“What happens when Jesus, Rumi, and Elvis hit the karaoke stage? Hymns remix into club anthems, poems get spun into the disco ball, and rhinestones prove enlightenment can wear blue suede shoes.
I can smell the fake fog...mostly because I'm gasping between laughs. The ending, tho...pure VMB magic and something this 'poser' needed to hear today. Sometimes it's just sticky.
Do Karaoke bars still exist? I’m the solo groupie in the front row dancing like she knows how but totally faking it & not caring. Jesus , Rumi & Elvis??? Can’t wait to see what I dream about tonite 🤣😆😅
And J.S. Bach is sitting behind four turntables spinning beats that fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.
Well, fugue me!
I can smell the fake fog...mostly because I'm gasping between laughs. The ending, tho...pure VMB magic and something this 'poser' needed to hear today. Sometimes it's just sticky.
Thanks for this wild and potent metaphor!
Do Karaoke bars still exist? I’m the solo groupie in the front row dancing like she knows how but totally faking it & not caring. Jesus , Rumi & Elvis??? Can’t wait to see what I dream about tonite 🤣😆😅