How Wow Wow Wow Appropriate
More Than Music: Medicine
Long dark hair whipped wildly as she, clad in black skinny jeans and an oversized off-white tee shirt, stomped angrily, thrashing her head, screaming into a microphone I’m sure she didn’t need.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Mesmerized. Hypnotized. Entranced.
I don’t even like music. I especially don’t like loud music. And I especially, especially, don’t like loud, chaotic music. And I definitely don’t like screeching voices.
But I did not cover my ears. I leaned into the sounds vibrating in my soul.
I was in Celso’s living room watching him pour shots of 151 rum with frozen root beer next to a loaded bowl that sat beside loose leaves, ground flowers, and zig-zag papers on the upside-down lid from a tin of what once held butter cookies, while music videos played on his big screen tv.
I had just come in the door and hadn’t even taken my bra off when I caught the vision and heard the words:
“Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity? I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner. But it was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced, and are you thinking of me when you fuck her?”
What did she just say?
