The Power of Prince

The downside of sitting a car is that everyone who normally forgets your number now wants a ride, even if it's a Yellow Volkswagen Bug with a plastic flower on the dashboard. But there are some folks who I'm more than willing to help out. It was because of me that Ifaniyi got to have a cinematic goodbye at the airport moment with the lady in his life. And it was just the same when my godsister Stephie hit me up and asked me to get her sister from the airport.

Just so you know, I hate getting people from the airport, particularly in New York. It's a lot more casual at Hartsfield and National, so much more peaceful at Midway or Dulles. And when I was told I'd have to park it nearly broke me. I, as usual, forgot just how good God could be. Before I even feed the meter Stephie's sister June is right there, big Chanel shades over her eyes, two huge and her two huge suitcases. But with a quick loop around the lot I've got her and the Ipod's on. First it's Darien Brockington's "I Need You".

But in less than three minutes were on to the greener pasture of Prince Rogers Nelson. "17 Days" comes on and two strangers are singing along together. I flip the playlists and it's on to "Pink Cashmere", then "Why Don't You Call Me Anymore". All the while I'm zipping through traffic like I'm the only one on the road, the rest of my mind cooking up yet another plan for world domination. I'm rolling into the next chapter of Nightshift.

I'm making a budget for what I need to become my own self-contained street team and to keep my site up for good once it posts. I compose a poem in my head for a certain purpose and make notes for what I hope will be a series of upcoming performances and mixtapes that I'll be doing with a certain turntablist. I'm thinking about the dream I head early this morning that told me clear as day that my moments of weakness were a pathetic attempt to try and dodge the choice that I have to make. My chances of moving out of here are decreasing faster than the value of the US dollar. And that's a good thing...I think.

In a world without timing there a certain things I wish that I could do right now. I would be having wine and tapas in Barcelona or swilling sake in Tokyo. I would write a narration track for filmed footage of a boot dance in Johannesburg. I would grill lobsters on the grainy shores of Seychelles or overlook the world beneath Mt. Kilimanjaro. Instead I'm doing all of those things in my mind while sitting here in boxers and my Foo Fighters t-shirt, marveling at just how much I like the new Death Cab for Cutie and how I wish certain things in my life weren't so darn complicated.

But as I was there at the keyboard just past two this morning, chronicling words between my female protagonist and her former co-worker, nothing else mattered. The roads behind and ahead disappeared. I was happy living in those moments of the present, more focused then the tall man from Marcy. And that, I must say, was pretty darn cool. Out.