Welcome back to my asshole. Assholes.
Only names were altered because my friends have respectable professions; far unlike myself.
This is, has, will, be, always, was a(n)
Extremely Dope Cool
Everyones Dream Coonani
Elevating Drugs Cascade
Egotistical Dancing Charades
Entropy Dominating Cataclysm
Energy Decimating Catastrophe
Every Delirious Collision
Escapades Dooming Comraderie
E to the D to the fucking C epic!
P.L.U.R.RRRR 4 LYFE MOTHA FUCKAS!!!!!
I have always been a monster fan of anything electronic that can be danced to at carnivals. I vividly remember the gif of me listening to “I Remember” by Deadmau5 and Kaskade (God Bless those sexy fuckers to the stars and back for their music. Erectrifying.) in my bed as a wee lad. I had learned what (E)ntropy was by a deeply disturbed; inner demon slaying Lebanese friend of mine in the Mosque (Brownie Church) earlier that day. Why was a child not even in his teens thinking about (E)ntropy? Aren’t video games and the everyday beauties of American life enough for you Ali?
Allow me to manically or maniacally (pick your poison) explain with my
Lebanese friend tangent.
Skip down to where it says “End Personal History” rant if you already know my past.
Brownie people were already mentally distraught post-9/11. Small towns in Republican states especially. You know – Patriot Act Heroes and all that other “freedom fighting.” Iraq was too scary for the cowards. My father is in the medical field, so going back to his country (as is a simple solution presented by the Incelligent Warriors) would’ve sucked for the tiny town. I sound like I’m bitching to some when I bring up my woes; but those times were and still are insanely stressful; daily stuff you never and will never have to worry about if you were white post 9/11. I’m not demonizing white people; this is what I lived with and was raised in. I was actually told the crime rate was going up because of an influx of colored people. The colored people I met were usually some of the most intelligent, kind, and hard working; so this made no sense to me. My truth sucks and isn’t popular in this era. No big and I mean no offense. States that rank last in education usually aren’t the brightest. Who would’ve thought? If you did take offense? Fuck off. Unkindly. This poor dude also lost his mom around the same time; just to add insult to injuries. He got out of his messes though… I think? Maybe go him! KEEP FIGHTING!!!
If you don’t know me by now, Imma keep this as nimble and daft as I am. This long tangent explains my poor life choices. I have a broken youth many can relate to, and I hope nobody ever follows my dependency examples.
If you haven’t read my egotistical Manifesto, I see myself as a Paki Eminem. Call me EmiStan. Big fan. I can simply add my psycho manipulator dad and his lifelong male rage separation misogyny fighting with a sugar coat of post-9/11 racial bullying into the mix.
My self has no esteem. This leads to drugs usually.
If I hear one more idiot say “appreciate your parents cause they’re family and all you get” I’m going to blow my ears off and mail them to them like Gogh. It won’t be overnight shipping, and will be sent in midsummer.
I do not condone drug use at all.
All that shit makes me a somewhat unique dish; you feel?
I will also never find my Kim.
I love me too much.
It’s because women don’t. (Burn son!)
My stories are 99% true stories and 100% me. Read the intro for the 1%. I dislike reading books and I’m a cineholic. One of the many holics I am.
Rap is my passion. I heard Em on the radio when I was young and I love words with play. Also helped that I actually lived his anger and fights daily. (Thanks dad!) Rest is history.
Absolutely ZERO depth in me as compared to the average.
Stay in school kids.
I was raised to please my narc overlords like one would when training a pet; so the drugs of choice accessible in my youth were video games and movies; the perfect solution to keep me shut up at a different daycare.
Addiction, Passion, and Ego flow in my blood (fucking thanks genetics?)
I’m absolutely APEshit.
My writing/poetry/lyrics are my Batman.
I am a Republican’s absolute worst nightmare.
I’m created from one.
Ha. Ha. Ha. My jokes are bad.
The rest is more bitching like the filthy fucking Millenial that I am.
End personal history rant.
I had a particularly profound and life altering thought while deep in my emotions. It was like Drake was in my bed that night. (He was cruising in a wheelchair as opposed to a Bentley around this time. Just for scope.) A singularity of a thought that would warp every single fiber of time and space in this God forsaken black hole of mine called existence.
“I’m going to
ROLL MY DROPPED BALLS OFF
to this one day.”
It was simply the sweetest and naughtiest thought I could tell myself with all my bottled up emotions. My personal “FUCK THIS LIFE!” to my future. I wasn’t even in my teen years at the time. It was exactly like the priest and boy scenario in reverse. I had incredible ASMR pulses radiating from the Fukushima Daiichi that was once my hopes and dreams. I was giggling like the little school person that I was. It was like creating a promise ring in that moment to a girlfriend who I’m going to make my wife when I come of age.
