Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Eyes locked with a Cyclops dressed in Armani gear and high tops



Sometimes I wish I could just walk away from everything and busk my way through the underbelly of this city, living from handcrafted latte to latte, rich and thick as a meal, food for my soul and nothing else, my hands and body emanating ambiance, tapping, striking into the collective mood, and inspiring random emotional resonance in the rush of faces and days. A playlist for our lives.

Working so steady, the days repeating themselves, so painfully bland, 9 to 5, I miss being lost in the semi emotional trance of genius, walking at some brink in my brain that accesses a higher self, dips into some collective emotional truth that leaves me when the work is finished, and I am shocked by what I have created. It's a similar other, higher self that walks in my feet when I dance, rolling and riding the waves of my sexuality and the air is heavy with sound, and I am unable to stop until the music finally releases me.

I want to live in this state all the time.

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