You make me shoot you one for three (143) points.
No, you're no rebound.
You make my heart dribble so fast how can I say foul when what I did for you was fall.
Oh how my love for you will never ever fade away.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Bask In Love, Basketball
For so long, I have been travelling.
You make my heart dribble so fast how can I say foul when what I did for you was fall.
You make my heart dribble so fast how can I say foul when what I did for you was fall.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
When Music Listens
Last night saw me Bed Soundtripping yet again. That lull into the twilight when sleeplessness makes you ponder, reflect, introspect, brood, & eventually overthink things I shouldn't even be bothering myself with in the first place. But Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce & Mariah were simply an inescapable nightcap.
Could that set be any gayer?
The funny part was I was just playing Usher, Chris Brown, Ne-Yo & Bruno Mars days prior and boy was I so into the mood for love during such high time.
Could that even be a straight thing, dude?
Whatever.
Thing is, when these ladies started filling my ears with their bittersweet music, instant schmaltz crept into me. Unwelcome musings began flooding my head: with my current "BTB" (boyfriend-to-be) status for someone, am I
a. being taken for granted? Put on hold because presumably not going away?
b. being a wait-there guy? Placed in a queue of priorities and only when I am worth a time or two will I finally earn my well-deserved turn?
c. being stupid? Held back by somebody who thinks I am too unassuming, too meek, too good (to be true), a lamb to the slaughter, a reserve, despite the explicitness of enamored feelings?
d. being tested? That if I make a single misstep, I'm automatically out.
e. being saved the best as I may be the last? Sounds the one I would want to be.
Heck, my music knows me better. And surely, Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce and Mariah all knew it wasn't my listening to them that mattered last night. Instead, it was THEIR listening to my every thought between their heartfelt lyrics, their pained words & affectations that did. That whenever we soundtrip to our favorite singers' hits, it's not us who really do the listening; it's them as they transform to become our biographers & therapists. And that notion relieves our hearts, knowing there is someone (or some star) out there who can retell our life story, a star who sees above us, who can translate our indescribable pains into words, and transmute our outbursts into glorious belting. Music therapy - Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce and Mariah as our best listeners in times ourselves cannot be to our own.
Could that set be any gayer?
The funny part was I was just playing Usher, Chris Brown, Ne-Yo & Bruno Mars days prior and boy was I so into the mood for love during such high time.
Could that even be a straight thing, dude?
Whatever.
Thing is, when these ladies started filling my ears with their bittersweet music, instant schmaltz crept into me. Unwelcome musings began flooding my head: with my current "BTB" (boyfriend-to-be) status for someone, am I
a. being taken for granted? Put on hold because presumably not going away?
b. being a wait-there guy? Placed in a queue of priorities and only when I am worth a time or two will I finally earn my well-deserved turn?
c. being stupid? Held back by somebody who thinks I am too unassuming, too meek, too good (to be true), a lamb to the slaughter, a reserve, despite the explicitness of enamored feelings?
d. being tested? That if I make a single misstep, I'm automatically out.
e. being saved the best as I may be the last? Sounds the one I would want to be.
Heck, my music knows me better. And surely, Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce and Mariah all knew it wasn't my listening to them that mattered last night. Instead, it was THEIR listening to my every thought between their heartfelt lyrics, their pained words & affectations that did. That whenever we soundtrip to our favorite singers' hits, it's not us who really do the listening; it's them as they transform to become our biographers & therapists. And that notion relieves our hearts, knowing there is someone (or some star) out there who can retell our life story, a star who sees above us, who can translate our indescribable pains into words, and transmute our outbursts into glorious belting. Music therapy - Adele, Alicia Keys, Beyonce and Mariah as our best listeners in times ourselves cannot be to our own.
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