I was and still am fucking weird okay?
Love and properly raise your kids or they grow up to be this.
You do not want this.
So fast forward some decades later to my next tender young age of 26 (young by white
standards; dying soon by organ failure to brownie standards – I like the white option on this one.) I have not been to a single EDC up to this point. I have observed someone rolling in a quieter environment though; I research heavy drugs privately first.
I totally don’t take them.
Just observe and report.
Homework I call it.
Haha. I’m Jokering.
I tested heavy drugs like they were finals in college.
If you read the intro or anything at all on my site, trust and believe I haven’t waited til 26 to debate compromising life choices.
~ I regret it all. I don’t regret living. ~
I promise myself only
>when I can afford VIP
>I will go
>Can’t afford VIP
>Will be able to
>Over the hill
>Okay! …but my back.
>irl brothers going
>Fuck it. General Admission.
>crew be goin Psycho
>I’m not patient.
>Gotta admit it.
>This is America.
>Can’t afford it.
Let’s get intros in the way.
Three of my best friends by the name of
(a beautiful and pure Indian enigma – is the brown Riddler – adorable and crazy – a brown chinchilla should come to your mind – may God bless his crotch the way God blesses religious leaders’ crotches)
(a funny, loud and proud, muscly Mexican. Bountiful bodacious blessings be upon
his crotch as well)
(Gentle giant American white cherry. Rapid fire cannon of
blessings upon his crotch to top it all off) and last along with least,
(Me as Myself, bringing up men’s crotches a tad too much – nimble and daft Remember?)
all grab a bottle of Ciroc and a Tuesday
morning level of beer.
I’m a writer/lyricist/poet/collegedropout.
Personally, that translates to
“A Metric Fuck Ton.“
I’m also a featherweight.
This scenario of theirs was actually alarming.
I did not drink at all. (Refer to sad childhood dream paragraphs.)
So we get to EDC at around 6 because my friends are freaking out about traffic and wait times and everything. They’ve been to EDC before and I have not. I take their word for everything. It seemed the other way round in regards to this story. They get an obscene amount of alcohol because they claim it is extremely expensive at EDC. This was actually not the case. It is what it is. Last thing to be concerned about in this insane hype.
LET THE PREGAMES BEGIN!
The energy in the air made me feel how Thor felt in Infinity War when he rode the lightning.
I have anxiety so it just felt like roll tides on my insides. A butterfly on crack romping on a pick up in my intestines. Another butterfly fucking a butterfly in the back of said pick up truck.
Anxiety is quite a fucking ride sometimes.
Rin has effectively downed half the bottle in the time in took you to read through my tangent in that last paragraph. Veda and Sir are crushing beers and taking a couple swigs here and there; but Rin is really flushing some inner demons with a swiftness. Rin is also celebrating the fact that he got job with a big deal company I’ll call Imtell. They even get him his VIP tickets for free. Bad and Boujee. I am fairly confident he is the most intelligent in the group, so I’m not too concerned about him.
I should’ve known success doesn’t fix true depression. I love my American naivety.
We order a cart to transport us to the entrance, screaming and hollering like a mini fractal vortex in the eye of a rainbow hurricane all the way through.
Do EDC at least once.
Even for a day.
It is only about 6:15 by the time we get in. Everything is going excellent. There is a rainbow march of love charging through the electric gates of heaven. My first thought is instantly “why the hell haven’t I come here sooner?”
This is fucking it.
We get in and overlook all of EDC. It is massive and there are thousands of people swarming like World War Z meets the Dark Dimension. I overlook the stages in the beginning and think that whole part is going to be most of EDC.
None of my friends bother to correct me. Mind you, these dumb fucks have been here before. We all decide to establish our totem as a pillar at the entrance of EDC to meet at every hour in case we split up. This was a huge mistake, and you will see why later. We make our way to the stands to get Rin a Camelback.
It is around 6:20 when a random liver punch appears.
Rin hands some dude in line $100. We have no idea why, or what gives
him this thought. He’s an innocent enigma. I know instantly that the alcohol is positively in a negative feedback loop. Rin is weird sober, so maybe this isn’t too beyond him wasted. Veda kindly asks for the money back. Veda and Sir are ripped dudes, but not intimidating at all. I will say, however, the random guy was very smart to respond in kind.
Karma’s a cunt though for no reason sometimes.
