So here I am...headphones on. Lipstick off. Wine gone. Head bobbing. Feet synched to the drums.
It's heaven. (Meat Loaf: Bat Out of Hell)
Earlier, I was working at beading. Fingers out of control. Beads all over the bedspread. Four different pliers, each of which had a mind of its own. Memory wire that only remembers that it hates me. Hunched back and clenched teeth. That was hell.(Harmonium: Pour un Instant)
I actually know in advance that beading is going to be frustrating, and that I'll have to look in my music library for Bach and Beethoven to keep me from heaving the whole batch of tools of the devil across the room. Why do I do it? Because I used to be able to. It's why I crochet, continue to slide make-up over the wrinkles, buy slim-leg jeans, floss my teeth and read every minute in between. (Meat Loaf: I Testify)
So, given that I do those things because I used to could, why am I never in the kitchen trying to put together a nutritious meal which I could serve on some dishes that still match and enjoy with my dear heart? Why am I not down in the gym pounding hell out of the elliptical cross-trainer? Why have I become a passenger in my own car? (Evanescence: Whisper)
Because I'm only true to myself when I feel like it. Heaven again!(Rush: Closer to the Heart)