Later, when I introduced drugs to my brain, The Doors, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and The Grateful Dead dominated my small peach-walled bedroom while I lay on my waterbed, letting the music lead the way while I got lost in my head. That was high school.

Once I got my own car, I had an even smaller space in which to envelop myself in my music.  Totally alone and enclosed I could turn up the volume and sing my atonal heart out. That's still pure joy.

In countless road trips and travels abroad by myself, surrounded by strangers and general newness, music was always the best comfort. A Walkman on a plane, bus, or train, or in a new living arrangement was like closing the doors to those around me. If I didn't want to hang out with them, or was homesick, I just had to wrap myself in a warm blanket of music. Don't make fun of me, or do, but in my traveling years, Squirrel Nut Zippers, Dave Matthews Band, Fiona Apple, Sublime and G Love and Special Sauce were popular with me. I have since met G Love. He's a dick. Whatever, those guys were good to me for a time.

After the traveling years, I had a relationship, and sadly, I think during that time I don’t remember having time alone with my old friend, Music.  When single hood came back, so did she. And it was dancing alone in my apartment with my solid, on-my-side girl, Music. You know, getting strong and all that shit.

On the for real tip, music is a healer. And listening to it by yourself is cathartic. Whatever your mood, picking out the accompanying songs to match it, or change it, she always comes through.

These days, vinyl is my muse. The ritual of listening to records is reminiscent of childhood. Here's a nugget for ya; my first record ever was a 45' of Elton John duet with Kiki Dee singing, "Don't Go Breaking My Heart." Don't know it? That's okay. You're not missing anything. I also got a Def Leppard “Pyromania” cassette tape at my 6^th or 7^th birthday party one year. Which whas cool, (OOM TAC MEEPEN OUTEN MOPEN. I’m not sure that’s the right spelling… What the hell was that anyway, The Deutsch or something? Anyone who knows, please answer in the comment box below).

As I was saying, about the vinyl. I love it long time. It's delightful precisely because you have to get all up in the mix, flippin' albums, cleaning the records, being careful with the needle placement. When you get it right in the groove it’s a tiny victory. Man, people have gotten awful lazy with their damn CD multi-changers. Yeah, alright, I have one, and use it, but shut-up.

 The more wine I drink, the more I ramble, even when writing. Let me get the fuck on with it. If you're still reading this you're either really bored wherever you are, or I'm hella charming.

You know the questions James Lipton asks on “Inside the Actor’s Studio,” when he asks those inane questions and one of them is what’s your favorite curse word. Mine’s “Christ.” I’m sure that’s appalling, But it’s simply true. Has a nice ring to it. But I digress…

That’s why Music gets an ode to her. It is so well deserved. And a big Thank you to that big old gift to humanity that music is. For realsies.

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