Life as an Extreme Sport

passages

Last night, and for the first time, I talked about and cried about my mother to another person – well, to a friend. (I’m pretty sure the one off counselor I tried to see when I realized things weren’t going well doesn’t count.) And as expected, I’m feeling rather weirdly raw and vulnerable this morning (my morning after’s are so much less interesting than other people, aren’t they?), but… I don’t know if better is the right word, but maybe looser? A little less tight, a little more relaxed. A little more like there might be a safety net if I fall.

Sort of related, I’ve realized lately how much I miss feeling music – I’ve been listening to very bass/drum heavy goth and industrial music in the car of late, making sure to rest my leg on the speaker, or have a hand on the roof (which is great for transmitting acoustics). It just feels better to feel the music, to experience it in body total. I think it’s something primally wired within us, because it occurred to me last night that it’s very similar to feeling a voice talk as you rest on someone’s chest.

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