Well, dear c-boys, the time has come to retire Northern Touch. I’m busier than I’ve ever been working at my full-time media job and freelancing and trying to make moves—and I’m afraid there’s just not enough hours in the day. Cadillac problems, really. Hopefully I’ll still be repping XXL, but on the magazine front. (Check the next issue for a few of my bylines. Stupid excited about that.) Shout out to Eskay, BFred and Elliott for the amazing opportunity and to all of my fellow bloggers. Everyone that’s on this site is the best in their particular lane, and that’s the truth, plain and simple.
Thanks too to everyone that’s taken the time to read and comment over the last fourteen months. You’ve all helped me to become a better writer. (When you weren’t asking for naked pics, anyway. Boooo.) Anyway, you all know how much I love hip-hop and it’s been a joy for me to kick it here every week and hear what you all have to say. Looking forward to reading Joe Budden’s new blog.
Not to get all personal here (since I never do that), but you readers have really sustained me this last little while. For a bunch of reasons I won’t get into here, I really went through it this last year, and having this column helped me work it all out. Sometimes you need to write through things to sort them out, you know?
I know a few understand what I’m talking about. It was love for the thing that made me wanna stay out. It was love for the thing that made me stay in the house, spending time, writing lines, trying to find words that describe the vibe that’s inside the space when you close your eyes and screw your face. It’s the pain of too much tenderness—makes me nod my head in reverence. We live the now for the promise of the infinite, and whatnot. You all already know.
PS: When I come back like Jordan, wearing the 4-5, it ain’t to play games with you. Ha!