THE INSOMNIAC DAY 47 by Daisy Waitherero Wambua

It’s been 20 hours since I last slept. My left eye feels like it’s being pricked from the inside, I barely feel my derriere; I have probably been sitting a little over 8 hours, my legs have partially dislocated conveniently at my knees and ankles. My neck is on a GOSLOW; my eyes adopt its functions. I wouldn’t dare move a nerve let alone a muscle. The light appears hazy the more I stare into it, the loud splatter of tap water in the sink disrupts my thinking rather my blank state.

Classical music has a way of putting bore and dom together. I am certain that I am speaking for quite a number of people therefore I don’t care one bit about the disputers. Who wants to listen to beats with no words? It’s unlawful to call that music. It’s like saying Meek Mill is the man in the relationship.

I am not saying I am the benchmark for what is to be referred to as music but come on, why spend time listening to something that doesn’t even have words. Probably these are frustrations of a writer when we feel underused and our talent disregarded but I know music when I hear it. The likes of Mozart, Dussek and Beethoven are regarded as the best composers of their time but oh well.

Music is life and life is music. Music is like a novel only that it’s accompanied by musical instruments and occasional good voices. Hip Hop music however is a breath of fresh air that infuses life back in ways that nothing else can. Something about the lyrics, the emotions, the instruments and the vocals that become one and the product is such an amazing creation. I bet Hip Hop artists do look back at their work and say  ‘it is good’.

Other genres of music are exactly that; others. I pass out a little over two seconds after listening to a piece by Mozart


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here