the most beautiful thing: bobblehead
A late late night of good, young bands and sweet-tart tomfoolery have me teetering along in these heels today, my head bobbing along for the ride a little too placidly. What is it about sleep deprivation combined with intense sense stimulation that has given me and I dare assert us a superior sensitivity to our surroundings? I am tired as all get out, but the beauty in the sounds, the revving inertia of the down-shift, the bouncy sifted light off the clouds, even the perverted delight in the near-crushing cynicism of corporate bureaucracy has a rare boost today.
On first thought, I suppose it is the lack of energy to maintain the usual cognitive and therefor sensory buffer that leaves us a little wider open to what is pouring in, much like a post-concussive patient. I also suppose that within my exhaustion I am just more relaxed and so are not mentally or physically bracing against what comes towards me. I do feel a bit more porous, transparent.
However, I like to think it is simply that an intense experience of any kind fills our veins with liquid energy that lubricates receptors and wets the appetite for more. Beauty, if we let it, can be addictive and today I feel like a beauty junkie. Whether from the stripped away tolerance, the relaxation, or the jones, I’ll take it.
Then I’ll go take a beautiful… nap.