Dear World

Please Kill Me,

Bienvenidos (Welcome) withered writer’s of winds past and to come. I trust the muses have been gently tickling your (empty) tummy’s.

I went for a walk today (don’t worry, this is going somewhere). It was a bit different from my ritualistic traversing of my neighborhood. Today I focused on watching.

Headphones in – playing some ambient music, I took a detour to the busier areas, and just sort of watched. There were children running in the middle of the street, a few people walking there pets, couple of ( delicious smelling) barbeque’s -everything you’d expect on a Sunday. ( Though there were a few wild cards middling about, but hey, whatever).

Oddly enough I enjoyed everything. That kind of real-life enjoyment, that becomes a rarity in your twenty’s. No drugs, no liquor, no “letting loose”, just being. It was beautiful, and by comparison, entirely more fulfilling than my normal routine of beer and television.

When I got home, I just sat in my chair ( Admittedly with a beer. Hey the shakes aren’t fun) and reflected on all of it.

I guess you could call it inspiration, but I was washed over with this urge to recreate exactly what I had seen. Not to just report it, but to emote it. After about two hours, it was done. I read it over once, shut my laptop, and threw back on that ambient music.

Not to sound all hipster, but I meditated on it all. I was transported right back to my walk. The interesting part here, is that instead of simply remembering what I saw, the narrative that I had written played along side my mental imagery, in perfect unison. I realized the scope of what I had done (aside from the meta- implications) and it nearly brought me to tears. (Only half a beer in at that point, so I can only assume that it was a (mostly) genuine emotional reaction.

I opened my laptop and went back to the document. I titled it, I Do Magic.

I usually hate the comparison of artistry to magic. I always figured it was the outsiders way of mocking the craft as intangible, or fictional. But no. I did actual magic. By reliving a moment on the page, I made it equally real to actually living it, and in addition , now anyone could read it, and do the same.

That’s what we do as artists.we alchemize moments, summon emotions, and give something to people -in a way that only We can. I don’t know about you, but to me that’s magic in it’s purest sense.

Simple, yet complex. Fiction, yet real.Human, yet godly. So go wave your wands and touch someone ( not like that). You’re a wizard, Harry.

Abra-Ka-Friggin’- Dabra.

-Antwan Crump.

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