Thelonious Twitter

    follow me on Twitter

    7.30.2008

    Love On Wax (Scene 7)

    Our last scene leaves off at the edge of the pre-climatic "Event"
    In this so you say "screenplay"
    Q chilled the night in a New Jersey hotel
    With plans to wake up early and start out to New York to meet his room mate
    And move in
    Our scene starts with Q's Kanye West alarm at 6:00 AM
    (The alarm clock sounds off with the sound of Kanye's voice)
    "Good Morning"
    (The music plays and Q taps his fingers to the beat, then he taps on the alarm. Q rolls over, falling right out of the bed. He picks his face off the hotel carpet, and lifts himself onto a nearby chair. His voice speaks and begins to narrate the scene.)
    "Today is the day, New York here I come. Let me pack up this equipment, but I need to check these e-mails."
    (Q, flips open the laptop, flips through his e-mail, facebook, hypebeast & highsnobiety, and then he proceeds to close it. He then puts his production equipment up in it's box. He opens his hotel door, the sun blinds him for a second. He holds his hand to eyes, his car sitting right in front of his room. Staring at his Civic, Q simply says...)
    "Damn you need to be washed!"
    (He goes back inside grabs his box and carries it the car, struggling he opens the passenger door. drops the box on the seat, then leans on the car. He peers into sky as the clouds cover the sun for a moment. He realizes he is minutes from what he is to become, He turns back to the room, and begins to walk to the door, he peers back to the car and then continues. He takes a quick shower, and returns to the room. He has laid out a Leaders 1354 tee shirt, his favorite cargo shorts, and he slips on his slippers so he get his sneakers. He strolls to the car, his morning thoughts have left him, there is no fear. He pops his trunks and it is lined with Nike Dunks, he peers for a second, then he sees what he wants. God Father/ Mafia Pack Hi's. He has a thing for SB Dunks. He's lucky his foot hasn't grown in the past 5 years. He as accumulated a disgusting amount, He could only grab 30 of them to fit in the trunk, hopefully he could have pops send the rest and he would have to put them into storage. He grabs the kicks and there is already a pair of ankle socks within them. Q has the thing for these type of details, like the papers in each vinyl case he has. There is a small sheet of paper in each one and it has times written on them, they are times of breaks of which he would sample. Q closes the trunk, sits on the edge of his car and puts on his kicks. He peers into the room for anything he has left, he takes his alarm clock, and his toiletry bag, and strolls back the car throws the stuff in the back of the car. He goes to the front desk and pays for the room. Then He comes back to the car, and sits in, he looks at the wheel, turns the key, Cool Kids starts to play. He begins to chuckle he says to himself aloud.)
    "This can be me, New York here I come."
    (He turns the key all the way the engine sound, and he closes his door. He pulls out of the lot and drives on. He gets on the Garden State Parkway, he takes route 3 to the Lincoln Tunnel. As he drives he flips to a cd he has been saving for this trip alone. He only burnt one song to this disc, he takes out the Cool Kids cd, and pops in the disc. The music floods from speakers and Billy Joel welcomes Q to the city.)
    (He gazes and is amazed by the city, he peers out of his car window, like a tourist in a car, he looks up at the skyscrapers, the scenery shocks him, it isn't like Chicago, he continues to drive right into Times Square. The billboards and bright lights, he turns back around and heads for Canal St., towards the NYU Campus, his room mate and Q agreed to a small two room apartment. Lucky for Q, his room mate's parents are covering the apartment as long the two have a GPA of at least 3.0.  He pulls up to building about two blocks from the campus, outside on a luggage bag is a kid, lanky with a hat that belonged on a old man. Yet as Q pulled up slowly, he felt a vibe that he only got from those who worked with music in any type of way. As he pulls up completely he notices a sign on the neck of the kid. It read...)
    "What the hell is a Q."
    (Q actually chuckles, he steps out the car looks the kid on the bag says in a brooklyn accent...)
    "Man what you looking at b, I mean you don't know who I am. But I am having house party later, me and my room mate. You could come you know 
    (He mumbles under his breath.)
    "Wherever he is."
    (Unfortunately for our kid that is not named, Q heard him. He smartly replies.)
    "Oh really? A house party, well I just drove all the way from Chicago, and I'm not about to let my room mate throw some bogus house party. I mean unless you know some girls or something?"
    (The kid looks up in amazement, he says his name with a sense of I know who you are...)
    "My name Charles Stone, and no I'm not like this all the time. My father said to make a good impression on the guy he's also paying for to live with his son. Actually I don't talk this much, well unless I'm on stage."
    (Q cuts him off quickly.)
    "Wait stop the presses what some shy dude doing on a stage."
    (Charles looks back at him blankly, like what.)
    "Well excuse me famo, I produce, and if you got any type of money like ya pops we need to holla. Hell just I'm trying to get my name out, put it like this I'll hit you with the five piece, thats five beats extra mild sauce."
    (Charles is taken a back, you know kids in Brooklyn don't talk like this, he says...)
    "What did you say Q."
    (Q realizes what he said, he some what thinks he is still in Chicago, he trys again.)
    "What I said, oh what I meant was, you being my room mate, I'll hit you with 5 great beats free of charge."
    (Charles looks shocked, he murmurs.)
    "You produce?"
    (Q smiles, he doesn't even speak a word at first. He turns and points to the car, which is full of  crates upon crates. Charles looks into the car from where he is sitting, he softly speaks again.)
    "Damn! But do you dj?"
    (Q chuckles, he knows he is no Kid Capri, yet he has learned a little something locked in his room for days. He replies...)
    "Yeah, a little bit."
    (Charles looks in a bit of hope, maybe this is the start of something great, he says out of the silence.)
    "Well Q, we got all the furniture already in, we just have to move in our stuff. But it seems like I should bring up my stuff first, all that stuff you have this is going to be a project with all of those crates."
    (Q looks at his one bag, what he had failed to notice is the two LARGE bags behind him. Q points to them, Charles looks up, he begins to speak, yet Q cuts him off.)
    "Dude for one, I'm calling you Chuck. Charles sounds like the old white guy that smokes a pipe in a robe. Two, what the hell are in those extra bags, dude are those extra room mates I don't know about."
    (Charles then answers back...)
    "Alright then call me Chuck, and bag one."
    (Chuck points to the bag behind him to the left.)
    "That would be sneakers, I mean I'm in one of the best cities to collect them, and I do wear mine, but that bag oh my."
    (Chuck points to the other bag.)
    "My collections."
    (Q looks puzzled and replies.)
    "Collections, of what?"
    (Chuck wisely replies.)
    "Baseball and basketball cards, and toys. You know action figures type things, but this bag is a little heavy, there is a four foot companion in here."
    (Q looks weirdly, and says.)
    "Dude just do that in the other room, I mean you didn't say that you knew any girls."
    (Chuck burst out laughing, through the laughs he says.)
    "I mean my KAWS four foot companion. I'll show you when we get moved in."
    (Still looking at all of the luggage, Q looks puzzled he pipes in.)
    "Hey! So we're moving all this stuff in ourselves?"
    (Chuck laughs at Q, he flexes his skinny muscles and points to their room on the fifth floor, and then shakes his head. He then proceeds to take out his cell phone, he flips it open dials the number, and holds it to his ear.)
    "Yeah pops, Quincy is."
    (Q taps Chuck on the shoulder and whispers.)
    "Since we're on the shortened name basis just call me Q."
    (Chuck looks at him then mutters into the phone.)
    "Quincy said just call him Q. Yeah I know it's a letter not a name..."
    (Chuck is making faces as he bickers with his father.)
    "Just send the movers dad, we're waiting outside, and call the good ones, this kid has a nice vinyl collection."
    (Chuck closes the phone, and turns to Q.)
    "The movers should be here in five minutes."
    (The two sit on Chuck's luggage trunks placed by Q's car. Chuck turns to Q and says.)
    "So how did you start, and why do you produce?"
    (A small smile comes to Q's face and he begins.)
    "Well when I was little, while kids were going to the candy store. I went to the record store, my first record is Funky Drummer. As I got older I saw the technology that I could use to make my own music. I taught myself how to DJ, I did some high school parties. I taught myself how to sample, I listened to Gang Starr and payed close attention to DJ Premier, and I most definitely have re-visited all of my A Tribe Called Quest albums. But really I listen to soul, or basically anything I would sample, so it's not that I'm making a rap song beat. Naw never that, I'm making music. Do you think Marvin Gaye was making soul music? No he was making music, what spoke to him at the time he expressed it. I'm just expressing myself, of what I see. Yet you're one of those rich kids, you haven't seen struggle like mine, life doesn't come easy. I got an alcoholic dad, who is stuck to the couch. A mother who died right after my birth, so I all I have of her, is my dad's sob stories and a picture. But music lets me escape any type of hurt, music bleeds and cries, and it lets you do the same."

