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I’ve been listening to Drake’s song “Marvin’s Room” for a minute and I love it. The beat is perfect: subdued so that it doesn’t take focus off the lyrics and flow yet still present enough to give you the intended feel of being up late & twisted, distraught and having a sense of pseudo nonchalance. It’s been impecabbly described as “the fumes from music that’s already evaporated– a wisp of keyboard, a single watery thud of bass drum.”

The song is basically about being drunk (or whatever other state of intoxication or misery you may be in) and thinking about the person you’ve loved and lost that has since moved on (with someone else) while all you’ve been up to is a hazy series of meaningless “associations” if any. It’s emotional, raw and very naked with pathetical undertones married with defiance. Jojo, among a cluster of other musicians, have taken to releasing their own renditions of Marvin’s Room that depicts their own scenario but still keeping withing the theme of the original track.

The realness in both songs have triggered memories of some calls that I’ve made and received. How intense, draining and downright unhealthy they were. They all start the same way. The urgency of missing someone so badly that they’re all you can bloody think of. You try your best to get them out of your thoughts by indulging in something else which only makes the situation worse. Drinking disorients you, music makes you sentimental, a movie will lead you into a false reality, someone else will just prove how much better whoever is haunting you is. . . all no bueno! The missing turns to yearning which escalates to freaking insanity!

You manage to hold it off for a while, your pride won’t let you do something you may end up regretting. “I’m too good for this” you convince yourself. And for a few minutes, you believe yourself. Then it comes at you again. The compelling urge to just pick up the phone & dial that number that you deleted in a moment of lividity yet in futility as it’s permanently seared into your memory. The overwhelming need to just hear THAT voice and hear if it needs to hear yours just as bad too. You weigh the options, you play out the conversation in your already compromised mindset, you breath in deep and before you know it the numbers appear on your screen; fingers working on their own volition. The familiar pattern of keys being revisited after so long. And then you halt! You’ve been through this before. What if they don’t answer? What if they see your call & aren’t interested in answering? What if they are with the other person and can’t be bothered to answer? WHAT IF THAT OTHER PERSON ANSWERS???? What if they answer despite being with the other person? What then? What if the phone is off? It’s been so long, what if they’ve changed their number??? All these burning questions are reasons not to make the call and you heed. Untill you don’t. . .

1st ring & you hold your breath. . . 2nd ring you whisper “what the fuck am I doing?” . . . 3rd ring & you start panicking! Too late to hang up now, why the fuck did you have to dial? . . . 4th ring you wish you had hidden your number and then he picks up! You have a short awkward conversation pregnant with emotion, saturated with muted anger & frustration, bursting with desire & desperation!

formalities are exchanged, one of you almost calls the other one “baby” but refrains, “sorry I woke you” and “what are you doing up?” take center stage. buying time for the heavier stuff. Then it drops like an anvil on a Loony Toon: suddenly, haphazardly, no elegance not tact to it whatsoever-the “I miss you!” It’s returned. Earnestly. You can hear it. Acceleration, build up, then an explosion! One of you mentions the other one’s other one. “Why are we doing this?” followed by “I don’t know” . . . you both carry on talking. Trying not to fuck it all up. . .



The call ends. It undoubtedly makes you feel worse than you did before! Either because you argue AGAIN and one of you hangs up in a huff! Or worse still, everything progresses sweetly and you hate that it’s over. Loneliness takes over. You end up taking solace in the fact that s/he answered the call. That you didn’t hear anyone else’s voice. . . Pathetic!