Tuesday, February 6
Lately I've been trying to figure out what has happened to my beloved Love. She has always been the life of the party. She has always provided me and others who love her with a place to retreat to. She was the person that I, as well as others could go to when no one else understood us. Whether it was in the 80s at house parties, outside at the park when I felt like dancing, or if I just felt like drawing. She understood. She let me be myself. She didn't care what color I was.
I grew up with my Love all around and underneath me. She would be there when I woke up in the morning. She was there when I was alone and needed someone to talk to. She was there when I was happy and wanted to share that joy. She has always been around... and now she is on life support. She is dying.
My Love's name is Hip Hop.
At times she shows moments of revival, but they have been soft thumps compared to the virus that she is fighting off. She went from Sugarhills and Blowing with Kurtis to a bowl of Chicken Noodle Soup and trying to Walk It Out. That's when I knew she was sick. I needed to check her into the hospital. She never even liked Chicken Noodle Soup, and she would much rathered to Dance it out on some cardboard than to Walk It Out. This virus that the Dr called "Hustle" has taken over her soul it seems. It makes her do some crazy things and it is so fucking scary. She has become obsessed with the kind of car and rims that I have. She refuses to ride in my Impala with no chrome. She's constantly making these involuntary moves with her body that look like she's going into a convulsion. People have tried to tell me that she is dancing, but it's not the same as the dancing that she used to do. These movements are unlike her. She loves dancing, but I don't know if she is dancing.
Sometimes now the only artistic drawing that she does is her signature on checks or words on notebook paper. She used to love to draw almost anywhere... buildings, trains, under bridges... everywhere. She has forgotten how to express herself through colors. I remember when we used to be in the basement and I was younger. We would mess up old records because we would become these DJ wannabees. She practiced at that DJing thing and became real good at it... She started to do it along with dancing and speaking. Speaking of speaking, she used to like to stand up in front of people and spread her words of knowledge, wisdom, and humor. Now she only talks about one of four things, or all four to audiences... violence, sex, money, or drugs. That was not her style. She was way more versatile than that.
Another thing that this virus called "Hustle" has transformed my Love into is a nympho. She has always liked having sex, but now she talks about it more than ever. She is so explicit now with her words and thoughts as well. She used to talk about it all the time, but it was so subtle and imaginative. Now she flat out will say what it is that she wants, how she wants it, where, and with who. It is kind of disturbing although I must admit that it kind of turned me on at first. Now it's tired.
My Love is dying ya'll. How can she be revived? Does she need to be revived? Is she just growing up and evolving into a different person before my eyes? If so, I don't like this person. She seems to be more infatuated with the unecessary things of life. She needs some medicine... thats all. I'm convinced that she will be okay, but maybe that's me being optimistic.
Memoirs of DocBoone