Note to reader: What follows is the crusade of a reminiscent moment.
So, fourteen years old, summer school holidays, Mother’s green leather settee, and on it feral lust is losing its virginity to the sound of Freddie Jackson’s: ‘Rock me Tonight, at three o’clock in the afternoon, before which twelve years old won a Mr Supercool contest, back in the celebrated 80’s, after which fifteen years old cooked a valentines dinner for the superficial love of life, and aside from the impassioned improvisatory delivery of the sexual enthusiasms, and the erotic talk, and pumping the PC (pubococcygeus muscle for the novice in you) and scouting the erogenous zones with the art of seduction, with the fondness for Sanskrit literature the efforts wanting to express the passion posey, behind the sex, coincided with the impression that all the above efforts, was in the vain of wanting to fulfil an emptiness, one of which juvenile attention considers needy, and only now manhood learning to identify.
This reminiscent moment, the crusade, that struggle to understand what makes a man like thy - a brotha’ - emotionally tick, emphasising the tone of skin only reaffirms it is about the writer of these confessions, where love, for whatever the passion might be, has proved hard to come by never mind working from a blueprint that helps guide a right, rite of way. Thus, one’s quest to fulfil, which is not apparent by many example one’s youth is able to suck up, and it make their own, aiming for all things magnificent, and promptly paying selective attention to all things dignified, in the pursuit of the sex, and the soul, the in-between acted as the vehicle to get whatever was travelling, there, one of those hybrid means of transportation - good for the environment - and who better than a self-made mouthpiece to sell the majesty of God given things. We’re talking about a novice, who refused to smoke anything but high-grade marijuana, never ploughed a field, never picked a crop, never sold a gram of anything in his young adult life, and yet it had to be high-grade marijuana. Consequently the front knew the smell, knew the texture, the colour, appreciated the chemical high, infused with deep-rooted complexities would give the kind of release that 6-10 hours at a’ time would give. And when make love, on occasions f**k like a common dog on carnivorous heat, and did not care, the attention could stand and marvel at the naked silhouette, and be proud of the lifestyle on £10 at a time, sometimes under Mummy’s roof, and feel motivation had inadvertently f***ed the world and it felt bloody good for a change; that being the deep complexity the juvenile attention is totally oblivious to.
And the older he gets, the more he realises that the above is about thy soul, and what better way to articulate the anguish, and the beauty of thy soul. Needless to say reminisce holds the beauty of sad music dear, when Freddie Jackson was pitching ‘Rock me Tonight’, it was ‘for all time sake’ that made the hook what it was, rock forever was the reaction felt, and make love to this song, and songs like it, to move with its groove and feel the soul deep down in the crevice; of thy soul, is gospel to the feeler, God himself pleads for the listener to believe. And such is the authentic coerce there is no other option, and being the mouthpiece, supposedly God blesses the poor, and the needy, a show of commitment to all things…blessed, the soul explicitly got fondled by Soul, it was heartened by its underlying sentiments, it was shaded by the splendour spawned from its roots, it was handled in a way only equalled by its care, it was everything you wanted thy to feel, and thy wanting to be the band that played the moving melodic lyrical.
The never without the other; the personification of so much more, on the example Confessions bares it weight on, the standard of physical, and emotional illustration has and still has implications, and references, to take note of, testimonials read between the lines, and recited the sex’s release from the now, drug’s that ignored the life-affirming notes, and Soul that sincerely wanted to feel its own soul, recreating the image of something better life’s work, from the time fourteen years old wanted moved to ‘Rock me Tonight’, for all time sake. Sex, the drugs, and the Soul have never been about the latter choices, not when the pickings are always rooted in the gender essence, the seeking remedy for involved labours, and not quite simply the motivation breathing life into rhythm, and blues, breath in. breath out. Thus, all it takes is a park bench, on a sunny Saturday taken aback by first sight, and proceed.
Part 2, to ‘Sex, Drugs, and Soul’, coming soon! Subscribe for dates, more Confessions, and much more.