And not all of my friends dance hip hop.
“I wanna sing.” I never say no.
“I dance around the house.” Do you dance in the house for fun? Do you play with toys? Do you do a lot of homework? Do you watch TV? You might say my brain is a little on edge. I will tell a story later.
“I’m doing this,” I said.
“Why?” He asked.
“I’m not really.”
Well, I was very into music and had a lot of friends!
“I don’t know,” he said. “Have you played this song a lot?”
“No.” I did not. He wanted to know. And he wanted to know. And he wanted to know.
“I can show you.” He looked at the table.
“I can put this box on me,” he said.
I played guitar. But it was not hip hop music.
I thought it was. I thought the music I played was hip hop. I was a good musician, but I thought it was a hip hop song.
“This is hip hop.” I didn’t believe my ears. I tried it, and it did not sound as hip hop as I had imagined.
“Okay, you want to watch?”
He walked me to the refrigerator, and on one of the shelves, on a shelf a large bottle of whiskey sat.
“Here.” He placed the bottle on the table where I could see it. I drank it.
“What is this?” I asked.
“This,” he said, “is whiskey.”
I couldn’t understand what he meant by it, but suddenly, I understood myself. I knew what it was.
“So, why would I say it is hip hop?”
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.”
“This,” he said, “is whisky.”
It was bourbon. That’s what I liked.
That evening, I found a book for sale at a library, titled “Shake Up Your Life.” And I thought, ‘I like that book.’ And I kept buying it.
“Why?” I said.
“Because it helps, you know.”
A young man who looked like
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