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...Our half dead souls commuting to work on the subway every day... Fitting, considering I actually walked right past a dead body in my old neighborhood in Crown Heights one morning on my way to work. A woman had fallen from the overpass to her death. No one had found her there yet.
That was actually the day I decided to leave New York(the first time). Or the time when the person I was madly in love with, a.k.a my supposed future husband, threatened to slit my throat, wrap me in a blanket and store my body in the ceiling. Hmm.. yep, that was the weekend all the angels in the world came together at once to rescue me. But that's a very long story... We'll save that for another day. But, what I do know is he's a big part of the reason why I'm where I am today, which is better than yesterday, and I thank him for that... Or the time I stood up on the seats in the subway and yelled back at the man whose barbaric religious babbling was slowly driving the work-worn subway riders' minds into an angry oblivion. Everybody secretly wanted to say something.. so as usual I had to speak our minds for us. This occurrence led me to flee NYC for the second time.... Of course I quickly ran back here once again once I realized it was far too late to leave. After that second time I knew I'd never try to leave again, even if killed me, just like that woman I found in the road that day...
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....And then I had to remember who I was before I became so angry.. before all those wasted years sitting behind some desk pretending to be something other than what I was - the singer, the dancer, the person everyone looked up to. I had to go back deep inside my mind and relive all of the love and happiness I once experienced in the past and tap into that inexplicable tribal force that runs beneath my skin like an electrical current.
....I'm just another speck of dust in the proverbial mountain of dirt, just another starving artist trying to pave their way, just another musician trying to desperately gain the recognition of those who matter, steadily wrapped up in this fuc*** up hopeless oblivion we call the music industry. I'm just like everybody else.... Or am I? ... |
AuthorAmunet Shah Archives
February 2019
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