Wednesday, September 12, 2018

Bar Jokes


*Bar Jokes*

Two guys talking in a bar:

Guy 1: So just like that, you left her huh?
Guy 2: Yup.
Guy 1: God damn man, that’s bold.
Guy 2: I don’t know, I guess I think she deserves someone better. Someone who knows what they’re doing, or at least someone who knows who they are.

They sit in silence for a moment

Guy 1: And you think there’s someone out there who really knows that much?
Guy 2: I don’t know, I guess so... there must be, right?
Guy 1: Not really.
Guy 2: No, there HAS to be. Even if that’s a lie, I gotta keep telling myself that.
Guy 1: Why?
Guy 2: Because that’s the only way I can feel comfortable. I don’t want to be the best she ever had. That’s a terrifying thought to have.
Guy 1: You don’t wanna be the best?
Guy 2: No. Because I want the best for her, and leaving the way I did, I know she’d never want me back, but I want the best for her, but if I’m the best, she’ll never have it, and I can’t live with that.

There is more silence

Guy 2: I’d rather live a flimsy lie, than a harsh truth.
Guy 1: Well, that’s fucking retarded.

END


P.E.N.T.C.I.

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Country Roads


Country Roads
By: Rodolfo Perez

I’m learning to die,
Living to consume,
And learning to lie.
I don’t understand very much,
Like why she would give me that “lOOk”
Or why I became too afraid to touch.

I fell asleep in Mexico,
I woke up in reality,
I keep telling myself to let go,
As if my life is built on duality.

I do terrible things to remind myself how good life can be,
But I lose myself in the process.
Now I just face the crowds with a smile and glee,
Falling deeper and feeling less free.
I keep telling myself “this is what it means to feel!”
But I question whether life is worth feeling for.
It’s the pain of silent dread, but at least it’s real,
Rather this than the roar of unauthenticity.

“Hello? Anyone there?”


P.E.N.T.C.I.

Wednesday, August 8, 2018

KAZECKI


* It is difficult to put the emotions I’m feeling right now into words. With the following series, I want to express how the recent events have really left me conflicted, confused, and saddened.*
*With that said, I am NOT defending the actions of Michael Kazecki. To put your hands on someone is bad enough, but to put your hands on someone you love, there is no defense for that.*
*Although I do not defend Kazecki’s actions, I do not believe he is the psychopathic monster everyone believes should burn on a cross. He should face legal justice, yes, but we should not turn him into something he was not for the majority of his life*
*This is NOT a defense piece*



I’ve always found writing to be a therapeutic thing for me. Time and tragedy again, those of us who write, and, more importantly, write for the people, pick up our pens and paper, in an attempt to express what needs to be said, and what needs to be read. However, every so often we hear of something that is so surreal, so unimaginable, that it is difficult to express the emotions of those who bear witness to such events. I was met with this conflict on the night of August 7th. I had just come home from a movie, ready to begin editing a draft for an upcoming post when I saw my phone was flooded with messages and missed calls. I replayed some of the voicemails, and was shocked at what I heard.

“Did you hear about Kazecki??”
“He fucking killed his wife.”
“What a psycho!”
“What is wrong with him!!?”
“He’s a monster”
           
