I remember this memory, and why it means something to me.
It was a part of a loss of innocence. After the 8th grade, my mother and I had moved in with my grandmother Doris. She owned a three flat around Bronzeville, At the time my best friend Andre had moved away from South Shore to somewhere to which I do not recall (before the move to Itasca). He had always been into rap and gangsta shit, but he wasn't a gangsta, he was just the toughest between the three of us (Myself aka the 2nd coming of Bruce Leroy, Andre the Gingerbread Freckled Warrior and Quentin; the motherfucking tank himself).
Andre and his family had moved around a bit and while my mom and his mom were still friends, I could already tell that he was changing. His taste in music was decidedly darker. This was one of the things that he had started listening too. I remember still bumping TLC and my guy was on some Deep Cover shit. I wanted to not feel awkward around him so I started listening to it too. It was at this point that I realized that I liked it. I liked it, I like Dre and I liked Snoop.
Andre and I eventually became distant, and my memory is so fractured that I couldn't even tell you what the last thing we did together as friends was, but such is life. Here's where the Memory kicks in.
I haven't listened to that song in almost nearly 25 years (made in 1992). Yet after my years of listening to the tape, specifically that song; I can still recite it with at least a reasonable amount of accuracy. It is here that I've started to realize that something related to memory are tied to triggers and repetition. Interesting.
No comments:
Post a Comment