Leland Jack leaves his drab apartment at Watershed Heights. As the sun peeped through the broken clouds and slanted upon the sleepy little city, he looked troubled. He saw stuffed streets and dank urban filth and the gated community running adjacently left him staring at its beauty, sometimes for hours on end. All he needed to do was make a phone call home, just one simple phone call to his parents and he could be unwinding in a hot-tub right now. He didn’t even own a phone! Ha!
As he turns a corner, pulls up his basketball shorts, and clicks his mouth in a beat-box gesture, his eyes spot a little black object hanging by a cord. Leland winces, looks in all directions, and lunges for it. He dials: "dddddrrrrrrrriiiing!" A smooth, afro-american comes jostling by, dark as the moon, snapping his fingers to an imaginary rhythm. Soon there was a beating sound and the streets seemed to come to life: drums, a drowsy trumpet biting the air, rugged sidewalk and walls festooned with color and drawings.
Leland slams down the phone realizing his mistake and walks across the street towards the train tracks with the hot metal. He walks along the edges of the train track and tries balancing but he wobbles and wobbles. He comes here every now and then to pass the time and concoct ways of becoming rich the real way, through spitting rhymes (shitty rhymes but rhymes nevertheless). He proclaims this area “Jack’s Tracks” because not another soul ever comes near these overgrown train tracks, choked by leaning trees and sunny leaves.
Walking back from "Jack's Tracks," in a ceaseless drizzle, Leland sees something that strikes him. Was it a vision, a mirage? A wolf...man. A wolf-man. The wolf man is scowling like an unhappy castaway on the island of abnormality. Leland sees his pained mouth, his mean brow and his matted face and stares as if he is looking at himself. Leland, it seems, has been put down his whole life (I've heard others talk about "that white guy who wishes he was black"). Leland, in an instant knew what his new rap song was going to be about: the wolf-man. But hopeless Leland will write trite lyrics and mediocre music, never realizing that his means are fruitless and that his end will come soon. So soon.
But enough thinking and pondering. Time to get a fye fye grill, yo!
Leland slams down the phone realizing his mistake and walks across the street towards the train tracks with the hot metal. He walks along the edges of the train track and tries balancing but he wobbles and wobbles. He comes here every now and then to pass the time and concoct ways of becoming rich the real way, through spitting rhymes (shitty rhymes but rhymes nevertheless). He proclaims this area “Jack’s Tracks” because not another soul ever comes near these overgrown train tracks, choked by leaning trees and sunny leaves.
Walking back from "Jack's Tracks," in a ceaseless drizzle, Leland sees something that strikes him. Was it a vision, a mirage? A wolf...man. A wolf-man. The wolf man is scowling like an unhappy castaway on the island of abnormality. Leland sees his pained mouth, his mean brow and his matted face and stares as if he is looking at himself. Leland, it seems, has been put down his whole life (I've heard others talk about "that white guy who wishes he was black"). Leland, in an instant knew what his new rap song was going to be about: the wolf-man. But hopeless Leland will write trite lyrics and mediocre music, never realizing that his means are fruitless and that his end will come soon. So soon.
But enough thinking and pondering. Time to get a fye fye grill, yo!
