I practically left my mouth open while listening to the Devil Station and now it hurts to talk. The skin between my lips and my cheeks are twitching, as if the sounds summoned a little electrical discharge on my skin tissues.
They're dancing on their own, those things under my skin.
Anyway, said radio station had a guitar-playing DJ with purple braces airing to the "public", a "public" which was comprised of only one listener, enabled by the wonders of computer-calling. But I'm guessing one to one is a better proportion as opposed to one to a million.
I don't think I've ever been happier over having to listen to the radio. That was the Devil Station after all. It's more of a private radio station, without intentions of selling out or advertising anti-dandruff shampoos. And its DJ, with an ever-changing voice that is most of the time unrecognizable, was of course awesome, for so many reasons. (Or had I written that already?)
God, the night was nothing short of marvelous. The whole shebang was another night of this year I couldn't not put into written record. Because I don't get a lot of these nights. Another proof for the fourth paragraph of my previous post, Wicked Happiness.
But still I constantly wonder what's going to happen next year, when all of this becomes nothing more than a "thing of the past". Most of us will still be living in the same picture, the same scene but the times would have changed us. Some of us might not find interest in the color purple six months from now. I might stop blogging six months from now. Nobody knows who we'll be or what we'll do after the flurry that is time.
I'd hate the thought of that. So I'll dismiss it for now. I still have two months worth of privilege to call this a "thing of the present".
They're dancing on their own, those things under my skin.
Anyway, said radio station had a guitar-playing DJ with purple braces airing to the "public", a "public" which was comprised of only one listener, enabled by the wonders of computer-calling. But I'm guessing one to one is a better proportion as opposed to one to a million.
I don't think I've ever been happier over having to listen to the radio. That was the Devil Station after all. It's more of a private radio station, without intentions of selling out or advertising anti-dandruff shampoos. And its DJ, with an ever-changing voice that is most of the time unrecognizable, was of course awesome, for so many reasons. (Or had I written that already?)
God, the night was nothing short of marvelous. The whole shebang was another night of this year I couldn't not put into written record. Because I don't get a lot of these nights. Another proof for the fourth paragraph of my previous post, Wicked Happiness.
But still I constantly wonder what's going to happen next year, when all of this becomes nothing more than a "thing of the past". Most of us will still be living in the same picture, the same scene but the times would have changed us. Some of us might not find interest in the color purple six months from now. I might stop blogging six months from now. Nobody knows who we'll be or what we'll do after the flurry that is time.
I'd hate the thought of that. So I'll dismiss it for now. I still have two months worth of privilege to call this a "thing of the present".
