Peek-aboo, Oh I want to sing…No, I want to write…though I want to chat. Can’t do all—without inspiration, can’t do any. Circles. I’ve been turning in endless circles on myself, chasing my own tail. And sometimes catching it. Then berating it for be such a loser. Imagine my tail allowing itself to get caught—even by me. So I admonish myself to just stop chasing and stop losing out to myself. I drove to work today just living for the music. Literally, music was in my ears and on my mind, and I thought even worth dying for, defending if the need arose against a future nightmarish cultureless music-less oppressive status quo. Certainly I was high but I didn’t know why. Then I thought of you. You, too, I thought would live and die for the music. You, truer in this than I. For the music that you had given me was right, stealing my heart away from the commonplace and trite, easing me melodically through many nights. And the music of the morning was sweeter yet. And this was all I energized all day: ~~~Shaggy - Angel~~~ Girl, you're my angel, you're my darling angel Closer than my peeps you are to me, baby Shorty, you're my angel, you're my darling angel Girl, you're my friend when I'm in need... ~~~~~~ I love the music. Love, love, love, the music. And when before I die I go senseless, on that great day, it’s all I wanna hear.