Sunday, September 24, 2017

The Control Room

Photo illustration courtesy of Geralt on Pixabay.
Sitting here at my computer, listening to conversations going on out in the yard below and back though the french doors, from the kitchen, which sits across the semi-lit gulf of dining room that separated me in my study from the conversation I had just momentarily parted from.

Scrolling down through my music, I hit upon Wilco, and have a sort of moment of Zen as everything all around me connects through the music I play, and I feel slightly outside of it all, on a parallel plane, sitting at the helm of the control room of the universe.

I play "Radio Cure," which feels in my gut the right song for that exact moment, the thoughts all swishing through my brain floating on my office chair on the waves of a deep red lake of Merlot, the wine class sky distorting the world outside in a sort of hazy otherworldly blur, and I smile, the notes of the song falling all around me, like a misty rain, warm in my sunlit face, closing my eyes as I look up in the vast open eternity beyond the illusion of blue skies and clouds... The song climaxes, the hairs on my arms standing as the rush of sonic pleasure runs through me,"Our distance has the way of making our love understandable" soaring...

My mind drifts back to my physical surroundings, the dark of the night, the fluttering voices broken by the occasional outbreak of laughter. I let the album play on, grab a handful of cigars from the humidor on my desk and absorb into the rushing current.