my head is about to explode.

that feeling of ones head about to explode, it's a good feeling I think.

This Herman Hesse, he must have been wicked smart. I feel like his words have more meaning than they let on, well, the translator's words...it's like he's dancing around me smiling and laughing as I try to keep up with his movements--it's quite embarrassing.

Music feels like this, it rushes forwards and, while I can enjoy the moments of music, I cannot glean any lasting meaning from them, but I know these moments are simply packed full. Every moment is like some microcosm of the universe, but I can't hold onto it; it's meaning slips away as fast as it moves on. I can repeat a line over and over, thinking every time "oh, now I have it", but at the end, each time, I don't.

Only music that I like, or that somehow "resonates" with me, does this. I sit happily thinking "yes, yes yes, oh yes" as if I'm simply agreeing with some obvious statement, but the language I'm hearing makes no real/conscious sense, but I understand it, at the moment, just the same. I’m positive that the reason for this is in the patterns of the music, but that sounds so dry. These patterns aren’t just bland mathematical intrigues for the calculating brain—they are this, but not just this—they are also…something else, I don’t know.

*fart*