The Rap-Tap Trap

A long day has passed. Eyes get tired yet the mind is not. Excited to ramble and eager to express, the sea rages on. As the waves crash on the shore with resounding roars, I passively accept the ocean within. Too tired to protest and definitely a slave to the music of the raging sea on thoughts. Out comes the keyboard and the screen along with a pair of headphones. Log into the music streaming site and plug in some rap music. That is how the weekday blends into the wishful disconnect.

In search of some comfort deep inside my mind, I humbly accept the dissonance within and sit down to decipher it. I see an ocean, as I have already set the scene. It at once seems populated by various strange things, while also appearing to be relatively empty. I can almost picture myself in a dark room with only the light from the laptop shining on my face, as I type incoherent sentences away while feeling oddly at ease. The hour slips into a pub and after a couple of drinks it does not know its own number. It feels it can be anyone, anything. ‘Perhaps,’ muses eleven pm, ‘what if I could be 7 pm? I would probably find the grocery shop open.’ And as eleven pm wonders such absurdities, it laughs too loudly and disturbs 10 pm and all the people sleeping along with it.

Do I get comfort by writing absurdities? Or is it just a mechanical impulse of my fingers to nonchalantly float over a keyboard almost in flippant whimsy. Does every action need an outcome? The ones who preach speak of effectiveness and efficiency. Of course, they are paramount but has everything to align with the precision of a marvel of engineering. Why cannot something exist simply because it must? Why must we not be able to ramble if we wish to? But does that mean we must expect such oddities to be heard? Perhaps not. Yet, the keyboard sounds as the music within grows louder craving for a release.

Cheese sandwiches are delicious, everybody agrees, but so are crisp sandwiches. I get an idea, the two can be mixed. At this stage, it is even ridiculous to consider a blog entry. I have descended into a train of words that no longer fit on rails of the same width. Fundamentally, the premise has been lost. The context set in the first paragraph perhaps hinted at a surrealistic depiction of a writer existing in two spaces simultaneously: one, the metaphorical sea of thoughts and second, the desk at which the post is being typed out with a seeming disregard of any consistency. It may also be remarked at this point that the entire premise was built on the fact that the body is tired but the mind is excited and at some point, I am just obeying orders without truly filtering what may be called as the actions of a conscious mind. That is a good reason why under this pseudo-influence, one can be quite profound albeit if only for one statement amidst a whole bucket of balderdash.

But hold on. While I have definitely made a mockery of my attempts to build anything sensible in this piece and built up a plausible excuse for the same, I would like to point you now to the title of this entry. This whole exercise was nothing but a ruse to demonstrate a phenomenon. It is fairly simple. When one is exhausted and finds joy in typing aimlessly on a word processor, the mind is already subject to a trap. A trap quite convincing wherein it seems that a slight inspiration will spark a masterpiece and hence, one puts on some rap music and keeps writing in the faith of creation and influenced by mere shadows of inspiration. I call this the Rap-Tap Trap. But you know why I still do it even if I know that this has been nothing more than a pointless ramble?

Because it gives me peace. Ciao.