I see zombies in the streets almost every night. Last night one of them for the time. He was wondering if it was 2 am yet; wondering if the streets were clearing so he could find a stretch of sidewalk to lay on; a recessed doorway to give shelter.
It was not yet 2 a.m.; it was after midnight though.
On a random Tuesday night this little corner of the city was peopled by pretty girls making ugly faces. Clusters of twenty-something year old dudes cock-blocked each other. Potential hook-ups tried to shake chaperoning-ass third wheels. Loners stood at odd spots, looking bored.
A colorful mix of music spilled through open doors into the street. The zombie must have been deaf, else he would have known that the bars were still open and that he would have to wait.
I walked against the grain of a slowly dispersing crowd, sampling sounds, being invisible.
Of all the faces and bodies in the crowd only two stood out. The zombie and this one girl. She was the stand-out tone in the wall of sound. She was the sample.
Had I not been invisible I might have tried to take her out of that chaotic scene, away from the zombies who were lurking. I would have tried to build something new around her.
But I was a ghost. She saw through me. She looked in my direction. She would have smiled had I smiled. She saw that I was hiding and let me hide.
Listening through Foisey's catalog lets me know that I did the right thing. She was out of place except for the moment after our eyes met; the moment before she realized I was a ghost.
Then and there she was perfect. The scene was odd, with zombies and all, but there is no place I could have taken her where she would have been more beautiful. She could not have shone brighter than that moment.
So I sampled it.
The Foisey catalog bumps with hazy, experimental and super-real remixes and instrumental concepts that make sense in my world of midnight wandering; a world where I encountered the odd angel among the humans in my city who are left for undead.
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