Woke Up, Got Out of Bed, Dragged a Comb Across My Head

Sometimes on a Thursday evening all you need is a little Explosions in the Sky:

There's something special about a rock band that can hold their audience for an entire concert without ever saying a word. Perhaps it's because words can get in the way of the raw emotion that we are capable of drawing out of these lifeless instruments. Perhaps it's because when there are no words, people write their own stories to the melodies.

Maybe it's because people just want to get lost in the music and not know which way is up and which way is down. I'm not sure what type of music does that for you, but I hope that you have found it. Music has this way of getting inside of our bones and reviving a day that seemed lost or connecting people who would never think about speaking to one another.

It has a way of waking me up to everything that is around me. The pain, the beauty, the disappointment, the hope, all of it. It reminds me of friends that are far away and friends that are nearby. I am reminded of lost loves and those that are to come. It makes me think of my Dad strumming his guitar. It makes me think of my Mom singing in church.

Maybe Kerouac's jazz musician in On The Road was really doing something amazing. Maybe he really was "filling empty space with the substance of our lives." Maybe.