Memoirs of entry i

[intro:]
Hey keith can you pass me a light? yeah, i wanna light this cigarette up. thanks bro. ya know, i was never the best. i never sat down and said, "i wanna be the best." i knew i had talent. like i knew i could draw. i knew i could, make work come to life on the wall. i knew i was creative. but my overall goal, wasn't to be the best. i just wanted respect from my peers. a uh, a sense of admiration from people who'd see my work. i was privileged to grow up at a time where art was art, to us. it didn't belong to the rich. the pretentious. the snobs. it belonged to us. we set the tone for what people wanted and needed to see...

See... i-i remember seeing the child like crown by jean-michel. seeing that crown, seeing samo and saying, that's art. i remember seeing the illuminating baby, by keith. the colorfulness of kenny. the stick man by stay-high. we were all there. even the question mark by me. it meant something. we stood for somethng

Lemme tell you a story, like last time i got arrested right? i was tagging a police car. i never did these things out of spite or out of anger. but more out of, desperation. i was disgusted at what this city was becoming. i wrote: "are you really policing? " ha. i thought that was clever. i thought that was really clever.new york is the capital of the world. but right now, i feel some sort of way. we're deteriorating. you got this fucking crack shit everywhere. prostitution running rampant. women getting raped in central park. shit, i'm scared to have sex. yeah... like what what... what kinda man, is scared to have sex? it's 1987 and all... all of my friends are dying from sex. and we don't know why. where are our guardians? like this shit is crazy. like i don't... i don't get it... sigh... fuck you, ed koch. fuck you! and i hope you die from whatever disease is killing all my friends. this shit is fucked up!

Sorry where was i?

Sigh... i stay on bowery now. i've done enough work to where people want my expression. my, my work. my truths. i'm flattered really. last week ha, i was in katz delicatessen and tony shafrazi stopped by. he was a curator for art for keith haring for a long time. he would throw these um... these galleries for him. and uh, robert would come through. roy litchenstein would be there. and i would always see him but i would never say anything. so now i see him here and the whole time i was trying to figure out what to say to him and he comes up to me and he says "hey question mark man, riddle me this... i have a little house, in which i live all alone. it has no doors. or windows. and if i wanna go out, i must break thru the wall. what am i? " ha, and i sat there and i thought for 2 minutes and i said... "your a baby chicken... right? " and he says "no, it's you." heh...

I'm rambling and the point is this, everyone can't be the best. challenge yourself to defeat yourself. that way, competition will stare at you fighting, instead of paying attention to what they're doing. and then, everybody will look at you and see your true potential. you'll then be the best, without trying to be the best

Mause

[tape stops]

Mauuuuuse!

[verse:]
The big apple, a.k.a. the black apple, call it nightmare capitol, dodging all these tackles, uh, ya see i'm shackled
Hard for me not to grapple
I gotta can of that magic, while hanging off a scaffold
Flashlight on me
Working in the train tunnels
Watching out for that 3rd rail
Please pray for me uncle!
On my way up to harlem
140th, adam clayton went to see rich porter, he copped about 7 paintings!
Ayyyy! mama i made it, even though you told me i'm brainless
Right when i met cindy crawford
She begged me paint on her naked
Got jackets that i created
Gave one to futura
Told me whenever he wore it
It kinda gave him and aura
All the, all the, all the shorty's
That saw me in all the parties
Bugging out with my sharpie
They all asking to call me
So i invited them over
We all can play my atari
I can be your black ken doll
And you can be my new barbie