To give it some credit, it did cry “sacre bleu! Invaders!” by letting slip a host of really strange side effects, the most notable being that I had a pretty persistent case of “DILLIGAF?” about every conceivable thing. At first I thought maybe it was just empathy fatigue, but then I realized I didn’t really feel anything about anything. Even trying to get up a good frothing head of anger was like trying to start a fire using wet matches, and if I got it going, I couldn’t sustain it.

On the other hand, my body did allow the damn invader in to begin with. So my physical self and I haven’t been on the best of terms lately.

Yesterday, shortly after the offending object was removed, I got a peace offering.

I was driving down the road, listening to music, and I felt it: frisson. And then I felt it again. A tiny, physical manifestation of how beautiful the song was. Something my nervous system, while under siege, forgot it could do.

I just hope I can avoid going too far in the other direction. Few things in life will make one feel as foolish as openly weeping at Tiny Dancer.

Advertisements