Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear you. Leave me alone. Be fucking quiet. You’re invading my peace and it’s rude and I resent it. Don’t cop an attitude, just shut the fuck up. Be calm. Learn the value of silence.
The dream was amazing, inspiring. I was at the bottom of a two story causeway, like in a mall but more like a spaceport. I was yelling and not being heard. Something about passion, lust, and a fruit. I was enticing someone, or trying to.
I was warm and comfortable, wrapped in that summer nap dreaming but still awake state. White light was washing in over my dream, I was fighting to hang on to it, to remain still and at peace. I wanted to remember it, write it.
Then I was imposed upon by that fucking cell phone and really bad pretend R&B crap blaring from the living room TV. Look, real R&B doesn’t just string a bunch of “baby”s together with some “I wanna git wit choo”s together with a voice sliding all around a note and call it music. That shit on the TV is just crap. And R&B doesn’t get blared like annoyingly inane rap by second or third rate rap performers from Stepford pushing junk music like bad heroine to teenagers who don’t know what it means for music to have heart, to have soul. I haven’t had the slightest tickle of inspiration in forever, and YOU ARE WRECKING IT!
Show some fucking empathy. Shut the fuck up. Listen. Be still. See that I am quiet, and stop babbling about stupid people on the cell to other stupid people. You have more sense than that. You are being rude.
Turn off the idiot box, close the cell phone, be still, be calm. Shut up. I don’t want your snotty apology, I want your silence. Turn it all off, unplug, sit down, be still, just shut the fuck up.