Those sounds the guitar make produce images of trailing fires in my head, changing through a spectrum of colors depending on the intensity, and there is a story told that has a texture that's soothing and scathing at the same time.
And bass produces images of warm, crackling semi-solids that suddenly materialize like fireworks and swirl with a lava-like fluidity and move and dissipate and another story is told of a different type, of rhythm and texture, and this story interacts with the guitar's story and the two mix like paints and produce new fascinating colors.
And the drums shake up the images with that old primary beat.
Yeah, music tells a story of sound and rhythm and induced imagery and it feels great to get lost in it.
And white wine tastes great outside with the low afternoon sun lighting up the trees and the gnats and flies are buzzing in the grass and mixing with the dust and there is so much texture to behold with a buzzing head.
And sometimes they all combine and it is as if there is another life layered on top that one can climb to in order to escape that tangled undergrowth of maddened creatures fighting one another for some prize that I don't yet understand.
It all makes me forget that we are running out of money.
