The beat of the drum is the beat of my heart.

I love music.

Actually, to say I love music is putting it lightly. Music is my life. Not performing has been like living a half-life for me since J left back to Ohio.

I have lyrics pouring out of every hole in my body. They ebb and flow like a river through my skin, but I can't use them. They're just pretty words because I can't write the notes to make it work.

I know music theory because I studied in my stint in college. I own an electric guitar, I've had it for years and I tried to teach myself how to play it but I just couldn't get the hang of it so I gave up and the guitar resides in the trunk of my car with my little amp screaming to be played. My hands just feel so clumsy and small to play any notes at all. The frets seem like giants. I really need to get the hang of it because I have my own ideas of what I want my songs to sound like and when I let other people write the notes it comes out completely different. Like with J... I love plexi, don't get me wrong, but J would put every song in the Plexi blender. I'm not Michael and I'm not going to sing like him. It sounded foreign. I make my own sound, I'm not going to be a carbon copy of anyone.

I'm aching to make music. It feels like the little alien babies that popped out of Sigourney Weaver in "Ailen" are residing in my chest. I need somewhere to put these lyrics.

I guess I better take the guitar out of the trunk and try, try again.