the strange man and i yesterday combed a neighborhood music store for the new alicia keys unplugged album. we ended up sort of arguing-our first-over which album of the mc nas was the most definitive.
illmatic (1994)it is, i claimed. he called it wack the idea of mantling this word onto a work of yet an evolving artist. smarting badly at some point in our argument, i said, "just because i'm not from the street doesn't mean i don't know shit 'bout it." he bristled back, "just because i'm from the ghetto doesn't mean my ass is all ghetto."
we ended up buying nothing. we didn't really talk about it but we just felt like walking the long twelve blocks from the store all the way back to his apartment.
approaching his building, i saw birds, all black under the falling light, larking at the roof's overhang. at various points, some of them left and some of them came. they looked so gratified at their indistinctness.
the elevator was decommissioned, again. we took the less crowded stairwell at the back end of the building. twin shadows swaggered ahead of us. under the sickly yellow lights, it's hard to tell mine from his.
