TuSoon Shakur

@tusoonshakur.bsky.social

East Side ATL. CLS. Fella. Once turned Willem Dafoe into Willem Dafriend.

The missus and I were having a light-hearted argument about whether we eat porridge or drink porridge. It escalated unexpectedly, words were exchanged, and she revealed she's been fucking someone on the side, so I suppose we're splitting up. Because of porridge.

One of the more fun ironies in revisiting The Road Not Taken ages and ages after first reading it is that I am far more aware today of how unexceptional and banal my choices and abilities are than I was when I was, say, 22.

Do other countries have this weird notion that you’re not a “real” representative of the nation if you live in an urban center? Like do the French say Parisians aren’t really French? Are you considered not a real German if you live in Berlin? Or is this mainly a weird American thing?

All the fellas down at the swimmin' hole would suck in their guts when ole frog-chuckin' Ameline sauntered into the shallows, skin all aglow. "Ooh, there she goes," they would whisper amongst themselves. "There goes ole frog-chuckin' Ameline with her skin all aglow."

I was in downtown LA last night and witnessed someone honking furiously at a Waymo for not making a right on red and it felt like it really captured our moment.