Frames per second

When I began my blog, it was an attempt to consciously change my way of thinking and choices in life. I wanted to always err on the side of the abundant, the full, the plenty, the expansive – to try as hard as I could to get as much out of life  I knew I hadn’t been and I knew that I needed a constant reminder (the blog) in order to manifest these ideas in the day-to-day.

Last Thursday was such a perfect example of the old internal tussle. I was on the brink of the worst case of tonsillitis anyone in the world has ever experienced (with simply no exaggeration what so ever!) and I had tickets to this gig. I ummmed and ahhhhed for so damn long about whether I should bother going, but always this voice on my left-hand shoulder urged me towards, ‘the glass half full.’ Of course, I should go, I love the music to death and I knew that the experience was potentially enriching. I’d seen Hansard’s band , The Frames, play a few years ago and it was up there in top Francesca musical experiences.

The voice on my right-hand shoulder (the skinny, miserly dude whose nose is constantly running and whose coat is threadbare, was telling me that ‘ain’t nothing goin’ to be enriching when you feel like total shit. Fact Mama, you’re gonna feel a whole lot worse at the end.’)

Lordy, lordy. Somehow, the idea of escaping this internal dialogue meant getting out of the house. I knew I’d stop thinking about it if I just got out of there (even if I regretted it later).

Of course I had no regret. I was never going to regret it. It ain’t possible to regret something like this. I’m not going to try and give a review of this gig. I don’t have the language and I will undersell and under play the pure magic that these guys create. It is magic. Powerful magic. And the joy of attending was intensified when The Frames walked on to support these two. A double whammy. Oh Lord, my glasseth was a’overflowin’.

I’m glad that my glass is filling up even more these days. It helps giving the right-hand shoulder guy a plastic bag to put over this head. Yes, I was sicker the next morning. Yes, I felt like death warmed up. But as I shuffled slowly along the street to the doctor’s surgery, the music playing in my head made all that that crap a-ok.

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