Oct. 15, 2003 @ 4:07 a.m.

Can a tenant get evicted for blasting random assortments of music at unreasonable volumes at 11:23 p.m. on Tuesday nights? Lately I can’t get enough music, can’t collect enough soundtracks to memories because with each event gone by I need something new to attach it to. Some recordings now have multiple slots for mental visions stacked among the mpeg details that show up on the face of my fancy CD player as the dolphins swim by under the rushing winds over my sunroof. "I never thought I'd have dolphins!" Right now, the best feeling in the world is when I’m returning home from her, shades resting over my eyes, music blaring from the depths of my car and the tips of my hair strands flapping with slight beheaded resistance. So much good music has been ruined or tainted with the bruises from the back of my memory. The whole How to Start a Fire album by Further Seems Forever reminds me of Boston. Allister is our band and will always have some twinge of Emily melted into it. Starting Line and Early November provided the soundtrack on my travels to Denver marking a beautiful taste in my mouth that comes flooding back anytime I play the words again. Alkaline Trio and his voice reminds me of how music’s face changed yet again, this time being the most vivid of them all, with my eyes pried open with toothpicks perched in my eyelids. I always loved music but never like this. I’m turning into the biggest self-expressionist movement since the Impressionists and I’m doing it single handedly. I have my hands in everything creative that I can. “You’re so artsy.” She said, having no idea how ironic that statement was. If I lost self-expression, it would equal a blind man loosing his Braille map and walking cane.