark Michaels.
Last update: 1/1/2004; 3:39:23 AM.
|
|
|
