Abel On Abel: Ethiopia's Absence On The Weeknd's 'Starboy' & Other Thoughts – Okayafrica

by Zelalem

I used to not fuck with Abel. You probably thinking “oh snap, ain’t that your name too bruh.” Your eyes might be doing a double take to that little grey square on the left hand of the screen. “Damn, it is, haha. Like The Weeknd.”

Yes, reader, because my name is also Abel, like The Weeknd. (If you reading this Abel, won’t you be a meskeen and let me hold a few G’s yanay wondem?)

When House of Balloons first came out I gave it a quick listen—it sounded weird, different, I quickly dismissed my lightskin Canadian counterpart. I was busy listening to Frank Ocean’s Nostalgia Ultra and a bit jelly. Plus he Canadian, haha wtf, shit sounds like an R&B snowman on molly, I might have thought. My opinion was to quickly change.

A bad break-up. The on-and-off kind, the type of relationship that fucks you up, piece by piece, but you both keep going back to it in moments of delusion, thinking, maybe, if you do this or they do that, it’s salvageable, but it ain’t, but you still do.

I’m at a party, multiple liquors are consumed, vodka then whiskey, sounds good, aye bruh, throw some gin in my beer, haha, idgaf, call the ex, nah, nah, alright fuck it, aye, we haven’t talked in a minute but can you come get me, what, naw, I ain’t drunk, really, you think i’m fucking drunk, vomit, stumbling, my spins got the spins, homies have to pick me up, put me in the car, my boy takes me to his apartment, and bruh, don’t call your ex, puts me on the couch, throws a blanket over me, I wake up, hungover but still drunk, walk to the bus stop, my eyes hurting from how bright the sun is, headphones in my ear, I put on my light skin doppleganger, him singing about partying and fucked up relationships and being fucked up in that beautiful voice and I stood there waiting for that bus that was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago and I got it. Shit sounded amazing. Ya boy was moved to postmodern tears and shit.