Tonight, through the PlayStation I spun up the old records, or rather decoded a series of figurative ones and zeros like mosquitoes that leave you just skin and bone. Songs for the Deaf. Just like the other afternoon in the garage, I felt it. Something pulled me back to that old era that was Tanzen.
Wednesday was the first time that I'd plugged in with nobody to hold me back or tell me that I'll disturb the neighbors; the Audi next door wasn't in the driveway, a good omen. Fuck the neighbors. Every natural chord that I'd strum since leaving California, 01 May 2009, has been worth playing, but a muffled chorus wrought by the limits of its unaccompanied self. Over a year's worth of squelched soul was replayed through that amplifier, in its full glory and encompassing volume of vibration. The further I got, the less I knew. Deep in my heart, some force of discomfort has been tugging at me since leaving, that of a dream never fulfilled. Wednesday, that dull rumble cut with a jagged edge was the first stirring of Tanzen incarnate.
Come back another day, and do no wrong.
Wednesday was the first time that I'd plugged in with nobody to hold me back or tell me that I'll disturb the neighbors; the Audi next door wasn't in the driveway, a good omen. Fuck the neighbors. Every natural chord that I'd strum since leaving California, 01 May 2009, has been worth playing, but a muffled chorus wrought by the limits of its unaccompanied self. Over a year's worth of squelched soul was replayed through that amplifier, in its full glory and encompassing volume of vibration. The further I got, the less I knew. Deep in my heart, some force of discomfort has been tugging at me since leaving, that of a dream never fulfilled. Wednesday, that dull rumble cut with a jagged edge was the first stirring of Tanzen incarnate.
Come back another day, and do no wrong.
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