Hallelujah

In college I could take a tune deeper than the next girl, but something happened to this ability after working in the industry.  People often say if you work in an industry that you become numb to it, but I tend to think if you’re in something every single day you become numb to it anyway.  Maybe it was the Phish‘ers sitting with their oversized beanies, patchouli stench, and communal joint, that got me thinking of musical depth, or perhaps it was my second-hand high that just set me into an astral thought.

Maybe it’s Jeff Buckley’s secret chord, but I’m present.  My new therapist, yes I’m working on another book.  This has become my rite-of-passage during the write-myself-into-therapy seasons.  Luckily, this season was quality over quantity so it takes much less longevity to tattoo into my soul.  The new Psychiatric buzz is ‘disassociation‘, so I’m quite pleased that the tag was placed upfront.  I simply don’t have time to be looking up diagnosis codes in the DSM,  I really don’t.  Nonetheless, my therapist…we’ll call her Spinner (due to confidentiality I’m not allowed to use her real name.  You understand.)…Spinner told me I was damn lucky to have a writing outlet otherwise I would be a multiple.  We’re talking United States of Tara. I wish I would have known this years ago because I could have been Diablo-fucking-Cody!  Smart bitch, stealing my could be story.  I think Spinner and I connected enough that I’ll be seeing her steadily, and she’s been in it so long that she’s heard it all so my shock-value dilvulges only made her fingers shimmy in delight.  I must be secretly narcissistic too because she suggested someone write a book about me.  Hey, she’s the professional, not me.

Jeff Buckley’s voice makes me feel refined and appreciative of the vocal instrument, and for many years I have to admit to vocal discrimination; the voice is NOT an instrument.  I’ve long since changed my tune, though I still sing out of key; always a backup but never lead.

The Phishers, tonight at Madison, reminded me of myself and a few good hippies I met at school; the Carols, Matts, Michals, Buddhas, and Melissa.  I still listen to the music; just a little lower decibel, manifactured not natural additives, and on mute.  The real experience is catching the wave of feeling long enough to remember the view.

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