NIN, Closer (Downward Spiral): I am trying to decompress.  My thoughts for today and the last few weeks have been a mess of eat, consume, fleeting thoughts of sex, and a desire to do bodily harm.  Thankfully I am older and wiser otherwise at least one person over the past few weeks would have gotten a serious kick to the shin.  At least twice: once to cause a bruise and the second time to kick that bruise.  Back when I was much younger I was a very angry and yes, I will admit to it, a violent man.  Fighting was something I did and did well.  I learned over time to channel that anger and violence into more productive pursuits. For example, I ended up teaching women self-offense for a while.  Those were fun times.

Nothing like having a woman, a pissed off woman, coming at you with fist, knees, feet, and even a chair.  Still the lesson was learned, get angry enough and you will loose self-control.  Lose self-control and you will get hurt more than you hurt someone else.  Although at the time of the chair flying past my head I was wondering about the lesson myself.

NIN, Reptile (Downward Spiral): My children have not learned after eight and five years respectively that when I have the headsets in and the keyboard at my fingertips that I am not paying attention…to them.  Hold on a sec…nope no blood.  Where was I?  Over dinner with Paul and Barb the conversation turned to how Paul had never seen me this frustrated before, so Barb told him a Nathan story.  Everyone who is ever around me long enough has a Nathan story. I like to think of them as warning labels or parables.

The last time I had ever gotten this frustrated was when I was in college for the second time, taking a stress and relaxation course.  Yes, a stress and relaxation course stressed me out to the point of breaking.   This instructor would show up in flip flops, a Hawaiian shirt, and a bad blond wig.  Then he would make us sit in the dark and listen to relaxing noises, whales farting or some shit like that.  Then came the hypnotism lesson, and then the we should all hold hands lesson and on and on it went.  I have my own pace.  I have my own ebb and flow.  I am in control.  I relax my own way.  This for whatever reason set my very nerves on fire and I wanted to kick him as well.  I even made plans to steal his relaxing whales farting and replace the CD with Ministry’s A Mind Is A Terrible Thing to Taste album.  That is what relaxes me.

Paul like everyone else found my getting so wound up by a stress and relaxation class very funny.  I do as well…now.

The Prodigy, Breathe (The Fat of the Land): Deep inhale.  Hold…and release as the music hits the crescendo.  NIN is good for introspection or fucking.  Breathe is good for just letting the brain crank up to high gear.  As you can see I am just venting the brain out on whatever the music brings to mind.  Sorry if this is not your cup of tea or if you wanted to know more…just ask questions.  I say that a lot and I mean that, if you want to know anything about me, just ask I have yet to be asked a question that I won’t answer. I have been asked a few that I couldn’t answer at the time, but as soon as I had an answer I got back with them.

Times like this when I am feeling all…cranky, itchy, bitchy, fighty, that I wished we still went dancing.  Hell I wish there was a place to go dancing.  Nothing as satisfying as a night, four hours or more of drinking beers and flailing around on the dance floor to angry music.  That bone tired feeling with just enough amped up energy left over to fuck hard and then fall asleep.  We used to go dancing three nights a week.  I would dance so hard sometimes that I would pull muscles. There was one time I pulled a muscle in my neck so bad that I could not turn my head left for two weeks, but I could still slam dance.  Got to prioritize.

Ministry, Burning Inside (A Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Taste): Slam dancing at an industrial club is one thing.  Try slam dancing at a college bar.  I have it is a lot of fun.  College kids think they know so much, are so fucking cool, and well…they have so much to learn, such as the guy who is wearing fatigues, combat boots, a T-shirt that says “FUCK ME” on the front and “THEN LEAVE” on the back who has the sides of his head shaved and hair down to his ass is not to be fucked with.  Nope the never learned, but the bouncers, DJs and club owner certainly did and would have fun.

As long as I arrived an hour before the peak time they would play music for me, no techno music, but straight up industrial music.  This college club was usually the thump, thump of shitty techno, but for an hour three nights a week the sounds of industrial music could be heard.  For that hour the dance floor was MINE!  Dance with me at your own peril as the young couple learned.  The opening rifts of Closer had just come on, and I crawled down to the dance floor.  Yes, crawled.

Then I began to Marilyn Manson, Sweet Dreams (Lest We Forget) gyrate with the song.  Giant pelvic thrusts to “I want to fuck you like an animal.” Then I noticed a man on one side of me and a young woman on the other.  I have no idea how they got there, but they were trying to dance around me.  She was cute and I was…well I always feel NIN…I gestured her way and then began the nastiest pelvic thrusting I could to Closer.  What she did not know, was that the DJ had lowered the video screen and was broadcasting to the whole bar this scene.  She turned sheet white, hands to face, bright red flame of embarrassment, and her man…well he didn’t know what to do.  I love that song.

And the one time a frat decided that they wanted my dance floor and thought that by doing their frat guy dance in a cluster around me would work…well they didn’t see the table of twenty other people with me.  I remember Korn coming on and I bumped into one guy, and then another, all wearing those same inspid lettered clothing, doing the “guy dance” around me.  They kept getting closer until one got an elbow to the nose and another got a kick to knee and then my party guests mobbed the dance floor. By the end of the song I was alone on the floor for some White Zombie. Marilyn Manson, Lunchbox (Lest We Forget): NEXT MOTHER FUCKER IS GOING TO GET MY METAL!

Such a fun opening to a song.  So where was I? Oh yeah remembering that there are no clubs to go dancing to around here and I haven’t been dancing in close to 10 years now. Don’t think my body could handle the gyrations…oh but the memories.  Do I miss the angry me?  No, but times like this semester he peeks his head out to say hi and remind me why I found other ways to satisfy him.  Speaking of which, I hear Grand Theft Auto calling.

Velvet Acid Christ, Fun With Drugs (Decypher): As I said above I have found other ways of channeling that angry young man still inside me. I know I feel a lot better now, you learned more about me you didn’t want to know including some music I listen too.