Decent champ battle, was expecting less from both, but came with more than I expected. A surreal experience. I sit listening to daft punks discovery, a particular song in 'something about us'. Even coupled with the anime of interstella 5555, makes it even more acceptable. It is coupled perfectly, and overrun with emotion makes this battle much easier to grade. YDK came coupled with a fire. It was intense as it was simple. I liked the idea you took, as it had many big words to explain in detail about it but i don't feel like thinking those big words into words. It was decent, it was strong, it was straightforward. You told a story with one counterpoint and seemed to be driven off of explain that one thing, what differentiated you from certain is that he coupled his with various aspects over a more adjectivial aspect, where you described something with couplets and ongoing stanzas, he switched themes to pounce on a certain topic/subject at hand. Which made it more appreciative. Along with this (something about us, something about us) he didn't deviate and remained pretty focused and angry at the whole thing, upset almost, satirically comical, and ingeniously creative. Reminded me of pancake last round. He handled it with such a delicate touch it was genius. I remember reading it and thinking 'stellar' This is certains best work. I can't think of where he tackled a topic that much into liking and it made this much profound effect. It was top-notch and couldve beaten me if I could only use vowels to write. This album is good. Something about us shifts the moment, shifts it. Shifts the whole album, the peak. It's perfect. The delineation between stranger and bystander, in which we are all confined too. The silent voice that tells us 'what the hell should I do' in those exact words, too. The voice that speaks to you, silently, yet not loudly, yet not even speaking to you, it's almost a re-enactment of your own thoughts while youre thinking what you're saying at the moment. That tiny gut feeling you feel when you hold hands, and the heat stubs you. That feeling when you turn on your favorite track and turn up thenotch on the volume, and feel the vibrous, porous pattern on the side of the knob that livens you, when you hear the ampliciation of the music rise to a studded, perfect level that speaks to you, but not the same way you speak to yourself in your head to tell you to do things, it speaks to your vascular system, you feel your blood boil, with such finesse, you tell yourself, with a grin' i love music, i love life' and you securely tell a loved one, you love them. you send a familiar text, you eat a familiar food, you do something that livens you, you write, you exercise, you read, you touch, you smile, you watch a movie, and you learn something that night. you feel yourself getting smarter, like your life suddenly flipped a chapter and this is the new chapter, and tomorrows a new and better day. You want to keep living, even though you may have been in a abyss the night before, writhing to get out, crying, seeping blood. seeping sweat, not metaphorically of course, but, maybe just literally, perhaps. You sing yourself a song, you hum it, you take a shot of liquor. You puff that cigarette. You stare off into the light, the empty hallway, or maybe not so empty outside your room, with a mirror, a couple decorations, and you think to yourself, 'i can't handle everything' but you do, because you have too, but it isn't gloomy, this is exceptionally proud feeling. A happy, amorous, just non toxic feeling. A feeling so dense you couldnt cut it with the blade you're so familiar with. Or once were, or never were. Or maybe you want to be. Maybe you fantasize about it.
And the music starts to fade, and you hear the percussion starting to deamplify, reduction in sound, vibration, and you come back to reality, your senses heightened, you watch a plane, you hear it, so loud, with its blinking pattern like strobes. 1-2....1.........stop...1-2. You memorize the light patterns from the plane. You think about how many people are on that plane. How many hugs one particular person will get when they get off the plane. If that person is thinking about me looking at them, and they are, I am. But we don't know. We won't ever know. We're just a geographical mass of land, with *perhaps* some human looking up at it in the star studded night, maybe, maybe not. You think so. Think about the pilot, think about their family. Who they love. Why they love them. How they grew up, and how their parents grew up. You quickly shift your thoughts, a firefly dims your peripheral. You look at it and smile. Or you don't. You sip your coffee, take a sigh, and walk back in. You think about the next set of things to do, or if you don't - you lie down. Close your eyes and this chapter is postponed till you wake from your slumber some odd hours later. And it begins, but it really has gotten better. You have gotten better. Sometimes you need to relax. To not do anything. To think, but not deeply. To appreciate. To look. And see.
Be challenged. Certain was challenging. He won.