'OK Computer'

I'm not leaving this place, not for a while.

I like being here under a navy painted sky, with accents of whites and grays. I take my brush and soften some of the lines to create more impact. But then, with some force, some acceleration, I use Pollock's drip technique. I sigh. Now, I can relax.

I have Radiohead's OK Computer with me. The music is all over me--on my skin, my hair, my clothes, my lips, in my blood. And suddenly the clouds look menacing but they keep a watchful eye which provides an eerie sort of comfort. I have no desire to paint these skies blue or pretend they can do better than what is. I know where the sun is hiding.

Let Down comes in like a gentle storm but with that mischievous east wind, I know what's lurking not too far behind. And then Yorke wails like he's in despair, like he's reaching for something too far beyond himself, like he's searching for someone who isn't there. I look up. I want that lightning to strike. Now would be a good time. I wait and I wait and I keep waiting. I yell, Just strike already. Be on purpose. Be what you are. Don't go half way. Thor, Zeus, Indra, whatever your name, roll those boulders across the sky. Fire the canons. Come on. I don't need your mercy.

I sit on a hill under my favorite tree in this open and endless field. In the far distance is a little house but there is a kind of shelter out here that no interior can provide. Now, I'm pulled back, drawn in, melting with drum. I feel Yorke's voice spiraling inside of me. Karma Police I've given all I can. It's not enough. I've given all I can... And he's howling and my hands reach out to these dark skies. And with that last climactic drum roll, I see the lightning, I feel the crashing roar, the loud burst of thunder. But the gods tease. I'm the only sound I hear.

How can these gods be asleep? Are they not moved? Do they not see? Am I the only one awake? Their lack of delivery is inexcusable. It's poetically unjust. It makes no sense. And I plea, I beg, What are you waiting for? This is my scene, my story, my way. But I'm always late, always looking for the climax, within and without. Where's the climax? And Yorke can't wait for me either. And like that first gasp for air after a long battle, he comes rushing in. For a minute there, I lost myself, I lost my...se...e...elf. Phew, for a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself...

Before I know it, Exit Music has entered and filled every crevice inside me. The music plays with my emotions like they're keys on a piano, strings on a lyre or hands on a tabla. I'm calm but I'm the queen of anticipation so I can't completely enjoy this experience, these moments. Then right before Yorke's scream, his siren, the clouds fuse, creating spark, getting ready to join us mortals in this orchestra we call life. Finally, the music, the scene and I, we flow into each other becoming one, becoming whole--something I never quite fully believed was possible.

And I laugh and I cry because it's perfect. It's all so perfect.