Nina Simone

Makes me want to hurl myself off the freeway.

The giant ex from Frisco's mom would listen to Nina Simone. She never listened to it when I was around, but he remembered growing up and hearing it. Amazing. It's no wonder he turned out a bi-polar weedhead with no ambition. Her singing is depressing. The music behind it is beautiful (I love piano above all instruments), but the words make me want to cry. Add that to the fact that I'm super sick. Shake three times. Insanity will be ready in 3-5 minutes.

I haven't missed him in a minute. He was crazy. But hearing these songs, I can see his house. These songs fit his house, just like Gil Scott Heron's Pieces of a Man. Everytime I hear that song I see the long staircase to the kitchen, how it seemed dark there even in the daylight. But I loved his house. I hate the Bay, but I loved his house. Shit I loved him. I even loved his family.

Crazy muthafucka.

Oh well. I need to change the station. I'm too sick for all this.