Spent the first half of the day with a rastafarian numerologist but things didn’t add up (badumcha). I walked down the street with the JayZ projects, still don’t like his mu-suck. Met this almostfamous motherfuck who called himself primo but he wasn’t a cousin & then who I am, selassie I. Something about the K, the illuminati power, and when I go into coffee shops middle aged c-list throw winks, style out. But he swears by chakras kundalini and the crystal pyramids that live in triangles under Bermudan sea. The Island mentality. Kalifia o Kali, ellas es todo para mi. The pero like my verbal tick fluttering but still I don’t connect. T.o.o. a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. Unrooted, b.