The Music Lovers

The Man with Gusto wipes a clean stream of white sauce from his lips with a napkin, eyes lurching up at one moment. His eyes coolly reach out past the windows, past the clear gauze reflections into a dart of colour bouncing through smears of blue brown and grey town strip…
…he knew he could capture her in a moment with a wave of his hand, a slight gesture of the wrist. Still, he knew that this one would elude him to no end, even if she was there.

She is eluding him in the most downright satisfying manner- she’s got the headphones on to the loudest point, trucking down and passing it by. Some just cant get it- they don’t shove music into their ears all the time, they don’t see the point in it. Besides, if everyone was intended to have that all the time, then it should be issued that way or put on paper someplace to make it… the music lovers should suffer like everyone else and be restricted to the appreciation of music in the privacy of your own home.

IN THE PRIVACY OF YOUR OWN HOME- as if music was some erotic taboo issue we cant let our friends and co-workers know. OH SNAP! They’re listening to Michael Jackson! That’s so wrong! Marvin Gaye and your collection of dance house classics, 80’s synth-pop, folk, dirty DnB is suddenly pandered and feels like pornography. Music is restricted almost as to be regarded as an “at home” activity because of the basic human appreciation for it. The perfect drug, the ultimate satisfier, the ultimate crave.
Even the industry is shady at best- a lesser, but visible demon, able to make, break, and take souls.

The Music Lovers, the music junkies, the music influenza- a special breed of “PC-Snubbers”, the avid collector and breeders of the perfect all life pushing and basic need to express. They are questioned by the rules of static, challenged constantly by the electric hum of emptiness. “Why must you be so loud? Why must you simply exist?”