CARRY THE MONOLOGUE by yrstruly

There's no reason to rush. Take your time, use your hands , your fingers if you need to. No shame in pulling out the old calculator, even as your daughter is mocking you. It's important that you get this count right.

Maybe I'm old fashioned, or these expectations are too high. But the line between confidently & definitely saying "here's your change, sir" and politely ending the transaction versus whatever this is, you defensively hemming & hawing over the order of operations, or lord forbid! being asked to show your work, or a request that you don't ask your friends the answers to the test because the whole entire point is that you figure it out for yourself, or what ultimately becomes you panicking and asking for a bathroom break; to give yourself space, to plan an escape from this equation that flat out sucks and might not even have an answer, Good Will Hunting be damned, and of course at this point you really don't give a fuck at all but the thing isyou also already paid for summer classes and you're kinda stuck here for season. So your life is basically one big orgy of sunk cost fallacies... the line between these outcomes?

That shit is fucking cavernous. 

I'm not here to give advice tho. I'm just here to sell you a dope shirt, which depicts the cover of my upcoming album with fellow artist Will Sanchez aka Goodwill EIGHTFIVE. I hate the look you're giving me right now, the one where you're scrambling to figure out how you can come up with an answer to this stupid math problem that I never even assigned out in the first place. I'm not your fucking professor, but I'm sure we have some shit in common. Any number multiplied by another stupid number is always zero, right? So then what the fuck am I carrying right now and why are you still here? The test was over ours ago. No, I won't take you home. Okay, yes, I'll take you home.

And then I look at you for like eight seconds, a third of an existential crisis shot clock where I'm again asking myself one of my favorite questions. It's not a fun one but it does admittedly get me going from time to time. Am I the dumbest smart person in the world, or merely the smartest dumb person on the Westside of this city. Staring in your eyes, finally, I see the flicker of an answer that she doesn't even need to verbalize.

Gabriel, you're not even the smartest dumb motherfucker in my phone.

Like I said, buy this shirt. And please buy the album, it goes beyond hard.

Carry the one.

• 100% cotton
• Sport Grey is 90% cotton, 10% polyester
• Ash Grey is 99% cotton, 1% polyester
• Heather colors are 50% cotton, 50% polyester
• Fabric weight: 5.0–5.3 oz/yd² (170-180 g/m²)
• Open-end yarn
• Tubular fabric
• Taped neck and shoulders
• Double seam at sleeves and bottom hem