repost to new account from September 14th
As Hurricane Florence carves her path through the Carolinas and Typhoon Mangkhut beats down on the Philippines, I'm somewhere in between listening to Kings Crossing on repeat. As the music swells I feel it enter into my veins and course though my body like no other song I've listen to, loved. It's a dangerous game I play, like dancing on the edge of a black hole. The substance in my blood is magnetized and it pulls me toward that darkness. It's exhilarating to flirt with oblivion, but at the same time I'm reminded of the times I slipped, fell, almost didn't make it back alive.
I love seeing others completely enraptured by music. The people drumming on bus stops, singing in their cars, visibly so lost in their private concert that the rest of the world disappears, and all of their self consciousness with it. All that matters is being thoroughly immersed in the sound. There's both a freedom and a vulnerability in allowing in music that moves us to such a depth while in public spaces that should be embraced.
It's often while in the path of my own hurricane, or its silent eye, that I need to feel a specific artist, a particular song, coursing through me. Something that can take me close to the edge of that black hole, something that I grasp onto to ride through the storm.