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Friday, Jul. 12, 2002 / 11:39 a.m. ~Music That Takes Me to NYC~ Would Digable Planets mind that I like their music? Am I too white? Are they too black? Their liner notes are awfully militant. Regardless, I don�t care. �Blowout Comb� is one of my all-time favorite albums. What is it? Mmmm� let�s see, I�d say Jazz Hip Hop. Acid Jazz? Is that accurate? Branford? Is that right? Of course I love James Brown. Marvin Gaye. Aretha Franklin. Yeah, I like Old School too. Is this okay? I remember every time I�ve mentioned my musical tastes here at work I�ve gotten wide eyed stares, gasps even. People agog. Frozen in disbelief. Do you know how many Miles Davis albums I have? What about Coltrane? Muddy Waters? But Digable Planets� �Blowout Comb��s liner notes are all about black power. Makes me feel like an outsider. If I just listen to the music, well, it�s all about the music, the way it makes me feel, but if I start to think about the politics� I�m the enemy. I�m the oppressor. This is not music for me. These lyrics are for someone else, very specifically not for me. I feel almost guilty. Almost. I put this album in my Walkman for the ride back from D.C. after the last protest. I lay across my two seats on the bus and fell asleep on the second or third song. It�s perfect music. Not just for sleeping, but it�s very relaxing, the groove they sink into. So we can say I appreciate �Blowout Comb� for the music, not so much the black power message. And that�s okay, right? There�s a woman here who surrounds herself with a toxic cloud of artificial odor. I don�t know what it is, perfume? Cologne? Deodorant/Anti-Perspirant? It�s horrible. I�ve smelled it since she started working here as a temp last January. She used to sit closer, and I would catch a whiff, ask, �Who�s wearing perfume? What is that smell?�, and I�d turn on my fan. Now I know exactly who it is, where it comes from, and when she passes me I nearly gag. It�s such a toxic smell, not pleasant at all, not flowery, it�s bitter, can an odor be bitter? First thing this morning I was thinking about dinner. What�s for dinner? Then I came here, to work, sat in the cube, and I wanted to go out tonight, I wanted to invite people to go have Thai intown. Or sushi. I have a Webshots image on my desktop today, a photo of a Japanese Bento Box, and it makes me want Asian food. Southeast Asian. I want Thai or Vietnamese, or Japanese, I want tofu, rice, sake or Thai beer. But it�s only 9:53 a.m. as I write this. I feel good in my clothes today. Casual Day. Levi�s 501s. One of my favorite shirts, black, short sleeves, collar, a certain percentage of Spandex, or something, it�s this weird stretchy cottony fabric, from Old Navy years ago. Very retro, very cool, my tattoos show on my arms, my hair is clean and still wet. I want to be anywhere but stuck here. The temperature dropped dramatically overnight. It must be in the 60s outside. I was actually chilly on my way here. The sky is gray and low. Not heavy and oppressive, not the blanket that was yesterday, it�s nice now, like September, like when the heat breaks and you know Autumn is close. �Groove Food�, she sings. �We do it in the park� , they sing together. �Jettin�� �We live in Brooklyn, Brooklyn�� If I turn my back, turn up the volume, I�m not even here. I�m walking the sidewalks, the streets intown. I�m in a city. This is New York City music. Maybe I�m in a subway station, or walking up stairs to the street, but I can�t hear the traffic because I�m wearing headphones. I can smell it though. NYC has all those smells. The urine, the garbage, the food, the people, sweat, car exhaust, concrete, asphalt. I have work to do. Cost of the War in Iraq
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