Not to self-pity but last week I had to go down to a place I don’t like and sit through stuff I can’t stand. To get through this ordeal I played too much “Yeezus” and “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy” over and over again, top volume, Highway 101. Every time “Power” came on I hit repeat. “Send It Up” – like five times. Now I’ve got to come down.
Sigh. I know I listen to a ton of rap – usually to help me blast through. It’s become indispensable to my job. Then, afterward, I’m like, wait a minute, I can’t believe I bought into all that Maybach machismo bull. In the real world, I don’t want to be around anything like that attitude. I hope my kids don’t listen to my playlists. Went to a women’s college, write books for children. I drive a Volvo! Only too late, it’s in my head. I’ve got several choice lyrics about Kanye’s anatomy/ego stuck on my inner soundtrack.
Help! I need a musical palate cleanser. Because right now I feel pissed at the world because it’s not mine.