
You know that thing you do sometimes, when you are walking alone & you start singing to yourself, improvising lyrics? I do, anyhow. & how sometimes, your on-the-spot song is just apt, just real science dropping? The words just come together, your subconscious stringing together mad rhymes? Well, to me it does, anyhow. & today I was walking to the R train, my lips & neurons hand in hand to deliver fresh beats, & I remembered the time I came up with the illest, dopest songsmithing ever. I was probably fourteen years old, waiting for the big yellow school bus in the snow, puffing frosty condensation, & I started singing about The Silmarillion. It just all knit together-- I hope the ice from my breath froze & recorded it-- just the whole thing; Ungoliant swallowing the Trees, Fëanor rebuking the herald of the gods, the Noldor crossing the ice-desert, Beren & Luthien Tinuviel, the Fall of Gondolin, everything. I was the only one there, but it was a magical moment. A touch of Taliesin. I'll always remember it happening, even if I can't ever recall the words or the music.

Last night was Television Night! Hooray! I walked through the door & instantly
