bare emotion expressed in grease paint, enormous PVC tubes, tolerable drumming, and the prettiest girl in a conical electro-strobe hoop skirt...

... and a voice like Caruso's granddaughter

I Feel Love

That's love. C'est la vie (after some life form or at least it's fetal offspring has died to provide you a meal).

Following is libido which, as my old friend Mitch Richmond said, "is the raw ability to give a damn":

and get your back into your living

Well, it's kinda hard to make babies if you can't get your back into your livin', seewuddahmean? And making babies is THE ultimate giving of damnage ever thar wuz. Even God had to use His Only Begotten Son to show the world he really cared.

Life's like that. Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be Messiahs.

These serve as a testament to limbic biochemistry and the perils of prescribed drugs.

In my case, SSRIs which, I think, almost killed me. As a lifelong alcoholic, who am I to judge? I am whom knows that a hangover only lasts a day while SSRI withdrawal can last months. I oughta write a book, as they say, but I won't. Maybe I'll publish research and opinion on this bloggie, though.

And yes, Tracy Bonham is excellent, but the Girl in the Flickering Skirt (Annette Strean) is ice cream in bed.

Sadly, her throat experienced 'fold nodule' problems and she had to seek speech therapy and learn to sing again.