Sportive Journal – Fuckin Mac miller

The first time I saw Mac Miller I told my mate that he was super wack. What an asshole. He was a kid, starting his career. I saw him with his cap, his polo shirt and his Nikes talking about frozen pizza and who knows, I guess I saw myself and I felt sick. But that way of being. That way of evolving… Mac motherfucking Miller.

His last two albums will be covered in decades and decades and the people who were lucky enough to be his friends speak of him as an angel. The superficial white boy who made black music knew how to transcend that shit and appropriate a style, a vibe, a groove that he made so much his own that no one could question it: he had soul. Mac motherfucking Miller. And it’s not just his music, his evolution and his bravery. He was a good kid, a really good guy.

One day he retweeted a song by an artist that no one knew, the song was called White Iverson. The rest is history. I met Post Malone because of that tweet. It had about a thousand plays on Soundcloud the first time a played that track. Mac motherfucking Miller…

Today would have been his 32 nd birthday, but the contemporary drama of mental illness and drug abuse took him away. He was going through one of them bad times and, sincerely, I don´t think Pete´s Davidson jokes were helpful.

But he just wanted some oxis to numb the pain away. His battle with addiction is well documented along his music, he really wanted to leave all that back.

The reality is that drugs are everywhere and easy to reach, and it´s proved that no war against it is working. What the actual regulations just achieve is that people have to go and find their dose in the streets, in the black market, and is there where the greedy dealers cut their drugs with cheaper shit like fentanyl to make more money; is there where accidents meet murders.

“Swear the height be too tall… So like September I fall…” Mac motherfucking Miller.

@kike.kiks