Insomnia Hours: September & October Edition
Exploring Culture and Creativity at Night
Fellow insomniacs, welcome back!
I took a slight hiatus, but the break has not stopped me from documenting my late-night thoughts!
Here we are again, wide awake in the still of night, where our minds wander freely while everyone else catches their Z’s. September and October have been a whirlwind of late-night thoughts, and in true Insomnia Hours fashion, I’m inviting you to dive in with me. Let’s get into it.
1: The Art of Black Horror (September 13, 2:42 AM)

Black horror films have been on my mind lately. Candyman, Get Out, His House—these aren’t just thrillers; they’re mirrors reflecting the fears and traumas our communities face. I thought about how Jordan Peele reshaped the horror genre by making social issues the real monster. Black horror isn't just about jump scares; it forces us to confront the horrors within society—racism, gentrification, and generational trauma.
2: The Power of Quiet Moments in Nature (September 30, 4:07 AM)
One night, I found myself thinking about how often we overlook the healing power of quiet outdoor moments. It’s so easy to get lost in the city’s chaos, but those small encounters with nature—like catching the sunrise or hearing the rain tap against the window—are the ones that keep me grounded. There’s beauty in being still, and for me, it’s a reminder that the most powerful moments aren’t always loud; sometimes, they whisper.
3: Nostalgia and the Comfort of Old R&B (October 9, 1:39 AM)
There’s something about 90s R&B that hits differently in the dead of night. One minute, I’m scrolling Spotify, and the next, I’m down a rabbit hole of Toni Braxton, Brandy, and Jodeci. These songs aren’t just music—they’re a time machine. They remind me of late-night drives, old friendships, and a version of myself I hadn’t thought about in a while. It’s wild how music has a way of making the past feel so present.
4: Reinventing Yourself with Every Season (October 15, 3:47 AM)
As the leaves change, I thought about how we have this opportunity to reinvent ourselves with every season. Fall feels like a fresh start—like the reset button we didn’t know we needed. It’s in these small transitions, from one season to the next, that I’ve learned the most about myself. Reinvention doesn’t have to be drastic; sometimes, it’s as simple as picking up a new habit or letting go of things that no longer serve you.
Special Mention: Revisiting the Horror in Hip-Hop (October 28, 12:55 AM)
The Geto Boys’ We Can’t Be Stopped (1991) album cover features Bushwick Bill being wheeled through a hospital after a traumatic incident where he was shot in the eye. Dressed in a hospital gown with visible injuries, Bill’s appearance captures the group’s raw, unfiltered approach. The image symbolizes resilience, aligning with the album's title, and reflects the harsh realities the Geto Boys often explored through their music—violence, trauma, and survival in inner-city life. This striking cover became a defining part of their legacy in hip-hop.
This spooky season also had me thinking about the Geto Boys' iconic track, "Mind Playing Tricks on Me." It opens with that haunting line, "I sit alone in my four-cornered room staring at candles..."—a vivid image of isolation and paranoia. The song taps into psychological horror, where the real monsters are anxiety, fear, and the mental toll of surviving harsh environments. The Geto Boys gave us more than a hit—they delivered an eerie narrative about the human psyche unraveling under pressure.
Hip-hop’s relationship with horror is deeper than jump scares or creepy vibes; it tells the stories of everyday fears, making you feel seen even when those fears linger quietly in the dark. This isn’t just seasonal—it’s the kind of horror that sticks with you.
Final Thoughts
These past two months have been a deep dive into everything from eerie album art to late-night 90s RnB listening sessions. There’s something special about these quiet hours—it’s where the mind finds space to reflect on the past, untangle the present, and dream about the future.
And speaking of reflections, if you're vibing with this spooky energy, check out my “31 Days of Black Horror” list. Originally shared in my notes, I’m reposting it for those who missed it. This list is a perfect companion to dive into the chilling stories and complex narratives that resonate with the Black experience—one film at a time.
Until next time, stay curious, stay creative, and remember: you’re never truly alone in these late-night wanderings.
Shadé