            My initial reaction was disgust. I was angry. I was angry at Michael. How could a man do something like this? Why would a man like him do anything like this? Before continuing, I believe now would be a good time to explain my association with Kazecki.
            Following the death of a teacher during the summer between my seventh and eighth grade year, we were informed we would be receiving a new instructor for language arts and social studies. I’ll admit, upon first glance, I was not very impressed. He seemed too laid back, too casual. At the time, I was an eighth grade kid who was too full of himself to think he “deserved” something less. That all changed within the first month of being in his class. He was eccentric, and he had the tendency to become passionate very quickly, but it was always over something I couldn’t appreciate until recently in my life. When he was not teaching, I remember he spoke of his fondness for classic literature and film, and his distaste for big corporations. Perhaps he was just playing devil’s advocate, going against what we deemed “cool” for the sake of capturing the interest of those unique few who would become intrigued by such things. He also spoke of his son, Roman, and how he was trying to put him through little league football (soccer) and how frustrated he would become whenever he would make a mistake on the field. The comments were made in jest meant to keep his classes intrigued. I even remember his unconventional way of approaching famous works of literature by putting the works into a more contemporary style.
            He coached our school’s academic bowl team, making sure we worked hard day in and day out, while showing us that being intelligent or a “nerd” is nothing to hate about yourself. It isn’t anything to beat yourself up over. He taught me to embrace the gifts and burdens I was given, even if it meant giving up on trying to fit in.
            The most memorable thing about him, however, was the manner to which he treated me. I knew he was someone who had very high expectations for his students and his children, but it’s as if he knew of my potential, and he would tell me he knew that me and my siblings would go on to do great things. I always gained a great deal of confidence whenever he would begin talking about college. “When you get into college”. Not if, when. With the exception of a handful of instructors in the past, no teacher before him ever used the term when, and that meant something to me. It’s one thing to have a family to support what you do, it’s another to have a outsider, someone who doesn’t know you personally, know your potential, and support you in that way. As idiotic as I was in those days, he still held those expectations for me, and I cannot hate the man for that.
            To conclude this misguided rant, I will say the following: Prior to his action of killing his wife, I knew Michael Kazecki as Mr. Kazecki, Coach Kazecki, and Mr. K. I enjoyed his class so much. He made my last year of middle school something memorable that even today, when I see an old classmate, or speak with my sister about the old days, we can look back at the good times, and see him. I suppose that’s what makes this so conflicting for me, so surreal, and so depressing. I got to know the man as someone I could confide in. He was someone who believed in me. He was someone who has gone down in my memory, and has impacted my life in a positive way, despite this terrible tragedy.
            I do not pray often, and when I do, I never know what to say, but I know with certainty that I will say something tonight, for his wife, for his children, and for his conscious.

Thank you.
Rodolfo Perez

P.E.N.T.C.I.

Thursday, July 19, 2018

Those Damn Teens (NEW CONCEPT)


Before you read, I want everyone to recognize that the following piece is not meant to offend anyone in any way. This piece is purely a product of my imagination, and is not intended to be an attack on anyone’s beliefs.

JESUS: THE REBEL (Part One)
            
            I hate goats. Even though I’m a 12 year old, I don’t see the appeal of tending to a flock. You wouldn’t believe how much I hate goats. Like, I get it, they give you milk, and I gotta admit, I’m a sucker for some lamb chops, but Me oh my, do they have to eat everything their mouth comes in contact with?? Take this morning right? I wake up, and mom tells me to go tend to the goats, pretty normal morning right? I go out there, when I see one of them chewing on my NEW TUNIC. My mom just made me the new threads a few days ago, now it has a big hole in the rib. I’m gonna look like a literal poor boy now, stupid thing! I can’t wait for Passover so we can sacrifice the goat. I think we named him Isaac or something I can’t remember. I know it’s like every boy’s dream to be a sheepherder, but I don’t know, I’m thinking something where I use my hands more. Yeah, like a fisherman or something…

Friday, July 6, 2018

UPDATE #25


Hello everyone and welcome to another edition of Me Talking! I want to take time to apologize for my absence over the past few weeks. I have been travelling a lot over the past month, trying to experience as much as I can with the people (post on that to come later). It’s now time for me to start preparing for the upcoming semester, as I only have about a month left before its back to college to begin some pre-semester work. Oh yeah, I came back home to some very exciting news for this blog. Me Talking has received its first partnership deal! I cannot tell you how excited I am for this opportunity, and the best part is, it’s with an app I trust and use already! The app is called Aaptiv Fitness, and it’s unlike any other fitness app I’ve used before. As hard-working students, I am sure we all know that making time for yourself can be a challenge, but that seems to be something people tell us is important time and time again. Finding simple, quick, and enjoyable ways to get active while strengthening your body can be a difficult thing to find in a world that wants us to specialize so quickly….until today.

That’s where Aaptiv comes in.

Not only do they offer tons of traditional workouts (each pairing the perfect playlist with the guidance of a trainer which is awesome), they each offer unique trainers for particular workouts to match your intensity. The best thing about the app in my opinion is that it is an audio app, meaning you don’t have to spend precious time looking at a screen for your next instruction, you simply put in some earbuds and go!
            I personally love using this app. I feel as if I have a personal trainer right beside me telling me what to do, and pushing me further and further. I highly recommend this app, and by using the link provided below to sign up, you’re helping the blog out while helping yourself. It’s a win-win scenario.

But wait…. there is this one last thing.

