making love to the road, part II, saved
I am in my wonderful car, and we are eating up road like sunday dinner. I could be pissed, because I have just gotten my ass chewed, but I'm not. The sun is shining on me, the gods are smiling, and the music is flowing loud and strong.It's a good moment to be alive, but fuck, they all are.
I sing along at the top of my lungs.
Voodoo Lady, shakin that stick. Drive me.. crazy *
I feel the same twinge I have felt for the four months since Jill, but so faint:
she killed me
Fuck that. For the millionth billionth time in my life I am utterly saved by the music.
though i've tried before to tell her, of the feelings i had for her, in my heart �
Pulse, pulse, I fucking love it, my drug of choice. I change gears along with the chord changes. My left foot drums on the floor, when it's not working the clutch in time.
every little thing she does �
When I imagine music in my head, I see different things for different songs. bass is typically represented by something akin to a compression wave, but slower. The bass notes pulse, throb. Guitars look like metallic silver needles, humming one after another.
Once in English class in college, two classmates who were not at all musical were conversing about the colors they saw when they heard music. They both agreed that jazz was very "Red" music. The teacher nodded, and everyone in class seemed to agree that these two prodigees were blessed with a higher understanding of music.
I wanted to stand up right then and there. "I am a musical genius and I dont see any of that color crap, so you can both go straight to the pit of hell."
I giggle about this as I am singing along, back in the car.
I feel so fucking good. The car, the music, the life.
Thank you, whoever, whatever. How ever I got this gift, thank you.
* Voodoo Lady, Ween
� Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, The Police
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