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66 Motel

by Jalen Thompson

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1.
prelude 01:17
2.
i. 01:12
we decided to meet at 9pm but i didn’t get there til about 10:30. you thought you were ghosted for the howevermanyeth time that day and were about to fall asleep, progressively sipping on the craft beer you can’t pronounce. you finally got your wish—the 2010s are now being referred to as the old days. you are officially vintage now. which is what brought you to me.
3.
ii. 02:00
i am annoyed at hearing “Let’s Get it Started” at this whitewashed work meeting for the 5th time now. my coworkers have been reeling about the fact that the 2010s are now considered the old days. television executives have moved on to a younger audience. i find the notion of youth perplexing, mainly because it cycles out through the decades. every generation has its time. i am way too high to be at this work function, but at least the weed made me deal with the antiblackness a little better today. i really gotta stop messing with white men. my psyche has been tormented from them. when I get home, I’ll scroll on the app until I find you.
4.
iii. 00:50
beware of profiles that look too good to be true. i will not be fooled again. tonight, when i download the app again, ill hope for someone better. then you came along.
5.
iv. 02:15
you don’t know why you keep deleting and redownloading the app. sometimes you really need some company or just some dick. tonight, either one would’ve sufficed. you are unsure if you’ll ever be satisfied. you can’t rely on the app to give you what you don’t yet know you need. if you’re never honest about the fact that being indecisive is your greatest personality trait, you will continue having embarrassing hookups with newly divorced fathers of 3 kids or straight acting DL boys who are so confused they make you question your sexuality. you say to yourself, “can i get an actual gay tonight?”
6.
v. 02:03
scrolling and scrolling through blank profiles & profiles of white couples looking for 3rds, we land on each other. i am elated that a brown boy messaged me. you are elated you found one of the only black boys in Eugene. in messaging each other, we are in touch with our stolen boyhoods, queer and pure. we need to experience each other, even for a moment.
7.
vi. 01:12
you are on the bed wondering if i’m really coming over. i underestimate how long the walk would be. i will be very late. you are not worried. it won’t be a big deal if this doesn’t happen.
8.
vii. 01:33
a knock on the door: i am here. you are impressed, not so much by my appearance but the fact that i showed up. i am still skeptical if you would kill me or not. before walking to your room door, i asked my ancestors to protect me. the bed looks comfortable but I am intimidated by it. you can tell. you keep reassuring me that you “don’t bite.” i only think of jeffery dahmer.
9.
viii. 01:22
i don’t want to kiss you because I think my breath is very funky right now and, because you know all of my insecurities, you know that my mouth is a sensitive topic. your attempts at poking your tongue through the wall of teeth have been exhausted. you stop trying. you lay your head on my chest. you like it there. we are surprised we don’t want something more.
10.
ix. 01:17
this could cure us, but we don’t want to be cured. we rest in the softness of intimate touch. we breathe to a cadence improvised on the spot. we cannot deny ourselves of this touch. we cannot ignore the simplicity of desire.
11.
x. 01:15
you told me that you’d message me on facebook messenger. i have been waiting for a week now. i want to tell you how much i miss being near you, that being near you felt like home. i am confused about where my home is, but, in that moment with you, i found it. i have to realize that that was just a moment. it’s the fact that we didn’t have sex is why im stuck on you. clearly, we are supposed to be married by now. when you message me, I will inform you of this.
12.
xi. 02:34
what happened in that motel room is not for public knowledge. what happened in that motel room is not up for debate. what happened in that motel room was precious. did we not critique white supremacy? did we not rekindle the warmness we never had in childhood? did we not overshare with a complete stranger who we don’t have plans on seeing again? when i said i was happy to spend more time with you while we were waiting for the AC in your car to come on, was that too much? did we not dispute our insecurities? did we not come to the realization that we both have the tendency to be overly critical to ourselves? we talked like we knew each other. and we did, for a moment.
13.
xii. 02:13
you aren’t aware that I spotted you on the street near my apartment. you are too concerned with finding a place to smoke your joint. it’s been such a tough day since your layoff. these days you are in a hurry even though you don’t have anything to do. you have failed at the only job you have now—which is to find a job. you like this. you are accepting that you don’t have to be perfect. in fact, you never want people to think that you’re perfect. with this brilliant revelation, you don’t see me in your rearview memories.
14.
xiii. 02:01
i wanted to say hello but knew i shouldn’t. i don’t know what made that so. maybe it was the blank expression on your face. it looked so blank, yet so focused. you look like you’re elsewhere. i want to go there with you. i want to say hello, but i know i can’t. “Now You’re Just Somebody That I Used to Know.”
15.
postlude 01:23

about

The concept is simple:
Two strangers decide to meet for a hook up at a motel. The hook up ends up being not quite what they expected. They both go back to their regulars lives, but one of them longs for more...

I want 66 Motel to feel like you are listening to a movie. With music composed by me, the album starts out soft, builds into a heavy rock vibe, and then mellows out. I want the listener to feel like they are right there in between the two strangers. Will you see yourself in one or both of the characters? Will wonder what really happened at the 66 Motel?

Thank you for listening.

credits

released June 30, 2023

written, performed, produced, mixed, and mastered by Jalen Thompson

album cover by Antheny Chhay

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Jalen Christopher Thompson Eugene, Oregon

black queer spoken word poetry

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