I had my six monthly skin cancer check-in with the dermo this morning. (All good. Just one pissweak little BCC I’ll get cut off later this year). I was going to catch an Uber into town for the appointment, but they were surge pricing off the back of peak hour, so I took a cab instead.
Glad I did.
The bloke who picked me up was an old-school cabbie, Tony, who asked what I did for a crust. I told him. And he straight up launches into telling me that he’s a poet.
Righto, I thought.
But he was not bullshitting me. He started composing on the fly as we drove into the city, and damn, he was good. Like, rap battle good. You know how it’s dangerously embarrassing when any white person raps? And much worse if they’re a 50+ white male?
Not this guy.
He could throw down with Ice T. Thing was, he wasn’t rapping, not in his own mind. He was just doing poetry as he drove. But the cadences were pure rap.
Makes you wish for a world where we got to hear/sea all the work of poets, writers, painters, sculptures and other creatives than could spend more time creating than having to scramble to earn the means to survive day to day.
Makes you wish for a world where we got to hear/sea all the work of poets, writers, painters, sculptures and other creatives than could spend more time creating than having to scramble to earn the means to survive day to day.
This is crazy to me. I have never met such a person, and I'm jealous.