The first time I heard College Dropout was when I was a 16-year-old riding around with my friend Jeff in his black Honda Accord.
I remember driving through the streets of our small town in Western Iowa, maxing out the volume with “Jesus Walks,” feeling like the rest of our lives wouldn’t happen and we’d be cruising the drag forever, stopping at the Kum & Go for Mountain Dews that were way too large, probably stunting our growth.
Our lives at the time—the girls, the friends, the parents, nothing—didn’t matter, because all that mattered, in that moment, was Kanye’s peculiar blend of humbling arrogance.
That feeling. That existence. It’s driven something into me, to this day, into the way I think.
This is a very strange life. We have our friends. We have our idols. We have our lovers. We all just want someone that makes our throat jump.
To this day, I will always spit it through the wire, man. No matter what, man. There’s too much on my heart right now, man. There’s too much on my heart.