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Grassroots activist, feminist, sociologist, poop talk pro, future foster mom, travel whore, thrift store junky, music and food consumer.

Friday, February 18, 2011

In Music's Name I Say...

I wanted to write a piece that was a reflection of my love for music and someone very dear to me, so I hope I've served them both justice. This is a short piece, but I love it and I think you will too:)




Old School
It started out as a way to release tension. I would turn it on and allow it to melt away my problems. I’d turn it up and wonder if the neighbors were listening or if their next glances my way would be condescending. I found myself contemplating season after season but never could settle on just one reason why I…fell in love with old school.


I remember the first time I got acquainted with the melodies. Back to back to back. Played out like those 8 tracks or brothers and convicted felonies. It was all that jazz…wasn’t. Spoke to me in different harmonies. Every note set my heart at ease as I...fell in love with old school.




I’d be screaming at the top of my lungs. Just humming! “Get it giiiirrrl” because this is your song. Second to none I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting to know. It didn’t matter the tempo. It could’ve been fast or slow. 1, 2, 3, into the 4. I would find myself in a zone getting it on til 6 in the morning as I…fell in love with old school.



Couldn’t tell me nothing once the beat dropped, and my legs cocked…open…yeeeah, I fell in love with Old School….or at least, that’s what I called him.

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