Waiting to callous

It is strange to notice a body part you sort of take for granted. Like the index fingers on both of my hands. I had no idea how hard I work those little guys. After a few hours of rockin' the bass in the "band" that is slowly forming in Toodles' practice space, I have HUGE blisters on the tips of each of my index fingers.

The weird part is though, I kind of like them, for two reasons:

1. I like the physical injury incurred during artistic expression and release. Sore muscles after dancing, an enlarged "writer's bump" on the middle finger, that patch of indigo that refuses to wash off your left ankle for days, etc.

2. Everything feels really good against the blistery part. There is a painfully thin barrier between pleasure and pain on these spots. If I scratch Paka's nose lightly, it feels really good. If I type furiously, then is ow, and double triple latte ow.

But it is so very worth it. I am starting to learn a lot about the bass, and subsequently the guitar. I am getting better at picking out baselines as I listen to music. It's still hard though, because I am a glutton for melody. And I still basically suck ass at the bass, but hey, we don't have any gigs scheduled for at least the next 6 to 8 months, so I have some time to practice.

In other news, my relationship/crush/physical contact fast is going badly. I have a BEEEEG crush. I am trying to put it down though. I don't know the person all that well, and I actually have yet to determine if they are gay or straight. And yes, I am speaking in non-gender specific terms, just because I can. So far though, things don't look to be going in my favor. It's been two days since "person" last emailed me, and as much as I want to email again, I know I gotta just play it cool. Ice cold. Ice cold.

Yeah, thanks Andre 3K.