Passion Plea

Lemme show you something...

Disregard the melody and sink deep beyond the bass of a manic techno/basement bhangra/symphony/ringtone rap; it's there, settled at the core.

Peep how time, which allegedly waits for no man, seems to stand stark still in deference of our consumption of the moving image mass-mediated.

Follow along with the transcript of a lovers' quarrel. Read lips and subtitles for context clues to the subtext of a prolonged misery. The hollering makes it easier.

It is Passion...and it is addictive.

Not like crank-laced weed; that's just the obvious conduit to the pursuit of bliss.

Not tobacco in Newport clothing. Cool, calm, closure -- in that order -- await at the filtered finish line.

Booze is indeed the boss of me. This we all know. Inhibitions and body shots, after all, are attractive in a world of structure and moral code.

But Passion is what we all crave. It is why we over-indulge in movies, music, nacotics, food, love, other people's business -- no matter how mindless.

Because the tone deaf waif on the other side of your headphones is driven. We watch and admire her movements and missteps.

Famous for No Reason folks are motivated...to be famous, I suppose. So much so that we take the ride with them on their journey...without even bothering to ever leave the couch to open our front doors to allow in an opportunity for us.

We group into social media "followings" and scroll through other people's stream-of-consciousness adventures...instead of embarking on one for ourselves.

Passion is the thing that keeps people's attention for hours without end, years without ceasing, lifetimes even. It is the harmony, the carcinogen, the climax, the infatuation that act as roughage for the soul.

Lemme show you... See? I recognize it in others and pray for a similar blessing.

My passion is out there somewhere, lonely, passing the time by flirting with fear and serenading self-doubt, waiting for me to find it.