We make our way to the water line, and Rin has himself collected. I’m guessing blackout waves are occasionally nailing his head from his stomach, so he has occasional moments of clarity. It is at this moment I see things go into panic mode.
Rin starts stumbling backwards in the line. It is not the fact he is stumbling in line that is terrifying me. It’s the fact he keeps stepping on the shoes of the leader of the fucking jacked Yakuza right behind us.
These fuckers are the whole deal.
Stussy for Pussy.
Is Socially Anti.
Ninja, you’re dead.
Modern ASIAN ninjas I say!
Rin stumbles back three times and keeps stepping on Hanzo’s shoe. He then proceeds to keep wiping the dude’s shoe off with his bare hand and apologizing. I’m positive Rin has no idea the man is a buff guy in a group of other buff guys. He would’ve been scared straight out of his drunken stupor. Indian Chinchilla remember.
It is at this point I notice that Veda and Sir now have scared looks on their faces.
This is really when the fear settles in my core; because they are 8
times me – and that’s not even combined.
Rin proceeds to do it a fourth time somehow and I finally hold onto him and sternly tell him he needs to chill. All I hear is 3 words:
“Yeah, he does.“
Goosebumps every time.
I am fully Siamese Twinning Rin for dear life now. We will die – but it is not this day!
We get the water at last and scram to the food line. I tell Rin the best piece of advice you can tell someone who drinks a lot fast.
Throw up. Just fucking throw up. You’re already looking like a complete fucking idiot.
Swallow that pride, then let out the inside. The upside being there is no downside.
Throwing up alcohol won’t hurt anything, but it can save everything! Rin drunkenly refuses for some reason, and then proceeds to stumble back again. He slays another man’s shoe, but this time the guy is skinnier than me. I am infinitely more comfortable with this scenario. I still hold onto Rin because I am a publicly decent human being, but then he decides to lay down right next to the food line.
This is where I genuinely start getting mad.
Rin is somehow getting the hottest girls to sit around and worry about him. I look away for 30 seconds and return to see a circle of attractive ravers sitting around him and chanting “awww poor baby.” Veda, Sir, and I; three semi-attractive, able-bodied males; were unable to acquire even a friendly glance from the aliens known as the “Opposite Sex” this night. That’s not the only thing opposite from sex. (On fire with all these burns son!)
We all silently look at each other and conversate to internal agreement.
“He’s our little brother. We can’t just fuckin ditch him out here. Imtell will fuck us. We couldn’t possibly find a hole small enough to hide from Big Brother.”
Security then screeches over and sees the circle of witchcraft and wizardry. They proceed to say some safe and realistic bullshit about how you can’t lay down next to a riot and yada yada. Something something our safety and protection. Listen to us you fucking idiots. Boom bam, shimma sham. Next thing you know Rin is off stumbling to Downtown EDC at the entrance, as there is grass there to lay in.
We procure the food to cure the bro.
We are not exactly sure where he is, until we see a helpful chick waving two red lights in the distance. I approach a particularly colorful wagon and a med staffer waving red dildo lights.
“STOP! DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!”
“The fu. What’s up?”
“You were about to step in puke, sir. It’s all surrounding the grassy area around this gentleman.”
This is where I want to punch chinchilla Rin’s insides out internally. Told the silly bastard not even a second ago to do this humanely. We all eat some burger while escorting Rin to the med tent.
It is only 6:45.
We are the only ones with a legitimately fucked up homie walking towards the med tent at EDC.
It was actually legendary, not going to lie. That’s extreme even by my standards, and I gave up looking in the mirror at 10.
I’m sitting next to Rin and cleaning his act up, all the while he’s flipping out about Imtell.
“Dude please tell me Imtell isn’t going to find out. This can’t go on my record. I really can’t afford to lose my job.” Repeat x5.
The nurse at this point is like this guy must be on some other level shit. We really couldn’t care less even if he meth balled a jedi flip in the eyes through his ass.
We just need him to not die, please and thank you.
I say he really has just hammered down too much alcohol, and Rin starts sobering up when the head doctor comes out. I’m pretty sure Rin is fine at this point, but wants to lie down. The doctor gives him a pill that dissolves under his tongue and all is well. I take Rin over to the med tent and notice 8 clean beds on the other side. While Rin was getting cleaned up, some people had come and gone, so there was a raver laying in a bed.
This is when I knew something was still very wrong.
The raver leaves as we’re walking in, and I see his bed has a rather strange stain on it. Rin starts hovering over the bed and eyeing it as if the other 7 beds had fucking alien raver stains, and this one didn’t. I seriously cannot make an artistic comparison to that; it’s fucking perfectly insane how it is.
