I get some things now, that before, I didn't.
For instance, the power of music. The Grouch/Zion I show at Nectar last night made me extraordinarily happy. I wasn't in the best of moods going in--I was tired from a trip, and cranky about some perceived injustice--and it wasn't just that I hearted the beats, although they were expectedly tight.
There's just something amazing about a sold-out show, a skillful groove, a club packed with (mostly) happy people eagerly singing along and getting their swerve on. I drank cheap beer and crowd-surfed, met a guy just out of jail, a slew of Canadians ecstatic about scoring backstage passes, danced crazily with a wasted friend-of-a-friend.
All this and yet--I'm lonely sometimes. A lot of times. I wish for an amour and realize that it's no one's concern but my own. We are all alone, no matter who is with us.
And so, confusion becomes understanding, and beneath flows the same undercurrent as before.