            Did I mention if you sign up using the Me Talking link, you get your first 30 days FREE?? I don’t know about you guys, but this is one hell of a deal. I’m very excited for this opportunity, and it couldn’t be done without you all. I love you all, and here’s to the next one!

LINK TO SIGN UP: Hello everyone and welcome to another edition of Me Talking! I want to take time to apologize for my absence over the past few weeks. I have been travelling a lot over the past month, trying to experience as much as I can with the people (post on that to come later). It’s now time for me to start preparing for the upcoming semester, as I only have about a month left before its back to college to begin some pre-semester work. Oh yeah, I came back home to some very exciting news for this blog. Me Talking has received its first partnership deal! I cannot tell you how excited I am for this opportunity, and the best part is, it’s with an app I trust and use already! The app is called Aaptiv Fitness, and it’s unlike any other fitness app I’ve used before. As hard-working students, I am sure we all know that making time for yourself can be a challenge, but that seems to be something people tell us is important time and time again. Finding simple, quick, and enjoyable ways to get active while strengthening your body can be a difficult thing to find in a world that wants us to specialize so quickly….until today. That’s where Aaptiv comes in. Not only do they offer tons of traditional workouts (each pairing the perfect playlist with the guidance of a trainer which is awesome), they each offer unique trainers for particular workouts to match your intensity. The best thing about the app in my opinion is that it is an audio app, meaning you don’t have to spend precious time looking at a screen for your next instruction, you simply put in some earbuds and go! I personally love using this app. I feel as if I have a personal trainer right beside me telling me what to do, and pushing me further and further. I highly recommend this app, and by using the link provided below to sign up, you’re helping the blog out while helping yourself. It’s a win-win scenario. But wait…. there is this one last thing. Did I mention if you sign up using the Me Talking link, you get your first 30 days FREE?? I don’t know about you guys, but this is one hell of a deal. I’m very excited for this opportunity, and it couldn’t be done without you all. I love you all, and here’s to the next one!

 LINK TO SIGN UP:

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Know Thyself (Part 2)

*Disclaimer: The next few posts that start with the title “Know Thyself” will make the reader think the author is depressed or cynical, but that is not the case. Upon examination, the author was found not to be depressed, but rather, just an idiot. The following posts of the same title are excerpts from the essay: “Life: The Uncertain Certainty or (Living without Knowing Myself)”. Enjoy.


-Rodolfo Perez (The fucking author)

As a young boy growing up on a not so nice part of Joliet Illinois, I had a much-skewed representation of love, especially in regards to the events that would transpire within my community. I remember it being a cold October night, just a few days before Halloween. I was eight years old. I was outside in my backyard, sitting down on the patio steps with no particular task. No one was home, as my parents often had to work well into the evening during those days of financial struggle, and my siblings were at a school Halloween celebration. It did not take long before that familiar feeling of loneliness began to wash over me. I mistook this feeling of dread and loneliness for the physical response to the cold October air. I sat out there, looking to the sky, when I heard a crash coming from my neighbor’s house. I heard one voice, screaming obscenities, and another, barking insults back at the voice. Their front door swung open, and the loud creak of the door fringes seemingly forced me to look down in front of me. My neighbor, let us call him Raul, came walking out rather briskly, followed by his wife, we will call her Pamela. She was screaming at him something among the lines of “Go Ahead! Go drink with your friends! It’s not like you have a family to take care of!” He swore a few more times at her and got into his car, and drove away. Now, Raul and Pamela, until this moment, seemed like quite a happy couple. They were married, they had two children, both of which excelled in school, and they both had jobs that provided them with some type of livable income. I had seen my parents argue before, but neither of them ever left the house, much less over a night out with their friends. I had seen my fair share of arguments, fights, and even a killing in one case, but something about this scene shook me, and a question came to me. What is love? Now, as a child, the question seemed to have such a simple answer, but to this day, I still go back to that moment. Seeing Pamela so angry with the man she had been married with for well over a decade, and seeing her sobbing on her porch steps as he drove away, I will never get that out of my mind. Religion tells me to love everyone, even those I do not want to love, and many schools of thought teach to love people unconditionally, but I argue that by doing that, we are dulling the intensity an emotion like love brings. Love is something precious, something that is limited in a sense. If one is to love everyone unconditionally, how are we supposed to distinguish whether or not we have any authenticity in regards to caring about an individual? I often think, in regards to this question, if I love everyone equally and unconditionally, how am I supposed to choose someone to marry, or show my family how much they mean to me, or make sure I am not leaving an individual out of my love? Because of this question, I have been accused of not showing I care, or that I do not show I care more about certain things over others. I suppose at one point I convinced myself that I had a mindset much like Walt Whitman had during the time in which he would make his rounds around the army hospitals. I told myself that, like Whitman, I thought, “That could be me” and because of this, I would try my best to appeal to everyone else’s needs. Now I see that cannot be the case, for even in providing all I can for the people around me, I still have this aching sense of alienation from human emotion, and that often leads to loneliness. As I reflect on the deeds I do for people, whether they be big or small, I question whether I am doing it out of love, or simply for the sake of doing it. I do not give money to the homeless man because I love him; I just do it for the sake of doing it. I do not lend a hand for someone who has fallen (in a figurative or literal sense) because I love him or her; I lend a hand because I have a hand to lend.

