the folded down corner

I am not sleeping, so something must be wrong. (I am nothing if not a champion sleeper. Planes, cars, libraries, couches, the ground. I love sleeping and am very protective of at least 8 hours every night.)

It is maybe, about a boy. (You can call him a man, a voice says. Calling him a boy does nothing to diminish the man-sized hurt that you are feeling.) I have maybe cried over this boy. But maybe not. His name is not the one that falls out of my mouth when I least expect it. This other name, I exhale it when I am by myself. Is my body shedding itself of him? Or is it trying to remind me of him. and Why is this name, and not that one.

There is power, maybe. That this boy does not occupy my silences. That I do not feel the need to address him directly. There is only one you, and he is not that.

You. You have left a bookmark in my heart. You are the folded page of a library book. When I come across you I smooth you out and wonder how you came to be and then I turn the page and you are gone.

But your name slips out of my mouth, still. A phenomenon that I have never experienced and I have loved and lost and loved again. (To break the reverie, it happens in the car, when I am driving. It happens at my desk while I am working. It happens while I am doing the dishes. Sometimes there are people around and I look up after it happens, and I wait for someone to ask, what did you say? and I will have to answer, nothing. In these moments my breath has a life of its own and forms itself as your name in my exhalations.) I have been heartbroken and I have broken hearts and this is the only time a name has appeared again and again and again.

It must be that:

You are trapped in my chest and are trying to get out.

Or, you have made a home in my body and I am trying to be rid of you.

Or, you are gone, and I want to remember you.

Or, I am alone and I am thankful, it is still only you. You are the only one to have left me, no one else.

(Or, am I telling myself this, to diminish the pain.)

But even in your absence, you leave me with words, and thank you, thank you, for that.

music as catharsis

Right after I wrote this post I started listening to a lot of mainstream hip hop. My friend mark calls it "ignorant rap", as in "I'm sorry I listen to a lot of ignorant rap." But it is so good. The misogyny, the rampant drug use and relentless posturing. It is all so good.

I then started telling people that I've been listening to a lot of misogynist hip hop, and they say, "why?" as in, "You identify as a feminist, why do you listen to music that advocates for the objectification of women?" And I thought about it, and I think it's the catharsis.

I wrote a little bit about it, in different words here, when I mentioned that when I was pregnant I listened to T.I.'s Whatever you like just about non-stop. Because it was just this out of body experience--that in those moments I'm not pregnant rachael, I'm just in the song. And then now I'm not stressed out, insecure rachael, I'm Wiz Khalifa smoking joints and getting my dick sucked. (Oh pops you can stop reading now and also you don't have to listen to any of this music because I don't think you will like it.)

Or in the club, high on perp (wtf is perp?) with some shades on, tatted up, miniskirt, with my J's on.

And then sometimes there's just a song that just perfectly describes a feeling. Which is the definition of art, right? And the role of an artist? To express universal feelings in a new way for people to experience? Which Big Sean does incredibly well in the following song. (What a effin' brat though, right?) 

Or it's just a few lines, the hook, the beat. I'm just livin' life. And let my momma tell it n----, I ain't livin' right. 

I asked mark what they were saying in that last song the first time I heard it, and he says, "I ain't got no type," and the song keeps playing, and then he says, "Excuse me, 'I own't got no type.'" 

heh. ok. so that's what I've been listening to for the past week or so. I know there is a plethora of non-ignorant rap, but man. This just fills a niche in my life like nothing else. 

play on playaaaah.