completely fixated on MUSIC: making it, recording it, listening to it, reading about it, thinking about it, writing about it, seeing it, dreaming about it, talking about it. 100 % obsessificated. My mits and ears can't get enough of it--looking for records and critical texts, clutching onto them and gobbling them up like some kind of tweaked audiophile squirrel. Yes yes!! Touch it. Smell it. Love it!! Perhaps it's because my love of music no longer has to play second fiddle to school[Art] work? Am I high on the novelty and freedom of making whatever the hell I feel like whenever the morbid neon magic of the completely insane Mayhem Muse pulls my hair?? You bet your sweet socks I am, shortcake! I feel like I can hardly stay put in my own skin--that if I'm not singing or scribbling words to sing later that I will, in fact, EXPLODE. (((We've got creative vibrations on full blast and high frequency!))) The Weird Hypnotic Voodoo Gods of Rock are up from the grave, out of the ether, on the record player and in my brainz. No cure for it. One thing is for sure--no more coffee.On that note-- off to practice!
Tell me, kittens: What are you obsessed with?
*Faking It: my latest fetish object. Read it. You'll love it.
Tell me, kittens: What are you obsessed with?
*Faking It: my latest fetish object. Read it. You'll love it.
No comments:
Post a Comment