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Beaten Soliders


Beaten Soliders
By: Rodolfo Perez

We are soldiers in the war against the enemy of time.
We live in the moments of the day to day,
Yet make every attempt to rebel against the forces which dictate our past, present,
And future.
Like waves of the ocean that never end,
We are forever tossed about,
Breaking against the coast of reality.
But we rise up,
Upon a new dawn,
And go against the currents,
Hoping, wishing, and forever desiring,
That one day the waves will stop coming.

Friday, May 18, 2018

Nothing to do with You, Everything to do with Me


*Read bracketed text for longer version*

[Before I begin, I want to thank a few people. I want to thank first and foremost, those of you reading this. Without your support for this project, I do not believe I would be able to have the opportunity to gain a, although small, meaningful influence on not just the internet, but the city I currently live in. I cannot say how grateful I am for every reader, new and old, I come across or hear from. Along with the readers, I would not be able to continue this project without the help of some very talented contributors and people who overall give good insight into projects I take up, as well as interests I pursue during my time in college. I want to thank contributors Andrew Gabl, Jessica Cherrington, Christopher Ocean, Giselle Magana, and many more. Beyond those who have contributed to Me Talking, I have to thank those who have offered me their time and have given me the experiences that have reflected on my work so far. People like Eric Ruiz, Mollie Rockafellow, Johnathan Marquardt, Ysandra Ortiz, David Masciotra, as well as my family, have all given me a new perspective on things, and have helped me polish my ideas as well as my passions in the arts as well as science. Thank you all so much.]
In the span of about six months, I have experienced a lot. Over the course of six months, I have gone from an uninspired college kid with a very hedonistic view on life, to an emerging school leader, an “award winning” radio show co-host, as well as a student looking to not only excel in my major, but to excel and make a mark on other areas of life outside the one I am looking to get into. I like to believe I have started to grow out of such an immature outlook I had in years past, as I look not to the pleasures of life, but I look to the moments of misunderstanding, and the moments of suffering for a sense of living. Over the past six months, I have lost a lot of people. Whether it be through death, breakup, or moving away, I have lost some of the most interesting, influential, beautiful people I have ever had the opportunity to know and care about, even if it were for just a moment. A lot of the time throughout these past six months, I have really began to analyze the emotions I carry within myself, and I have found that the more I reflect on why I feel the way I do towards certain people or specific ideas, the more I realize I have not truly ever “felt” anything. [I used to say I hated things for just being the way they are, but I now think I have never hated anything or anyone, nor do I hate anyone currently. I believe I have loved and have been loved in my past, but I question what love really is. I think there are spots of time in my life where I think I was happy, or angry, or sad, or tired, or content, or comfortable, or even uncomfortable, but upon reflection, I find I have not felt any of those things over these past six months.] I feel as though I am floating above myself, and that I am just spectating myself doing these things. Although one could say I am making a name for myself, at least locally or at college, there is an emptiness that hides behind these “accomplishments”. I usually am the one who has the right thing to say, and the right way to create a resolution to many people’s problems, but I find that in all honesty, I am quite uncertain on my approach to the life I have been experiencing over the past six months. I find that no amount of distraction or work will hide the fact that at the moment, I am struggling and suffering to discover who I am, and I am confused and questioning the foundation I have based my entire life upon. I have always been taught to care, and to help those who have less than I do, and I still try my best to do “the greater good” for people, but I find that while I have not ceased to do “the greater good” I do not feel anything towards these things I do or the people I “help”.
            After speaking to several different people, I believe it would be in the best interests of my emotional state as well as my creative state to go away for a while, do some travelling, and sort myself out. I need to discover the source of my problems, and try to find a way out of the “spectator” feeling I have had over the past six months. It is either finding a way out of this lull, or learn to embrace it. This has nothing to do with any of you, and it has everything to do with me. I will continue to post regularly, and I will be back.

