Sunday, December 04, 2016

Hello from the other side...

This is Charles Hamilton.
The musician.
The poet.
The rape victim.
The alien advocate.
J Dilla's biggest fan.

How are you?

My album, "Hamilton, Charles", was pushed back.
It now drops on 12/9/2016.
I've been told it's a good thing.
The documentary was a better look than I thought.

About the documentary.

I have developed a psychic skill.
I can make you think I'm bullshitting you.
Most rape victims can do it.
I call it "a gun".
But rest assured, I am very insecure about my body and my mind.

As the act intended for me to be.

So thank you, Fred Scott, for believing and believing in me and my story.

Eventually, I have to get over it.
But everything reminds me of it.

And it kept happening from ages 2 until I moved to NYC at age 5.

And NYC is not Disney fuckin world.
So as much as I want mercy from The Big City, I thank New Hrok for raising me to be tougher.

But the city is breaking me down.
I feel the pressure to excel.
Maybe I am scared of success.
Maybe that's why I ran from Matt and Jeff (despite rumors they were Jay and Em, despite my instincts telling me they were taking advantage of me in my sleep).

I miss the brain rush of snorting heroin lines.
I can taste cocaine on my tongue.
Weed doesn't do it for me anymore.
Is this bliss?
Could my love affair with narcotics be worse than I imagined?
I even miss lithium.

I tried to overdose on it.
I took 15 lithium pills and went to sleep in Joe's basement.
God bless you, Joe Rupert.

I'm just not a happy person.
I don't know how to be a hero.
I've watched artists come and go, saying virtually the same things I say, and get more credit than I do.
The only thing that seems to understand my anger is heroin.
Weed, but everyone smokes weed.
Maybe I've gone too far.


Drugs saved and ended my life.
Simone was a lifesaver (both of them), but ... we split up.
I wanted to impress her so bad.

I don't really have a lot of friends.
It's even getting tough(er) to trust my #6 brethren.
As much as I do and am supposed to love then, they just don't sit quell with me.
I feel like their laughing about me behind my back.

I'm gonna go have a cigarette.
Hopefully, I'll return to some love.

Ladies, forgive me for the gay shit I've done in the past.
I never did it for fame.
I did it for love.
And out of fear.
If I were a foot taller, niggas would be dead.

Gentlemen, try to stay hetero.
You lose all you have gained as a man if you do something gay.

The fact I'm still standing means there is a divine force, keeping my balls and hips in tact.
Thank you, dear perfect stranger.
If I didn't worship Dilla, I'd have a mural of you.

I love you, Dr. Dre.
I don't have to get to know you.

Madlib, blessings.

6z, I know you don't love anything, but... can you make some room in your heart for me?
It's not easy being the one who wished for you to exist.


~follow the buzzards~

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