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I'm sippin' on you like some fine wine though
My bad date asked me about the "mindless and stupid" things I do in my spare time and gave examples like watching Friends or bad movies. I told him that I rarely go out of my way to watch "bad" things and that it was hard to recall the last time I even tried. He seemed disappointed with the answer, and what I didn't tell him was that I do stupid things all the time, but I suppose he didn't ask the right question. For instance, right before I saw him walk up to me for the first time, I was standing outside looping "679" and searching for the meaning of the universe in the song. When Fetty goes, "I'm like, yeah, she's fine / Wonder when she'll be mine," I know in the deepest crevices of my heart that what I feel about you is realer than real, and when he continues, "She walk past, I press rewind / To see that ass one more time," I am convinced that he and I are pursuing the loves of our lives in parallel universes. I was in a bar recently when the song came on, and a stranger and I drunkenly sang and danced to it together like we were partners in a doubles figure skating routine. I did a 360° spin dance move at one point and on my way home, the only way to shift my focus from feeling embarrassed over having done this in public was to think about how you spin around me like a dream. In the music video version of our love story set to "679," we are rap-singing and sitting on the hood of a car. The dancing neighborhood kids open up the fire hydrant next to us and the cop who was about to ticket us for parking there shrugs and joins in on the dancing. In the movie adaptation of our love story, my character makes her first appearance about twelve minutes in. I am rolling into a party in K-Town with my headphones still on. My glasses are foggy from the heat in the room and everybody is screaming and running toward me but I cannot hear a thing because the FFVII main theme is playing way too loud. You are somewhere in the back by the beer engrossed in a conversation about Pan's Labyrinth and I don't meet you that night anyway. In the scene where we make love for the first time, you are hot like fire and there are hands and chafing and stiff denim. I call it "making love" and you briefly consider calling the whole thing off. Six months later, we are together at the wine store and I am wearing a backpack with a leek and baguette sticking out, knocking over bottles of Mount Gay Rum and you are holding your breath wondering if any of the bottles broke (they didn't). We get drunk at a dinner party later that night and fall asleep on the couch upon getting home. --- Note #1: I really do love this song. The best part of the song (in my opinion!) is the part where Monty starts his verse with, "Yeah, Monty / Tell me what you see / Is it money or it's me?" and I always stop what I'm doing to savor this part. As far as verse preference goes, I would say Monty > Fetty > P-Dice, but that's just me. Aside from the content itself, the beauty of the song lies in the half-singsong way of delivery. How exquisite it must be to sing with all your heart and not care about how it sounds. How beautiful it is to let the words roll right out of you, so tender so vulnerable, so utterly real as the kind of love he sings about is. It's the new ass-thetic, revolutionary like the New Aesthetic, if not all the more so. Note #2. Same bad date pushed into me a little too hard at one point and I probably looked annoyed, so he asked me if I "liked horseplay." I hated him for saying this so much that I feigned ignorance and asked him if that was a genre of pornography because I wasn't familiar with the term. Instead of listening for an explanation, I stared ahead and played "400 Lux" in my head. I had heard "400 Lux" for the first time in a Calvin Klein store recently and loved it because I felt the memory of you rattling in my bones as I listened for the words. That weekend was everything to me and I'd like it if I stayed. And I like you, and I like you, and I like you...
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