Thank you.
-Rodolfo Perez

Sunday, May 13, 2018

Know Thyself (Part 1)


*Disclaimer: The next few posts that start with the title “Know Thyself” will make the reader think the author is depressed or cynical, but that is not the case. Upon examination, the author was found not to be depressed, but rather, just an idiot. The following posts of the same title are excerpts from the essay: “Life: The Uncertain Certainty or (Living without Knowing Myself)”. Enjoy.
-Rodolfo Perez (The fucking author)


In my entire life up to this point, I believe one particular experience will always be etched into my memory. This certain encounter occurred on a Friday night in Guanajuato City in the summer of ‘17. I was 18 years old. My family had taken trips around Mexico before, but this was the first trip I had gone on in a while. It was a chilly night (by Mexico’s standards) and the majority of my family was scattered throughout the vacation home, as well as the shops in the nearby streets around the house that were very much alive in those evenings. I stood on the rooftop terrace, looked over the edge of the grand building, and admired the sights and sounds the city offered to me. I closed my eyes for a moment and let my mind wander. I remember the faint sounds of serenades playing in the streets below, only their sounds muffled by the sound of wind rushing past my ear. I realized that in this moment, I was completely alone. I felt like a ghost, floating above the city. I was watching them, but not a soul could see me. I was listening to the lives occurring below me, but I stayed quiet. To quote Fitzgerald, “I was within, and without”. I felt lonely. In that moment, upon reflection, I started to think about who I really am. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and expected some voice within me to speak and exclaim my role, my persona, my duty in life, something; but nothing came. I heard nothing, I stayed quiet for a while longer, and I waited for my definition. A fairly long period of time must have passed, for my moment of “meditation” was interrupted by my father, who came up to the terrace, telling me to come downstairs. I always thought I had a structured set of emotions in my life. I thought if there was one thing I could depend on, it would be the ability to express things like anger, happiness, hate, despair, sadness, and envy. However, after taking a step back, and viewing the world through the perspective of someone who is within and without, I find that I am lacking in a serious amount of genuine emotion. I am lacking in not just feeling love, but in hate as well. I do not feel sad, but I do not feel happy either. I find that I am in a state of suspension with the world that makes me question who I really am, and whether or I not I really am anyone.

Wednesday, May 9, 2018

UPDATE #24


Hello everyone and welcome to Me Talking. I have been meaning to take some time to update all of you on some events that have transpired since my last update-type of post. For one, this semester of university is finally finished, meaning I am now officially a sophomore. It feels good to finally say I am a sophomore in college. It sounds much better than “I’m a freshman” that’s for sure. Now all I have to do is send the many “Look at me now BITCH” emails to the many people on my list who lost faith in me (so check your inbox!). In all seriousness though, I am rooting for all of you who are taking finals in the coming weeks, and all of you who are awaiting your final report cards to come in. I am planning on doing a couple of projects over the summer which will be up on this website as well as YouTube, so if you are interested, make sure you check those out. I am also working with some local talent in designing some commodities for all who embody certain attributes. I will not speak too much on it, for I don’t want to give anything away. Those are just a few, extremely vague things on the horizon this summer, along with, of course, only the most authentic content the internet has to offer. With that being said, I hope you all enjoy the warm weather, all those who are entering the summer season, and I will be posting soon.
-Rodolfo Perez, Editor

Side note: Apparently I am getting a lot of reads from Russia, which I find to be very interesting. So, if you are from the motherland, cпасибо за то, что вы читаете товарищей!


