My inbox has been full of words. Words, silence, emoticons and the helplessness akin to having to endure a roller coaster ride you grossly overestimated your endurance for. You’re queasy and dizzy and your people are watching from the ground hoping you don’t throw up — hoping they don’t have to live through the mess. I expected and understood it but it still annoyed me. Again, I … Continue reading This song, my God, I have wept!
My second memory, is me throwing up in the toilet after a whole day of running around, moving into this house. My college was in a very hot and dusty town. This town along with school, killed my already elusive joie de vivre. Even now, fifteen months after I officially left school, there are parts of me that are yet to be reawakened; anxieties to be rationalized. By the time we got our house in livable condition, I was so exhausted and dizzy, throwing up was more logical a reaction than any. Continue reading The way music stays with you.
And then Drake’s Hotline Bling happened and I was done. That song destroyed the goodwill I still had left for hip-hop in me. Because on the surface it’s a sad, albeit catchy, song about heartbreak, but then you think about it and it’s the kind of subtle misogyny that makes you want to crawl up in a fetal position and weep for days. Continue reading Drake honey, your misogyny is showing.