No more games. I’m only here for Friday. I need to fulfill some childhood dreams. I throw Rin’s bumbling ass onto a clean bed and run out with Sir and Veda.
We are going absolutely off! Audien is the first set we go to and it’s fathoms beyond my predictions.
I’ve taken my batshit self to insane places to party. No matter how good a party was, some
stupid shit would go wrong. Some dick would always want to vigorously flex the meat or start some shit. (Skinny Brown Man. Murica. You get the idea.)
This place had none of that noise. This place was right. First time in my life I experienced
absolutely no negativity or anger. No douchebros. No judging. Heaven. My own element.
Everyone in their own element. Appreciating all elements. Elementals.
Just go once for your sake.
Hype Beasting all day.
So now 7:30 hits. I know! Only an hour! Fucking awesome story right? You’re welcome. I loved EDC too. That’s why I wrote a manic epic on it!
We now manpede over to Deorro.
Manpede is a shitty word meaning human stampede on Urban.
My definition is better cause I’m better:
50% Man Centipede
50% Bro Stampede
Veda, Sir and I were a fantastic Thomas the Testes Train fucking up the Rainbow Brick Road. It was GOLDEN. We did this because of something I deduced as the “slipstream.” I swear on almighty Hawking this fucking thing can quantumly be measured – and I plan on physicating for life ((God bless his soul (that he didn’t believe existed)) If you do not hold hands with your friends as you are moving through crowds, you will not find them. There is service in very tiny points throughout EDC. You might catch a 2 message exchange in a 3 hour time span. No biggie.
“Five Hours” – Deorro
5 hours rips through the crowd like taser pinball in Hong Kong (FUCK EM UP
PROTESTERS! I SUPPORT EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!)
It is at this point during the slap happy rage (thank Deorro) that I have absolutely lost Sir and his hand in front of me.
He has entered a slipstream.
Fucked up in my mess of emotional panic synchronized excitement, I lunge forth with might to try and stop him.
Veda is now lost to a slipstream behind me.
The wild Ali hurt itself in it’s own confusion!
—-> Pokeball? (How? What? The fuck???)
—-> Raze? !!!
RAZE BITCHES. That word is A LOT more hard core than rage. Google it.
I’m SPECIAL! I USE WORDS CAUSE THEY’RE NOW LATIN.
~~SNOWFLAKE POWER ACTIVATE~~
AM I DOING IT RIGHT?
Girls all have their cute and unique outfits on. They’re incredibly easy to find.
Us dudes however?
We all have the same light masks on. We are all Bane. We are all Legion. This is pain. We do not know who the real ones are. This situation is not bromantic. I am a petite, Paki Rose. I like to be surrounded by muscular Jacks when I raze. For you feminubs and alphaprotoapexpredators who think that’s “gay” – real men love to feel protected as well. Life is kind of super fuckin important to us, too. Shocking. Daddy issues. Fuck you too. Point is, I’m not finding my friends….
Oh wait! The hell is that in the sky? Is it a bird? A plane? The thing that’s above this part of the story? Why yes! The
T O T E M
T O T E M
AOOGA! AOOGA! AOOGA OOGA OOGA!
We had left the med tent around 7. It was around 7:15 when we lost each other. It is now around 7:45 by the time I’m done with the set. I go check on my fam in the tent; he’s still sleeping. I then make my way to the totem and get there by 8. I see no mans in sight for 5-10 minutes.
BACK TO WOOOOOOO!!!!
I repeated that last paragraph 3 times.
Mr. SoloYolo. Still shot over the moon.
I make a 4th trip to check on Rin. The doctor looks at me strangely.
“You gonna be here a while?”
“Yeah. Why? What’s wrong? What happened? FUCKING TELL ME!! TELL ME HE’S GONNA MAKE IT! IMTELL IS WATCHING US LIVE IN 4K AS WE SPEAK! YOU BETTER PRIORITIZE HIS LIFE FOR BOTH OUR SAKES DOC.”
“Chill. He urinated himself. I might have done so a little myself after that Imtell threat. He can stay here all night. You go enjoy yourself. You’re a good lad.”
I heavy exaggerated that whole exchange for your amusement.
I think to myself that he was practically okay when he passed out, minus the drunken alien raver stain incident. That fucking nausea pill crosses my mind, but I’m no doctor. I think stupid things when it comes to health scenarios. We all do. Especially those of you that are fucking ancient plague revivors. You’re metal as fuck. Not in a good way.
Time to be THE mad lad.
I can now raze up with no weight.
