Warning: excessive use of hyperbole ahead.
Also, falling rocks.
THIS PAST SATURDAY I WENT TO THE BEST CONCERT OF MY LIFE.
And yet I feel tongue-tied trying to communicate how absolutely earth-shatteringly awesome this experience truly was.
As such, everything inside of me is screaming USE YOUR SWEARS USE THEM ALL USE ALL THE SWEARS.
But I won’t.
So it’s hard.
But the question remains – how do I get you, dear reader, to feel that same exhilaration I felt stepping into that club?
How to make you feel that same energy, coursing the length of my body?
Tingling the ends of your fingertips? The dips of your earlobes?
Tickling the backs of your knees, slipping down into the folds of your shoes?
To hear the murmur of the crowd, a beehive of anticipation?
How do I make you crackle and snap with the electricity of it all, the flash of the lights, and the intensely, indescribably, intoxicating sounds careening off of the stage, permeating every last crook and cranny of the sweat-slicked, pulsating room?
How do I make you dance until your blistered, blisters cry nay command you not to stop, never stop, your mouth a perma-grin, a high school smirk stained with salty secrets, and the knowledge that all of this is so good, and all of this will never be so good.
So if I cannot do this, I will just say – GO TO HOT CHIP.
Elsewhere in the cosmic kitchen:
Tell me where you’ve been to
Nowhere that you shouldn’t do
Tell me what you’re good for
I can tell you something too.