Straight No Chaser

Endless Love

beautiful night. the days are shorter now but the temperature's climbed fifteen degrees since last week. stefan desperately needs gas but he got me where i needed to go tonight, which was nice, obnoxiously blasting dave matthews as rock star, a.k.a. "hunger for the great light of love." which, pardon me, but for all the dirty ho references, has a strange enduring appeal.

it was the highlight of the houston concert, i have to say, even though it is far from one of my favorites. but they did this fabulous thing with the lights and the amps, because it's a song with two layers: kind of a gritty-smooth intro ("oh great light of love, oh great light of love") with faux-harmony between dave and, i guess, boyd? and then, abruptly, tremendously raunchy headbanger climax ("i want to be your hunger, i want to see you open wide, and when i go down for you, i want to blow your mind"). so the lights went this soft yellow for the beginning part, great light of love, and then garish red for the climax, passionate light of lust, or something. a good choice for the evening because i was kind of turned on, thinking about marcus stepping in alabama (they won! just got the phone call; he's exhausted but happy), and that song lets me exorcise something i don't get to, usually. banged head through entirety of drive to mcgill park.

musical reverie was interrupted for brief interaction with the austell boys.

then, on the way home, i tried the radio (something i rarely do because i have way too many cds to feel justified not spending every minute listening to one of them), and i got william devaughn, lucky me, "diamond in the back, sunroof top, diggin' the scene with a gangsta lean...you may not have a car at all, but brothers and sisters, do stand tall" (i am mangling the order of the words but you get the idea), which is perfect because i was feeling deeply in love with stefan at that point, thankful for how cooperative he's been since the semicoastal transplant, marveling at the simplistic wonder of the car radio. i have a car but not a cadillac; there's no diamond in the back but the sunroof works fine; i am NOT stuck on campus anymore, and it has made a world of difference.

here, you, go you dirty girl. i do not often write to coltrane, but i think i'm going to tonight. i am experiencing some sort of creative mania; two stories and a collage are fighting for space in what little remains of my night.

i always always forget how intensely a good musical experience can lift my spirits.

it might also be that i slept late today because, four o'clock though it is, i am bouncing off the walls, wondering rather incredulously where everyone is, when the answer is obvious: they are asleep, as i should be. my dad sent me about a thousand text messages today, each one reminding me to go to chapel tomorrow morning; he thinks i need to pray for myself, because of something that happened earlier this week. i couldn't agree more. but i don't have to go to chapel to do that.

we've reached that rather ethereal segment of jill scott's "gotta get up," where the women start moaning. this is a highly celestial song. i don't think i could even give it a proper listen during daylight.

check me out, i'm british now.

and crashing fast. i know it's a good day when i want to sleep as soon as my head touches the pillow. and a better one when i have to fight sleep for a chance to write everything down first.

here's hoping this entry is coherent, when i read it tomorrow.