The music plays itself, like some rogue muse has broken the spectrum and entered the room that I inhabit and begins creating things through the fingers on my hands. The feeling is indescribable, like some benevolent force has just turned off the lights and sent everyone home except me. The phone doesn't ring, the perception of time seems to deteriorate along with all outside interference. Maybe even my heart stops beating and my body ceases to function, only I don't realize it. The only sure thing is that at this moment, nothing else matters, no pondering the great mysteries of the universe, no fiscal dilemmas, thirst and hunger are nonexistent, and life is worth the price of admission. The only pressing matter is sound, namely achieving the perfect one by any means necessary. The window of my soul is open and the breeze feels wonderful, notes and phrases passing through occasionally accompanied by kick drums and leads. I can smell the bass line, it's funky and sweet at the same time, like a slice of France's finest washed-rind Boucheron cheese. My pupils are dilated and I feel overwhelmingly euphoric, but I haven't ingested any narcotics, barbituates, stimulants, or opiates. My heart-beat has changed to 1/4 at 160 BPM, ever so often adding a fill or a dramatic roll to break up the monotony. Like watching a time-elapsed camera view of a building under construction, the musical structure is taking shape quickly and without immediate supervision. Low-pass filters, envelope, effects, arpeggios, and LFO align like a constellation to form an interstellar composition. The naked eye can be used to view my newly-formed nebula, but any of the aforementioned substances will surely enhance the neurological impact that is sought. Precision isn't necessary, but greatly appreciated, as the music comes from a place that often concedes perfection for affection. Hearing is now as essential as breathing, although the two functions seem to be intertwined, and deep, slow breathing has produced a serene atmosphere within the confines of my skin. Erstwhile, my fingers feel like they are attached to strings and the puppeteer is ever so gently tugging away, gracefully inspiring the bones and ligaments to work in harmony. The path to enlightenment has been revealed and the way is...BANG BANG BANG..."What the fuck?", I say to myself as I am awaked and ardently approach my door...I open it..."Can you turn the music down? I'm trying to sleep downstairs!!!!", says my neighbor. "Sure, sorry to disturb you.", I respond and cut the music as I realize it's back to reality and paying bills and work, all the while festering negative thoughts about our stupid, ass-backward, money-grubbing society that is only getting worse. Just another day...
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