It Was All A Dream: Air ?uesto’s Edition

1 Aug

As if my sleeping habits weren’t already fucked up enough, I stayed up till 6 A.M. last night typing up the bio for the immensely talented RideOut, and literally fell asleep on the keyboard as I was writing. As I was finishing it this morning, I got a hold of Elzhi’s upcoming album The Preface, so we all know that I couldn’t go to sleep without at least skimming through that. And right after that, I finally got some Z’s.

But between then and now, I had a dream.

Earlier this week, I got the terrible news that Burn Rubber, the best sneaker shop in Michigan, won’t have the my size of the Air Questo’s that I’ve been looking forward to wasting my money on. I know, they’re tacky anyway; but they’re a good tacky. I know, they’re hard to match up with; but I don’t care. I know, they cost way too much money; but I would’ve made the sacrifice. Granted, I shouldn’t be upset about something I didn’t already have, but as I’ve blogged before, I just keep having the worst luck with this dude.

I dreamt that I was at some nondescript industry event, and that I befriended ?uestlove, who was chillin’ at the bar drinking a vitamin water. I casually introduced myself by name, and he tells me that he knows who I am. That he read my blog about how I’ve missed several photo opps with him because of drunken YTs, fuckhead journalists, and crackheads-turned-parking lot coordinators, and that I missed the golden opportunity to interview him because of this shady broad at MSU’s financial aid office. We chop it up for about 15 minutes about Dilla, Detroit, and other shit that real Untitleds talk about. I let him know that I planned on copping his shoes no matter how hard they’d be to match, but that circumstances prevented such.

Then, with the exact same pose and smile as he does in this picture, he gave me two pair of the ?uesto’s: the “regular” pair, and the special edition gold toe pair.

I got him to sign the red-toed pair, thanked him profusely, gave him a pound and kept it moving. Real, of course, recognizes real.

The dream wasn’t very linear after that; just random anecdotes with a Maybach and Kerry Washington, with the beats for Elzhi’s “Guessing Game,” “Yeah” and “Hands Up” playing in the background. But I swear, the entire mood of the dream was incredibly satisfying after that.

Then I get woken up from my brother, who had my homegirl on the phone who had asked to wake me up. Naturally, she had absolutely nothing to talk about. Hence, being awakened from my much-needed rest and a dream during which I was literally on cloud nine, I went asshole on her. And only about half of my crabbiness was her fault.


Maybe it’s a sign from the sneaker gods that it wasn’t meant to be. Oh well, though. MF DOOM Dunks, here I come!



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