Before I go into why the Woods are my favorite Stones family (in tomorrow’s article), restoring my faith in the band, I must tell this one. After winning my lawsuit against Miss Lily’s I got a part-time gig at a pizza place in Park Slope, Amorina. I was the phone slash delivery girl, organizing all the take-out and pick up orders. The staff like the restaurant was small, and run by an insane woman named Ellen. Italian, hot tempered, miserable (cuckquean) and out of her mind. This bitch woman literally held my last check of $500 hostage after I quit. Mind you, I left due to an underserving tirade, which she was known to do. Her own daughter commented her mom was off. She’d just snap out of nowhere, then act like everything was normal. As she’s refusing to give me my money, I’m making plans to attend my missing friend Robbie’s memorial. When I started the job he disappeared, causing me to leave in tears one shift. She’d been with me through this traumatic ordeal and didn’t give af. I had to pull up to her restaurant TWICE to get my money. Unhinged. At least she apologized to the staff after I read her ass for being bogus af.
This is where I met Jack James, a beautiful, tall, chiseled musician/model hailing from Texas. He loves Elvira, made me laugh until I cried, and like myself is a classic rock whore. We were kool and the gang until we started reppin our sets. A rivalry older than Bloods VS. Crips-The Beatles or The Stones, which is the better band? He barely let me speak, making his opinion fact before storming off. An attack akin to stepping on someone’s motherfucking kicks. Indignant was an understatement! Affronted I harbored this resentment until I got him back for his Harry Styles boa dig (a slight tiff that turned into a WMag social media post, with designer Marc Jacobs inserting himself). I never said I was above it, I’m petty. Being a Stones fan is a lifestyle. In my eyes he came for my entire existence! The Rolling Stones influenced me more than anyone, ever. Without them I’d literally be dead. Their music was the only thing that kept me alive my first year at Emerson College. Deep in the throes of addiction, nothing but cocaine, coffee, and cigarettes as sustenance, I lived on the verge of two worlds. I became skeletal in frame, going from a Double D to a D (boob weight never regained); my friends remarked I was on a different drug every time they saw me. My friends told me verbatim I was going to die. It was that bad, I just kept cutting straws, snorting lines and doing me. While the Stones had always been my everything, it was that year I needed them most. Just one more song to keep me going. My ringtone was Cocksucker Blues (the tour rehearsal version), that’s how dependent I was on the music.
Don’t get me wrong I fucking love The Beatles, LOVE. Had Jack let me expound my answer would have been this: you can’t have one without the other, it’s symbiotic. One’s rooted in pop, the other in blues, yet they’re both rock bands. The Beatles who invented albums and music videos (easily the most musically innovative band of all time) sing about what they wish the world to be, The Stones sing about it’s actualities (both groups have range, this is the same generalization of you can bring the Beatles home to your parents, not the Stones). For those using sales as a determinate, name one Stones song you can play for children? I was singing Yesterday in elementary school. The Stones have more soul, I can dance to their music, it’s hood relatable for the ignorant who think rock is white people music (black people created rock n roll), they’ve always credited black people, they created the template for the musicians lifestyle (sex, drugs, rock n roll), they created the “bad boy,” they broke gender, fashion, and race barriers/norms, challenging the status quo at every turn, changing the cultural landscape. The Stones dressed in drag when it was illegal, influencing everyone from the Chili Peppers to Nirvana to do so. I’m a revolutionary, because The Rolling Stones made me one. But, but, they need The Beatles, it’s the Yin to their Yang. You can’t have one without the other, nor do we want to. It’s the perfect musical balance.
Cut to now and gorgeous Jack is literally in a band with Sean Lennon’s wife Charlotte Kemp Muhl, and I dated Mick Jagger. You can’t make this shit up. You truly, genuinely can’t. So next time Naomi Campbell decides to lie for two white men appropriating our Caribbean culture for profit (Genc and Binn Jakupi), before Georgia May Jagger, her equally idiotic siblings and affiliates make assumptions (based on race), do make sure it’s someone who isn’t well connected. Should I continue on how many people grew up with me, displaying you’re liars and racists or…? Who did Melanie Hamrick know before raping Mick & murdering L’Wren Scott? Exactly. Jack, Daddy, are we the guardians of rock n roll? FYI he also loves the Rolling Stones, don’t come for him. Via: Jack James Busa Insta, Uni_Loonies & Riley And John