I gave up finding Sir and Veda. I get messages from them here and there
“wya?!?!!?!?” – at EDC this text means WOAH! YOU ALIVE?!?!
I’m too focused on enjoying my one day here this 2019 EDC to try and establish connection. One last insane thing happens that I still won’t be able to believe til the day I die.
The minute I try to scope a dealer for my childhood fulfillment – I see a VERY familiar face with a giant funky hair wig.
Carbon copy of the Green Mini Troll Doll.
That’s all you need to visualize.
Not a SINGLE detail in your head is off.
I promise you this.
It was my fucking old weed dealer out partying! I will name him Pez since he was certainly not out dealing Jane at this event. Legalization and all that bimObama.
I make deep eye contact with him and then drop my mask. Instant happy hugs with hooting and hollering.
Ebony and Ivory.
His eyes were exactly like my cat’s at the peak of darkness. Every cell in his body was being atom bombed with the threesome that is serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine. I want to be blue unicorn level Happy! too!
I. Want. In.
This stealthy and successful dealer takes out a huge bag of green pills in “HEY FUCKING LOOKY HERE AT THE SUNSHINE IN MY BAG EVERYONE” like the fucking sun was rising instead of setting.
In the back of a popular set.
Where probably ALL the undercovers are.
Watching. Waiting. Gyrating. Crucifying.
I have anxiety. I have a couple incidences with police. Never hurt anyone, just caught doing drugs in places where drugs are illegal.
The absolute worst thing for me would be to get caught up in this setting.
I aim to never get arrested again. Really not on any personal goal list. I put my mask back on in a blink and make the exchange at warp speed. I then Flash my brown ass through a timestream.
Yeah. Fuck a slipstream. I was gone THAT fast.
I need to take this ray from the spectrum an hour before Deadmau5. I Remember. Do you?
I take it and check on Rin one last time. For us lads, Deadmau5 is the main event.
Rin is gone. Doc says Veda and Sir have scooped him and they’re on their merry way to
Wonderland. This is great news for me because I just wanted to wake him up and inform him of Deadmau5 at 2am. I had no intention of dragging Rin’s piss posh ass around. He has another 2 days here; he will survive (I hope.) I get to Deadmau5 and prepare myself for the best.
The roll was a hardcore one for a little. Crashed fast.
Definitely not pure MDMA. Most likely a lot of Coca-Cola mixed dud (E)ntropy.
It got SO cold at 4 am. Sweaters and blankets were gone in a heartbeat.
Main lights on his set didn’t work.
He didn’t wear a Mau5ead. (Actually didn’t mind this too much. Never seen him before)
He played only new songs.
I found it hilarious that I had the best time ever without the childhood dream.
It just made the crash from it all worse.
2019 was simply a learning experience.
Love, Live, and Learn folks.
Eventually 5 o’ clock came and the much desired solar energy from event horizon ripped the frigid embrace of the abyss out of every raver’s chest.
It was a pleasant cherry on top of the cherries.
I am still speeding underneath the crash, so I eventually reach the car faster than the cart
brought us in. I see them waiting for me and am relieved to hear that Veda and Sir had a most excellent time. Rin is sitting in his piss and shame; avoiding eye contact and giving puppy eyes here and there.
If you had a pet chinchilla that pissed itself, would you love it any less? Think it any less adorable?
Same scenario. We love him. Were we mad he almost got our asses whooped and somehow pulled chicks unconsciously? Yes. But we’re all
brothers here. He can do no wrong when we are all razing each other up.
Unless he bangs my future wife.
That’ll do it.
They ask me why my eyes look like their cat’s in the darkest point of night.
CatMen, assembled! I tell them the cutesy cuddle adderoll; funny lookin dealer story.
Then ask where the fuck
their dumbasses went.
Veda went to check on Rin and the totem the minute we all lost each other. He left after 5
He would continue to check on Rin and go to the totem in this time frame for reasons beyond me.
Sir looked at the set for 10 more mins. He would check Rin and the totem every hour from ~7:30-7:40.
I would be checking, like we ALL agreed, at 8 o’ clock and so forth. Cause normal fuckin
people who agree to meet at a place every hour will most likely choose whole numbers.
Idk, maybe I’m just anal about shit.
But then again this was an
Ali Story Session
Here Only Laughter Emanates 🙂
Here’s a teaser trailer up next for those of you keeping up with my asshole.
Operation Desert Storm:
Arizona Paintball Edition
Navy Seals Vs. Not Seals
-Ally (Warrior Asshole. Fighter Origin. Last Seen Not Picking Fights with Yakuza.)