    (Chuck is taken aback, he is almost teary eyed. In the world of the privileged, he has never seen anyone with that passion for what they love. Only ties and suites, and men who find comfort behind money. Chuck realizes this is going to be his medicine, his dose of the real world. Still in shock, he can only say.)
    "Wow! I need a kleenex, I have so much appreciation for what you do without even hearing anything of yours. If you put 5% of that heart of yours in the music, you'll go somewhere."
    (A large truck pulls up, men hop out and the boss who is short and stocky, wobbles over like a penguin. He is the only one not in clothes suitable to move bags. He checks his clipboard and looks at Chuck and Q. He asks.)
    "Charles Stone and Quincy Miles?"
    (The both nod their head quietly, the boss penguin continues.)
    "Alright step aside and let my guys do what they've been paid to do, you're apartment should be ready in a sec."
    (Chuck and Q get off the luggage, and proceed to lean on Q's car, Q turns to Chuck and simply asks.)
    "So why do you MC?"
    (Chuck eyes light up, as a shy person when asked about something he doesn't shy away from he is keen to tell.)
    "Why you ask? Well aside being the only black kid in my classes at private school. I was always a poet. Before my dad got into the high life, his father was a poet, revolutionary at that. He wrote poetry during the Civil Rights Movement. Before he passed, he taught me the true strength of a word. He taught me that what you say has a global effect, and that the pen is much mightier then any sword or weapon. Seeing that, I wanted to express myself in that same matter, so I used poetry. It went from writing third grade poems to realizing the power of words in an instant. One of my friends saw how deeply I was into my poetry and asked me to do a spoken word bit at an open mic. I went out, yet I was still shy. It went alright, but I could tell I let some people down. They were expecting this confident voice, but it just didn't come out. After the crowd parted someone told me I had a great voice, I just needed the proper way to express it. I then learned the power of how you speak your words. I could say shut up, but depending on how I said it, I could be mad at you or joking. Dude gave me a card, on it was an address to a studio. I mean as corny as it sounds, the moment I stepped into the booth, every shy bone in my body let go of my inhibitions. I felt empowered to speak in a way that I could hide any part of myself. I just feel free, now I may have had some help because of who my father is, but I am my own man. I guess this is also why I've gone so opposite of my father."
    (Chuck and Q look at each other, they realize this is the beginning of a great friendship, our scene slowly fades with the boss shouting that their apartment is ready. Concluding our epic scene.)

    This took a couple of days to put together
    Scene 8 coming soon
    The Brain is tired

    No comments: