Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Traffic

There’s something about I mean nothing like music in the morning when it fills my head, my cloudy head filled with sound and the thoughts these sounds bring me, manic thoughts of dancing in clubs and everything I need from the connection of all those bodies sweating in a room with these beats oh these beats and everything. So yes I’m dancing, but then of course something hurts and then I’m on the stretching mat, eyes closed in meditative breathing, where is my breath stuck, just observe, don’t try to change, it will change itself, and that’s where the music changes, bossy bass-heavy bounciness gives way to a spacy trill, babies in the distance, a hummingbird’s piano, and I remember when someone wrote about my writing about music, and said: I don’t go to punk shows anymore, so I love hearing it. No, reading is what she said, reading it, and of course I thought wait, I’m not writing about punk shows, but it’s the way that when you’re in the music when the music’s really in you it’s all the same the same the way you feel you feel these beats and then when the music fades out oh this arc I love the arc this album makes I mean you don’t think it’s an arc until that final song, when you realize, and as it fades out I hear sirens in the distance, kind of music until closer, and then maybe a seagull, and a car horn, and a much louder car horn, church bells, and then something that sounds like water, but it’s traffic.

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