Page 2 of 2
This year has been especially difficult, and currently, he's only making about $300 a week. The thought of suicide often has crossed his mind. "It's embarrassing. When you're young and full of hope, you never ..." his eyes get red and he looks down at the table. "I never thought I'd be 31 and living out of my car. I've had [a razor blade] in my hands. But I'm not a coward. I pull down my visor and look at the pictures of my girls."
He copes by having faith ("Asking if I believe in God is like asking if I believe in my legs"), a nice phone with a Netflix account a buddy lets him use and humor. Once he took a girl to dinner. She got into his car and he'd forgotten to stash his pillow. "She asked why I had it and I made up some story about passing out drunk and wishing I'd had a pillow. 'Oh, I thought you assumed I was going to sleep with you,' she said. I was like, whew, good. 'Cause I thought you thought I lived in my car!"
He raps a new verse, and it's catchy and funny. His flow is nimble, his breath control good. Dusk falls, and it's so chilly I'm eager to get in my car until the thought occurs that Marcou likely never has that feeling. As if reading my mind, he suddenly shrugs.
"When I had a record deal, I remember thinking how much easier it was selling CDs out of my backpack. Maybe in a few years, I'll look back and think how much simpler life was living out of my car."