“‘Star’ by Brockhampton, was the wrench thrown into my works, the cause of me nearly tearing my hair out by the roots.”
There are times when I feel like I’m in the flow of things, gettin’ stuff done and moving onto the next. The assembly line that is Mouser has taken more than quite a bit of effort to emplace, but the elbow grease was nothing, things were getting done. Though as with all machinery there are malfunctions; a part missing, a component burnt out, wear and tear, etc. I thought I had this place all oiled and purring, but I’m afraid to say it’s hit a snag. What’s worse is the kind of snag we’ve hit… Well I wouldn’t say hit as much as… ahh I should just say it: I messed up.
One of the most interesting bits of audio/visual entertainment came to my office a while ago and I let it sit. Yes, me, Desmonde, sat and stared at the paper I was supposed to write. Why? Since I’m done with the pretense I’ll just let you all know. I didn’t know what to do with it. I was enthralled, yes, but scared of not doing justice to something that deserves it. My trembling hand reached for the typewriter only to retract, slapped away by my creeping mental storm I brought upon myself.
“Star” by Brockhampton, was the wrench thrown into my works, the cause of me nearly tearing my hair out by the roots. Intrigued to my core, I sat and waited, waited for a spring of inspiration to burst forth and give me the right words. After enough time of my own faltering, I gave up. To that end I’m sorry, but it did bring me to a point. The point I reached was desperation, desperate to think of and write out just the right words and the right way to describe music that’s different from what usually passes my desk. That desperation broke me open, and left me with nothing: I can only describe and adjust my proverbial glasses and crack my knuckles before I type.
I felt my knees move, my foot tap, and before I knew it, I was bobbing my head in my office, not a care in the world who might pass by my office door and catch a glimpse. My teeth grit, my lips mouthed lyrics, I was on. I was on like… well my rhyming isn’t as good as my man Kevin Abstract yet. I don’t know him, but you know, I felt as if I did after the experience I had. I mean seriously, when the song suddenly shifted from its intensity and the beats to it’s mellow yet soulful conclusion, I lost it. Now all I want to do is blue myself, jump outta my seat, and bump Brockhampton to the rest of the Warren.