Feeling: released
Listening to: Audioslave - Set it Off
Reading/Watching: Roberson series finished: in search of reading material...

Have I mentioned lately how much music completely owns me?

Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor can reduce me to shaky knees and a newfound determination to marry an organist. (In case you were wondering, it's the one that always reminds people of haunted houses.) Seeing a rock singer in concert makes me want to unbutton his shirt with my teeth (ahem, Rob Thomas, Brandon Boyd, Chris Cornell, Pat Monahan, Chris Martin). The one thing that made me all googly-eyed for Chris, my very first boyfriend in highschool, was the way he played the piano. Harry won my heart on our first date after improvising on his guitar for three minutes. The common denominator for all my longer-than-five-minute crushes of the past four years? Musicians. Every bloomin' one of them.

Yeah. I'm basically music's helpless panting drooling groupie loveslave.

Tonight was a night for spinning and dancing, so of course I locked my door, turned up Audioslave, and proceeded to thrash about like a frog in a tumble dryer.

It just feels so, so good, to let your entire being sink into the sounds and lose all consciousness of the world beyond the beat, the voice, the fury, the love, the motion, the power of it. It's all about the whirling, crashing, crazed harmonies and my complete inability to hold still while it fills me to my fingertips.

I've been thinking too much, worrying too much, paralyzing myself with fear and doubt while I analyze everything to death. Tonight was all about enjoying wild, simple, separate moments.

Nevermind how the rest of my day was, like oversleeping my alarm, slamming my finger in the car door, nearly falling asleep in play practice, Nimsay's John forgetting to take us to see Matrix Revolution, and yet another person (a guy, this time) who barely knows me sitting me down for the talk: "Katie, you're such a sweet girl. Why don't you have a boyfriend? We should work on finding you one."

So here I am, dancing like a mental patient in a turbine while laundry runs, and later there will be sleeeeeep.

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