Edge Walking Again
Previous - this entry written on March 15, 2003 at 5:34 pm - Next


Scream, shout, holler, it doesn't make any difference. Frustration, impatience. I wanted to be there, I wanted to do something to make him smile, to make ME smile. Proud and eager, and nothingness is what's left. Sober, too... ignore the writing style, I've just downloaded a ton of techno. This bites - I can get Kazaa to work but can't get into my email, can get AOHell but not MSN, and in short am irritated.

let her go, don't question her

Dancing internally, not the bounce of a live band or the sweet pace of a court dance but the twisting pulsing internal unending ache of a late-night rave when the whole world fades into sparkles and lust and sound that never seems to really change, only always a heartbeat and a knifeblade and movement. Forever, always, what does that mean? Yeah, listening to Tricky. Got a lot more of it. Also, if you have never heard it, look for "Sandstorm" by Darude, the full version is nearly 7 minutes long and well worth hearing. Techno. Yeah. And not techno. And other stuff.

Where do I go when I turn myself off from the world, spiraling out as far as I can reach? Here, into the words and the sound. Hell is around the corner, they tell me, but I think I've already found it, dancing on the razor edge of the gateway into unending...

...trance...

...sweet silver chiming, echoes of long-dead poetry that makes me blush and stammer and pretend it wasn't me, nothing else. Music. Ache.

I refer to it as an ache because that's what it IS, like the ache in your belly when you're desperately hungry or the ache in your heart when your lover leaves. It's deep, it's impossible to completely ignore, and it's painful real. Doesn't mean it's not beautiful too, of course. I seek it out, this music-bloodflow, letting it keep me awake and dreaming.

Hard.

Fast.

Sweet.

Sharp.

Deadly.

Perfect.

I live for music, some days. Days when there's nothing else to really live FOR. And the rest of the time?

The rest of the time, I'm just existing until another song comes around the corner and fills my body with a spark I can't really call my own.

Desperate craving. Addictions are gnawing, and the sounds at least take the edge off. Caffeine, Vicodin, Prednisone, Sugar, Meat, Sex, Sleep, screw it all and take it away, today I feed only on what I can pull from the speakers and the soul.

For now, anyway.

I hate being forgotten.

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