in case there are any movie producers reading gyrate. imagine you've just met a woman and everything clicks. you fit, you respond, you spend a month of sensual indulgence that secures a mutual desire to share your lives together. whimsically you both elect to attend a rap concert as a playful tribute to your youths. with no surprise, as neither of you shared any expectations (being intentionally present in each others' moments, together), the night is salt on the meat of your trysts, and you can't even conceive of the potential that nothing could be better, because you are so spiritually, physically, emotionally, and intellectually consumed by the passing present that such considerations are inhibited from manifestation by the power of your directed attention. you're both rapping along to big pac or whatever, racial shame beaten back by the pure flame of materiospiritual omniabsorption, when you finish the lyric, smiling enthusiastically, just as the music stops and the entirely white audience goes quiet to hear you, and only you, shout NIGGER.

except instead of being embarrassed and ashamed and then reminded of why you don't say the n word by a few particularly violent n words, the n word on stage looks around at the audience, scoffs, then looks back at you and says...you aight white boy, and the music picks back up and everybody raises the roof, chanting "white boi white boi" and you get married and have children and die peacefully in your old age with no doubt or fear or misgivings about death.