Sweaty Story

Yesterday I got back from the AIP celebration, and I have to say, Yesterday was totally a "yo sup" kind of day. Very cool, very mentally relaxed.
Headbanging is so mentally relaxing. You couldn't do it if your mind was still running, because otherwise you'd be concentrating on the heat, the tiredness in your legs, the pain in your neck, and the lack of oxygen in the room. So you turn off your mind and jump like there's no manana. Hey, I wonder if banana was actually pronounced banyana before we americanized it (cool thought).
Of course the next day you wish you hadn't relaxed so much and had been a bit more responsible about the whole thing--you know, deciding on a moshing quota and getting someone to check you when you've had enough--so that you don't have to face the shattering pain in your neck (body) the next day.
I've got the weirdest sore muscle just below my shoulder. And it feels just plain creepy. Like, what was I doing to make that muscle sore? I must've been flinging my arm in some quasi way. God. Kathy Smith is totally focusing on all the wrong muscles.

Today I'm going to a party where I don't really know what I'll be doing. But I have to be smart and sleek and not let on to anyone that I am suffering all over on account of mindless moshing. On the other hand, I do also have this absolutely SHOT frog voice that I have to account for. My voice is hoarse from too much concern for impoverished Africans...too much stress over the state of our nation, society, youth, etc.

All that to say, MJM really rocked my socks. Red as an Indian, special fountain effects, "just noise", it all worked out quite well. <---man worship. Kick me, Aich.