Music doesn’t do all that much for me.

I look at you music gurus and your obsession confuses me. You become transfixed, transformed – a life without music for you is a death sentence. You post the latest videos on Facebook, you pay that big money for the concerts and pride yourself on staying on top of all the underground artists.

You make me sick.

Not as sick as those reality tv show whores but still, like a horrible story that won’t end you feed music to me as if I think about it in the same way that you do – stop. I liked the song but it didn’t change my life and I won’t pay more than .99 cents for it.

I feel bad….

Do you read?

Sometimes, when I follow the words down the page of a book, the rooms gets really quiet as if the author is personally telling me their story. The emotional ups and downs, the development of characters, the flow of themes and prose is so loud that I have to put the book down so that my imagination catches us to the story line. It’s like some weird cranial orgasm. How do they write so well? Makes you shiver.

Is that how music is for you?