After many fingers on every hand got tired of pointing with iron-clad facts, and friends' faces got that polite look, it was time to shut up and walk.
To light and then the light above it.
To a road, however dark and lonely, if only to remember the difference between what quiet sounds like and the ridiculous noise in my head. And also to remember to NOT argue with someone who is NOT there. (Which pisses me off because when they are not there, I win the argument.)
To a chair where my ass belongs so I can hear something greater than the argument I only win with others when they aren't there.
And then back to the world, where I get to see lots of shoes worn thin from walking the walk, not talking the talk.
You can't talk peace. You can only walk it.
Westbeth, Punk, and the Golden Age of Hip-Hop: SD50
-
Westbeth Artist Housing opened in 1970. It is located in the Far West
Village, and spans an entire city block bounded by Washington, Bank, West
and Bethu...
12 hours ago