70
June 27, 2017 - 198 words
A hundred years ago I wasn’t alive and in a hundred years I won’t be alive. It’s like I have a short window of time to share this planet with a couple people who happened to come in at the same time as me and we’re just moving right along to the end of the stage and getting in line to get out because people behind me are crowding up the line, crowding it up, hurry up sing your song because others are waiting.
Or
I don't have a lot of friends who take pictures.
Or
These piles of people moving around in some awesome tube of fun and sound as if they live in the music. Pounding rhythms and bass glitching like a shitty HTML email except nobody cares and the fluid grooves move through us and find life in the lizard monkey brain that comes out and explodes in the flashing lights and whirling globes. Yeah it's hilarious but everyone's got a mask on, the mask of the ecstatic dance which protects you in the sound tunnel where time actually becomes a thing of the past until that voice inside reminds you: uhhh gotta work tomorrow.