It’s not always easy to project a quality of equanimity during times that differences of opinions arise between spouses – and I’m no different. Voices get raised, tempers tend to rush to areas that are best forgotten when it’s all done and dusted. And words do hurt. A lot! And of course they’re meant to – at the time, anyway. Regret? Sure! And then comes the shitty part – remorse. And, worst of all – conveying it!

I was in one of those spaces when – no prizes for guessing who shows up…

Heeey maan!

Look Java – I try to seem immersed, absorbed – I’m really trying to concentrate on something here. Do you mind just stepping out for a bit? We could get together later this evening and…

Waaasup maaan? Yo can’t fool ol Java. Who know you better dan me maan? Tink I don know what waas happenin between you an de dancer jus now? She be piiiisssed off at you an you bin getting on her case. She say dis bout you and you say dat bout her. She pulls a trip on you an you don buy it. Fuuuck maaan, dis be ol sheet dat you be rakin up an you gotta get over dis mundane crap ol buddy o mine. Tell you what, Java’s gonna make it right between you two. Jus you wait an see.

That’s all I need! Hit the nail on the head, he did, but the last thing I need right now is for Java to emerge and engage in some way out logic that would not make any sense to her at all and that would probably aid in her certainty that I was the way she said I was all along. Logic does not make sense if the basis of the assumption (or premise, if you will) is questioned as possibly false. And all I needed right now was another bout of hostility and resentment. Like a hole in the head!

Know what maan, fust we need some coool sounds – to calm da soul and soothe dem stressed out nerves.

He heads towards the system. Rummaging around a stack of old vinyl 33’s, he gets out a well preserved disc and sets it on the turntable. Click.

Check dis out maaan an float off for a bit. Get all dat agro shit out of da system. Clear da mind. Here, dis will help you get up dere.

He takes one of those special buds of his out of his stash can, clips off a bit and reaches for the Zig Zags. He’s humming to the music as he rolls up one of his fat doobs. He lights up and passes it to me.

Keep it maaan, I roll myself anudder one for me.

Know what maan? Yo gotta be cool wit da dancer. She be tem-per-a-men-tal maan, jus like all dem fine artistes be. Dey got da soul from somewhere special an dis make som kinda imbalance in da psyche. Som of dem flip right out an can’t find dere way back home – da mind it play som funny-ass tricks maan. We don understand dat shit. So you be cool, hear?

I’m drifting off. The music is just right for the mood and Java’s special is zinging through the senses. He’s right, of course.

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