“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like the fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars …” – Jack Kerouac, On The Road (1957)
I went looking for Ol’ Dirty Bastard on Sunday afternoon. This is my story.
I head east, with two friends, on Wilshire Boulevard and begin, what is to be, an unforgettable day.
I suppose I have been looking for ODB since his untimely passing in 2004. Hip-hop has become achingly predictable since Dirt’s departure. In URB #157, I profiled Dances With White Girls, a lesser-known DJ whose …


























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