Bait

I'm deep enough, into music.

Deep enough to here them talking to me with rhythm, and where surface chorus' fade and become just another sky. Needless to say, that through the atmosphere, through the clouds and into the struggles of everyday human beings, I get intense pleasure and satisfaction from the music of black pain; the terrain of hip hop that I traverse via subway trains.



The west side #1 is my vehicle to and from work everyday, and every day, my mental state adopts the genius of a bum. The ability to subconsciously hold conversations with myself. Call me crazy, because that may be just what it is. I may just be crazy enough to actually listen to hip hop lyrics; that's what I'm hooked on. I'm never swimming in a lone moment.



And I refuse, absolutely refuse to do the most talking; after all, I just provide the questions. 96 street is the next stop. Half way there. Still a head full of questions.

Why doesn't anyone listen anymore? Or am I listening too deeply to, perhaps, unintentional double entendre's. Maybe you, Lu, didn't really mean to satirize the standards of "coolness", and I'm just mentally plotting a path of self righteous- illusion; seeing through wishful societal corrections from an emo perspective. And the woman across me second guesses her perception of me as cute for.....crazy. Her curiosity makes me smile.

I wish I didn't have to go to work this morning (so I thought). I hate swapping headphones for the ring of the elevator.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

1 Comment:

jasmine aequitas said...

complementary to my post.

woo! dope. and i dig the layout change. bravo, sir.