Wednesday, April 4, 2018

There Are No Cameras Here (UPDATE #23)


Hello everyone and welcome to another edition of Me Talking. I suppose I should start by explaining my absence for the past couple of months. As many of you know by now, I am attending university, and have found myself quite busy with work both inside and outside of my classes. I know this is no excuse, but I am simply explaining my lack of posting. The good news, for me at least, is that I am only a month away from the end of the semester. I mean that literally! May 4th is the last day of the semester, and I will have completed my freshman year. Even thinking about it makes me feel good you know? I know the majority of my problems won’t vanish as quickly as this second semester will, but I’d like to think the few things that distract me from my worries will be the only things I can occupy my time with. I was speaking to one of my peers the other night. We were relaxing after what felt like an eternity of a study break. As we were taking a break, silently taking the time to just be silent and not think about the mountains of material we just spent hours covering, my peer broke the silence between us.
“College is truly the best time, and the worst time.” They said.

“What do you mean?” I questioned.

“I mean, look at us. Here we are, two people who haven’t the slightest clue what’s going to happen tomorrow or the next day, or in the next 20 years, willfully paying thousands of dollars a year just to stress out, and tear our social lives and mental health apart.”

“Well you shouldn’t think that way. Think of it as preparation for the real world.”

My peer did not say anything.


“Like, I embrace the stress school gives me. I don’t like getting up early after staying up the majority of night, only to repeat the same process the next day, but I know that sometimes, that’s what life is about, I guess.”

Now both of us were silent. After about a minute or so, the conversation continued.

“When I’m at work, I think about doing my job for the rest of my life, and I just can’t see myself doing that. I think that’s why I work. It serves as a reminder for the alternative reality I can live if I fuck up in college. It’s almost like I’m in an alternate dimension all together.” I said.

“That’s what scares me a lot of the time. It’s like there is no way out of this. You either work like shit for the rest of your life, constantly worrying about bills because you chose to get a shitty job, or, you come here for four years, tear your hair out, become a communist, and still not have any type of security for the future.”

Upon saying this, my fellow peer took put their phone and began to tap around, checking their social media.

“They can’t take away the knowledge you acquired.” I said.

“I guess not, but it seems like this world cares more about the paper in your wallet, or the paper you acquired at the end of all this, rather than the ‘knowledge’ you speak of.”

“That’s true, but I think I’d rather be unsuccessful with a high level of intelligence rather than some bum with a diploma or a rich man with no education.” I said.

They put their phone away.

“I don’t know Rodolfo, from what I’ve seen, this world gets the best of us instead of us getting the best of the world.” They said.

I looked at my watch. It was a quarter past nine.

“I have to go.”

“Alright, sounds good.” They said.

“I’ll see you around.” I said.

“It’s a small school I’m sure you will.”

We said goodbye. I packed up my books. As I was walking to my car, I could not help but look up at the stars. Somewhere in the deep confines of space, there has to be some race of intelligent life. I wonder if they have the same problems out there, as we do in here. I drove home that night, ate a late supper, and studied some more.



Thursday, February 15, 2018

No One Cares

The Worst Guy
By: Rodolfo Perez

I don’t care.
As a matter of fact, I couldn’t stand to care more.
For what do I have to gain?
Other than plain, vain attempts to find an infinity
In a finite reality.
To find perfection in the imperfect.
To find peace in a war zone,
Destroyed by Love
And misunderstanding.
All this is done just to be understood.
For the fight for peace will continue,
Perfection will be found.
It has to be found
Right?
Above all the complex tactics,
And uncomfortable complications,
Infinity will be found.
I have everything to benefit from giving a shit.
I still care.


P.E.N.T.C.I.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

That 2017 Song Stuck in My Head



That one stuck song, one of abstract notes with melodic undertones. The whisper of certain gravity heard when the silence played within the echoes of its day. They arose. Every day with the sense of a lullaby, walking into a new world that felt secure and alive with rhythm. As days passed, the circles of notes slowed eased its mark under their eyes. The song replayed again and again, slowly turning into a tormented music box that would not fall quiet. 

Its humans strained, listening to the meaning of its whisper. The quickness of the day and the noise of the world made the effort almost impossible. The songs of others became louder and louder, until their own song got drowned within the boom. The notes became jumbled and the boom of the bass soon kept them up. The drum of their hearts became softer and the rhythm of the breath became weaker.

The songs stuck in their heads were silenced. The song of life became jumbled. There was too much too listen to and yet there was nothing at all. Confusion was the new director of its master work. Truth was its ailing assistance, slowly trying to build strength. Rearrangement of cognition and emotions were the innovators of change, slowly stepping into place. Slowly allowing new music to come along. The listeners learned, understanding the old song of confusion were truly tangled trails of clarity. With that once said, the song stuck in their heads began taking new rhythm.
The music continued.