Jordan Castro - Pettibone lyrics

I arrive home from work and I reek like pizza and garbage. Nobody is home to greet me because there is nobody to be home to greet me. I call my Dad. My Dad says that in life you either reek like pizza and garbage or you don't. I'm barely listening. I walk toward the refrigerator and I look inside. There is no beer inside of the refrigerator because I did not buy beer to be inside of the refrigerator. My life f**ing s**s. I play with my mustache. I did not ask to be born. I hang up the phone. I think ‘When will all you b**hes die?' I think ‘Wa**up to all you people.' I think ‘Just thought, “Wa**up to all you people.”' I open my laptop and stare at things. I feel things mildly, like through a screen door or a cloud of smoke. Pizza and garbage, I guess. I remove my clothing. I sit on the couch like a sack of sh**. This is my life. I stare at my limp penis. I think ‘God damn b**h.' I think ‘God damn all you f**ing b**hes.' * It's Saturday night and I hear my Dad say that in life you either drink Bud Light or you don't. It's my cousin's birthday. There is college football on T.V. Someone says that college football is better than the NFL because it is more about action and less about style. Someone says that that is basketball, dip sh**. I think ‘Dipset.' I think ‘Dipset' excitedly. I move toward a cooler that has a piece of paper taped to it. ‘Beer' is written on the piece of paper in large, skinny letters. I open a beer and drink it quickly. I think ‘f** it' in a detached monotone. I think ‘f** it' in a manner like I'm angrily referencing something that exists in concrete reality. I'm not. I look at my aunt and I think ‘She's okay for being old, or something. I don't know if I'd f** her.' I look at my aunt's a**. I hear my Dad say that in life you either go to college or you don't. * It's dark outside and I'm lying in bed alone. I'm lying in bed and there is nobody lying in bed with me. It is 4:46 a.m. I can't fall asleep. I stand up. I drink a gla** of water. I stare at myself in the mirror. I think ‘You are a piece of sh**.' I think ‘Young Money, n******g... YME, n******g' in a drastically exaggerated rapper's tone of voice. I make my hand into a fist and I place it vertically underneath my mouth like a microphone. I angle my fist so that it's tilted upwards. I whisper ‘Now check it.' I whisper ‘One, two.' I rhythmically whisper things about money. I look at myself in the mirror and lower my fist. My facial muscles do things. I whisper the word ‘b**hes.' I walk toward bed. I stare at my bed. I lie down on my bed. I lie down on the right side of my body. I lie down on the left side of my body. I lie down on the right side of my body. I move my legs and I adjust my blankets. I lie down on my back. I stare at the ceiling. It is 5:07 a.m. I open my laptop. * I'm in the library sweating profusely. Reading an article in Rolling Stone magazine about Lil Wayne. I imagine my dad saying that in life you either go to the library or you don't. I think ‘My balls reekey deekey' in a quiet monotone. I look up from the magazine and I stare openly at a group of black people who are crowded around one computer. Nothing in my life will ever amount to anything substantial. The black people disperse and each resume use of their individual computers. The article says that Lil Wayne hires people to pre-roll his blunts for him. The article says that when Lil Wayne is in the studio, he can't function like a normal human being because he is so absorbed in what he is doing. I skim the last four paragraphs of the article and place the magazine back onto the shelf. * The Cavs are beating the Celtics 113 to 83. We're f**ing destroying, I say to people. We're f**ing destroying them. I'm drinking organic beer. I'm saying things to people. I feel my face move toward Sasha's face. Our lips touch. Gina and Frank are somewhere in the house. Gina's parents' house. I'm drinking a gla** of chardonnay. Frank and I walk up a flight of stairs and into Gina's bedroom. We play a Green Day song with acoustic guitars. We play a The Avett Brothers song. I'm drinking a can of Coors Light brand beer. I'm drinking chardonnay out of the bottle. Sasha and I are in Gina's parents' bedroom. Our lips are touching and our tongues are doing things. We are drunk. I'm touching her breasts over her dress. I'm looking at her lying on the bed. She's beautiful. I'm drunk. She stands up and removes her dress. She's f**ing beautiful. Our lips are touching and our tongues are doing things. Sasha is removesing my shirt and tie. Sasha is on top of me, She kissesing my neck and my chest. I think ‘Oh yeah.' She says ‘I want to do whatever you want baby.' I think ‘Oh yeah.' We move.Sasha and I move and I'm on top of Sasha, pulling her underwear down around her ankles. Our bodiestongues are doing things. My life becomes something bright and fast moving. * I'm driving down the narrow strip of concrete that leads to my apartment complex. It's been a one-way construction zone for the past year or so and there's afour-foot drop on the right side of where I'm driving. Whenever I tell people that I live off of Pettibone they act like it's the worst thing in the world to have to drive through construction. It is 2:04 a.m. The road is bumpy. I'm drunk. It's raining. I imagine my Dad in the pa**enger seat saying that in life you either drive through construction or you don't. I turn up the volume of the CD player in my car. Rap music blares from the speakers and I crack open the window, forgetting about the rain. I immediately roll up the window and glance quickly to my left. I turn up the volume of the CD player in my car. I sing along with the lyrics. I nod my head and make facial expressions like I'm experiencing excruciating pain. I yell ‘Yeah n***a.' I immediately look into my rearview mirror. There is nothing. It is 2:06 a.m. I think ‘Drunk in the family.' I think ‘Bonified hustler.' I look at my cell phone. I look at my speedometer. I press my foot lightly against the break pedal. I listen to the music coming from the CD player. I nod my head and make noises on every downbeat. I feel the ba** rhythm and I make an intense facial expression. I drive past my apartment complex. I accept it, and move on.