Father’s Night
This one’s moving to SF soon. Time’s short
My son had heard me say it before, but last night the observation really registered, probably because he hadn’t yet recorded any songs the other times I told him.
If from beyond Tupac could look back on how he comported himself through his career here in Hollywood, I told my boy, he would do it with regret.
Tupac was far too high, for starters.
And at the end of the day, dude was a theater kid who got caught up in needless drama.
We were in my office, having just picked up sandwiches from Low Boy, down on Sunset, and I told my middle child again that with a clear head Pac could have gotten out of that Puff-Suge beef. Tupac was tight with Quincy Jones, for Chissakes. Some big Black dude from Compton was NOT the most powerful entertainment force in town.
I just looked at Tupac as a Black writer. If he wanted to impress me he would have written a story where he lives at the end. Instead, he willfully pushed the narrative of his demise.
If that dude could look back, I told Wyatt last night, he would be horrified by the succession of musically talented, storytelling kids who died upholding Tupac’s inebriated aesthetic.
Just the Tip
Really, what might I say here that could justify that headline?
Wy told me he’d not heard that perspective before and was visibly stunned. My favorite sort of stunned.
The sandwiches were great and the night was good.