I'm driving in my (shitty) car, watching a train go by. I don't think about where the highway leads or even the lines on the pavement. I think about the marlboro man and the world in general as a Cranberries cover comes on the radio. The train trails shadows and with it- light. Then the road curves, and I curve with it.
I've decided that rap is a dirty, pesky, un-yeilding, convulsive disease. Yes. A disease. A dirty one. You can't just listen to one song to, you know, indulge periodically. IT won't let you. IT stays in your head for weeks... WEEKS! IT's not even the good stuff like The Beastie Boys or MC Hammer... no. Think the chickenhead or hell... the chicken-noodle soup. Blech.
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