#un(responsive)

[baskuiat]

august 3rd, 2019 - @pullstrings

with a heavy sigh and notebook in hand, tommy sat down on the grass not too far from the water. he had come to the han river for some writing inspiration and fresh air. but as soon as he arrived, he began to regret it. everywhere he looked there were young couples giggling and cooing under trees and much more good-looking young men and women jogging right under his nose. while it had already been a few months since he was released from prison (early, with probation at that), tommy felt odd in public spaces. he rarely grocery shopped or went out to eat. most of his work was done in the comfort of his own home. he tried his best to stay out of trouble now that he felt some sense of career stability. and yet, he missed his old self. old friends. old flames.

pursing his lips in thought, he reflected a bit on what it was he actually wanted. sometime between when he moved to seoul and the moment his sentence was set, he had decided that he wanted to become known for making music. not as an addict or sick person. now that he was out, he debated whether it was that he wanted to be known for his music or simply just known. sitting in arguably the most populated area he had inhabited as of late, he felt largely insignificant and unseen in his baseball cap. maybe notoriety was what he was looking for all along. absentmindedly, he took out his phone and began to scroll through his contacts for some hopeful affirmation. mid-way he stopped. jungah? he mouthed out the name. jung-ah? memories came rushing in. quickly, he messaged her.

[ sms » jungah ? ] hey. remember me? 

tommy snapped a photo of the twinkling water that reflected the setting sun, making sure the illuminated bridge was recognizable in the distance so that it was unmistakable where he was. he attached the photo in the chat.

[ sms » jungah ? ] let’s meet.

[baskuiat]

ur dp makes u look ugly

“Haaa, look at ya nose. Nose long like garden hose.”

[baskuiat]

📬

Only when it was typically too late did Tommy ever check his mail. The tiny metal rectangle always filled to capacity with flyers and coupons and other shit he had no interest or time for. Maybe if he checked it more than once a month, the task wouldn’t be so overwhelming tedious, but good habits are hard to make (or something like that).

This time around he was actually expecting something of importance, not an overdue bill or an adaptor for his laptop that shipped in a tiny cardboard box much too big for the size of item, but something that got him out of bed and dressed before noon. With keys in hand, he headed down, hoping mail had already arrived for the day. 

Of course, once he reached the rows and rows of mailboxes, it took him some time to locate his apartment number. It’s by apartment numbers, right? he thought to himself, fumbling with the tiny, silver key. Fuckin’ obviously, Tommy.

The door opened with some difficulty, but alas, he did it. As expected, it was stuffed with all the neighborhood ads, the cheap paper crinkled and torn in order to make room for more of its kind. Removing what was now an irrelevant invitation to the summer food festival, his search came to a halt. Atop a pile of letters lay a deep purple vegetable, an eggplant. 

“What the fuck?”

[baskuiat]

your dp makes him look like a fuccboi

If you find me to be INTIMIDATING in any way, anonymously send ☠ along with the reasons why.

// there is absolutely no evidence to prove he is not, so..

[baskuiat]

bc ur fc looks like a drug dealer :3c

If you find me to be INTIMIDATING in any way, anonymously send ☠ along with the reasons why.

// HOOBOY 

lmaooooo ok BUT he’s not so. cut him some slack. he didn’t ask to be born this way. 

[baskuiat]

@mug40

After emerging from self-imposed isolation and signing with Crown Empire, Tommy took note in the ways his life, so seemingly and vastly different from just a year ago, was ever-presently the same. But isn’t that what they (Bon Jovi, actually) say? The more things change, the more they stay the same.

“Hyung, why you got such a fancy place?” Tommy asked Jihwan one night. The two were talking music and plans for the future in between smoke breaks. Not much had been discussed. “Who is payin’ you this well, the fuck? Crown got you livin’ in Gangnam.”

[baskuiat]

@pullstrings

[ sms » Jungah ? ] but good, see you then. I'm sure we'll find somethin to entertain each other with Read 5:31 PM

Typically he was the bad one. He usually never checks his phone and when he does, it is a mindless motion of opening messages, leaving them read and without response. It was easy to get away with that kind of thing he came to find out. Most girls would be peeved at first, but after a few days they would be pretty willing to let go of those small details. Some, however, did not like to play ball. Jungah was one those girls.

Tommy laughed it off, albeit a bit nervously, understanding she may have a bigger sense of pride than him. But he did not have to play games to know that—he could see that the second he laid eyes on her at the release party last year. So this good girl ain’t so good after all, huh? From first impressions, Tommy could tell there was something sinful about her, something in the pools of her eyes and the curves of her lips. But little did he know...

He arrived at Madholic around 10 o’clock, a little buzzed thanks to his friends. 

“Yo, so Kuddo-ssi is bringin’ a chick,” one of the promoters would reveal as he showed the group to their sectioned off area with tables and bottle service. “What happened to your idol girlfriend? Y’all break up?”

“You know it was never like that,” retorted Tommy, the rest coming to his defense. They all knew Tommy long enough to know it was never like that.

Soon after they sat down and ordered shots, his friend group scattered—but not without some teasing of their own. Oh, hyung, you got a girl, oh, we’ll leave you alone, oh. And even more, Is she bringing friends? You’re so selfish. But all Tommy did was roll his eyes, telling them to get lost for good. 

It was only 10:30 PM when he began to wonder if he should suck it up and text his date again. No, he thought, she’ll be here soon. So there he sat alone in his leather booth and bathing in red light, waiting for a girl that may never show up.

[baskuiat]

a growling suggestion: from here. @aidonaea

It never occurred to him through his recollections of the past, the sorrowing memories of all his misdeeds, that the great trouble he caused was not something he should regret. What for? If it was fated to occur, why he should repent on the hearts he tainted? It was God’s will.

Perhaps what Kuddo mistook for destiny was really just part of the consequences.

“Then why is it that when they hurt,” he started, “I hurt?”

In the dimly lit lounge, there he sat, drowning out his demons. Too many drinks clouded his judgement, rendering him a sad mixture of pain and paranoia. Could this be divine punishment? What did Yue know about that? 

Like a forsaken child, the offspring of a terrible god, Kuddo was left alone to his vices. And just like the many fatherless demigods, he was made an outcast, one destined to a miserable life—to hurt and be hurt.

“I never meant for any of this...”