That's when I hit my stride. I suppose it's like runner's high, endorphins are released, sweat coats and drips, and I'm reminded why I love doing this. Some people use meditation or prayer to find their center, to bring them peace. I drum. My hearing is shot from years of constant punishment. But there's nothing like the audible fuzz that hangs on after I'm done playing. My body's reluctance to let go of the music. It coats the inside of my skull like cobwebs when I walk to the kitchen to replenish lost liquids. On nights like this, I play to exhaustion...and then I play a little longer.
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