23 Chance the Rapper: Coloring Book




Jesus, this entry was terrible.

I managed to spend most of my time spewing shit about Shinsuke Nakamura and Jeremy Corbyn, suggesting that supposed support for both people chiefly amounted to people liking the consonance of the theme music and knowing how important it is to appear a fan rather than any real patronage when the chips are down. It was a cynical and bloated mess that publishing would constitute an horrific slight on the good name of Chance the Rapper.


Also, yesterday the swings and  spasmodic jitters of my everchanging moods tumbled into the red as I seriously began to worry that nobody’s reading this.

I periodically send entries to people I might consider ‘friends’ and ‘family’ that I asume they’d find enjoyable and/or interesting, and never once has anyone of them suggested they’d actually made the effort of reading it. The day before yesterday, after seriously working on the list from 6am in the morning to 7pm at night I canvassed somebody’s opinion on the Car Seat Headrest critique and eventually got a reply! It was confusing and a little bizarre, but at least it was confirmation of his interest!!

He had sent it to me by accident, he apologised and said the reply was meant for someone else. He never sent another message suggesting he’d actually bothered to read it.

Yesterday, my mood darkened and I began to debate why exactly everyone was avoiding commenting on my undoubted genius. Maybe my writing is so awful that everyone has agreed en masse to just avoid acknowledging it, as they had literally nothing nice to say. Maybe not a single person could be bothered reading them, which is slightly understandable as they can sometimes be as long as 750 words and I often utilise extremely long sentences, but still annoying because this year I made a concerned effort to dust the writing with photos, jokes and other BuzzFeed nonsense to attempt to capture the attention of either the shortest attention span. Maybe people just dislike the frequent dark allusions to depression and suicide

I had a friend who had a friend who had a cousin who went to school with a guy who was the friend of a guy who was me, who read a story on the internet about a person who was stabbed outside a rock gig and staggered to the main street bleeding out.  This person kept calling out to passerbys, screaming ab out their attack and requesting some help to stop the bleeding. Nobody paid the person any attention, and thus he or she assumed that the only plausible explanation for other people’s indifference was that he or she had died in the attack and was now a ghost.*

Is that me? Are these expertly written and fucking hilarious pieces just me screaming out as I bleed to death as everyone ignores me?

No. Not at all. That, like, barely makes any sense. Cool analogy though, yeah?

However, I do really enjoy writing these, and I’m in a better mood today so can once again start to understand that its own existence is reason enough to continue.

Apart from this Chance the Rapper critique, which deserves to be killed: my extremely cynical point was that people vote with their wallets so whichever party promises to lower taxes generally wins power, whatever their policies regarding other people

Chancey Boy put his money where his mouth is though, donating $1 million to Chicago Schools, because he’s the fucking Daddy



Metacritic: +89

Aaaaaaaw! Who’s the knobhead reviewer stopping him making the big 9-0?? ‘His bar structuring if often off point’?? Fuck you, Michael G. Barilleaux from rapreviews.com!!

Length: 57 minutes -11

Number of AMAZING songs: 1 (+10)

…But Are All the Rest of the Songs Kinda Amazing Anyway? Absolutely +100

Is the last song just the first track but played on Ukulele? No -1



*It was Halloween, people just assumed they were doing a ‘bit’

Sorry about this entry, but you have to understand how despondent the latest refusal  to read left me and then to see how the next entry was the terrible shite I’d written for CtR!! Back to normal with Wild Beasts I promise


Wow, these ‘spoiler alerts’ puns are getting really tenuous, aren’t they?

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