Hip-Hop

I am not unique.

Her hands are busy sorting through used copies of local hip-hop CDs on the shelf that is just a little bit too high for her to comfortably reach. My eyes are busy studying her every movement, as I try to come up with a rough estimate as to how old she may be. Her nametag says “Kathy,” which is a relatively off putting name.

I’m not sure why I am disgusted by the name, perhaps it reminds me of too many old women I’ve previously known by that name. “Old,” is a relative term, of course. “Kathy” is a woman that’s been a smoker for far too many years, been romantically involved with just a few too many older men in tribute bands. Probably has a few fully grown kids, and definitely divorced.

This Kathy is different, of course. She seems to be somewhere between 20 and 24 years of age, and she is definitely in college. We are in a college town, and this is a music store, after all. She looks like a woman of great intelligence, and I find myself wondering what music she generally enjoys listening to. She has a black “My Chemical Romance” t-shirt on, and her pants are very tight. She doesn’t look like she actually still listens to My Chemical Romance, and the shirt is extremely faded. It reminds me of the old band shirts that I have laying around in my own dresser, and how few of them actually reflect my current taste in music.

These are the thoughts that plague me in my day to day life, as I wander from place to place. I’m a very observational man, and my memory is exquisite. I have a mental catalog of every girl I’ve ever observed stored in deep folds of memory. A scrapbook, if you will, of fictional conversations about life, love, music, and movies with real life women I truly know nothing about. Thousands of faces, and thousands more assumptions, generalizations, and objectifications.

It is a comfortable way to make friends, this habit I’ve developed. These women can be exactly as I want them to be. I can view them as fondly or as poorly as I desire. I’ve met so many gorgeous, interesting women, and not one of them even knows my name. Hell, they probably haven’t even seen my face. I am a hedonistic introvert, and my art is for me. My name is socially anxious, confidence lacking, self-absorbed prick, and my game is more common than you’d like to believe.

Reviews

[Jaydaut]

Once I stopped writing using "is" and "just" my writing improved.