What Have You Bought Into How Much Will It Cost To Buy You Out?

"Dear Goddess, We made this breakbeat just for you-as an offering Can you hear us now?" I don't think I can adequately express the line above without the benefit of Saul Williams' style, especially not in print. It's a repeated repeated line in a particular piece of his, which starts off with a recording of one of his father's sermons regarding fatherhood, and Saul's own addition begins "Our Father-who art in-St.Francis' hospital-for hypertension". And then he echoes in this bit about offering up a holy breakbeat, over and over and if only Mr.Williams didn't go on to talk so convincingly in his belief of his own diefication I would swallow this line whole. Unfortunately, he's let himself have such a loose grasp on the possibility of Truth that even though his music stirs this intensity in my blood that reminds me to live again, I still have to take several steps back and raise my hands up at the album sometimes, saying "Naw, naw, I'm not buying that, man. Bullshit." But still, that line, such a mantra of dedicating creativity, and the idea of returning it to a mother figure rather than a father figure changes the context so much for me, that just hearing that idea raises the hair on the back of my neck. I swear, I'd shrug off most people who pulled this sort of thing on me in a matter of moments, but there's something about this guy that I have to take his message and just subtly alter it against what I know he believes because it'd be such a shame to let some of these lines go to waste. He talks about having his soul tattooed on his tongue, about making his soul rhyme with his mind, all these fertile similes and metaphors that just sit there begging for me to cobble them into my own belief system, so I drive from Hillsboro to Portland just listening to the intonation of his metered prayer.