Of Course, My Horse
It’s 2003. I’m standing at a party in East Maitland. I’m giving out mixtapes to anyone who will accept them. I’m talking about music with this fellow. He doesn’t listen to hip-hop, but he is a musician… sorta.
“So all three of us bought guitars… Felonius took it up right away. Now he’s a wizard. The guy can just play. For me and Jeremy though, it didn’t work out so well. We tried, but we can’t really play that well… So we figured what we’ll do is find some heroin, push off, and write a shitload of songs. Like Cobain did.”
“I don’t think Cobain was-”
“He was a great songwriter – you can’t deny that.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think it comes from -”
“He wrote a lot of great songs while he was on the horse.. So that’s what me and Jeremy are going to do.”
“You can’t just take heroin and -”
“It’s okay, we won’t share needles or anything. I’ve got a guy who knows a guy in Kings Cross, good shit, we won’t get burned. Then we’ll write the songs and it’ll be great.”
“Right… Of course.”
“Anyway I’m gonna go find Jeremy. Catch you later bro.”
