Disappointing Barry White

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1713

Abstract

y voice, my music is in fact the Music of the Spheres. And as long as I am in a body that music must reverberate through all parts of me; my mind, body and spirit. I can’t shut off any of those components.I can’t listen to music with headphones. I can’t listen to it with just my ears. I can’t simply listen to it. I’ve got to FEEL it! It’s got to vibrate in every cell of my body, every beat of my heart, every layer of my mind, and it’s got to resonate throughout the universe. It’s got to echo throughout eternity.Not even the music of Barry White can do that. It has to come from within me, matching what comes from the Universe, silencing everything else. It has to be a music that permeates all of creation.Seriously, that is a tough request. Ask any DJ to play that and they will run for the nearest exit. Was I being too demanding? Was I forgetting my roots? The fact that I was still stuck in physicality? The fact that I still had a body? The fact that there were billions of people I could dance with?Oh dear! Not only did I stop listening to music but I also stopped dancing! What the hell happened to me? A hundred years ago whenever a Michael Jackson song or ABBA’s Dancing Queen started playing at the club I would pull whoever I was with out onto the dance floor and we would clear it. I was a dancing fool!Now, I don’t even remember how to dance. My body just looks up at me and asks, “Huh? What’s dancing?” It doesn’t remember what to do. I have stifled it into a coma. I have sadly disconnected from it.Anyway, I don’t remember where I was or what I was doing but a couple of day

Options

s ago from somewhere in the background I suddenly heard Barry White’s song, I Can’t Get Enough of Your Love Babe. I haven’t heard that song in a hundred years.For the briefest of seconds I felt horny. What the fuck?That wasn’t supposed to happen. After all, I traded away my libido in exchange for a calm, relaxed, stress-free, uncomplicated life. And that was years ago. I thought I was libido-free.But more importantly, for the briefest of seconds I wanted to dance. But it has been so long since I’ve danced, since I’ve allowed my body to express thusly, that I was rendered immobile. I found myself in a state of confusion.Damn that Barry White!I realized that I am an old, old, old, old fart. Except that I am not really that old. Really, I’m not. Sure my hair is gray but I have very few wrinkles. I’m in pretty good shape. I could probably learn to dance again. I could reconnect with the physical world again if I put my heart into it. I’m really not that old. I’m not even old enough to collect Social Security! I don’t think I’m even old enough to get a senior’s discount at Dairy Queen.But sometimes I feel like a virgin all over again. The only difference is that a hundred years ago I was afraid of letting down Barry White. Now I’m afraid of making him turn over in his grave.Copyright by <a href="https://readmedium.com/white-feather-archive-index-c95167f7dbaf">White Feather</a>. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of quasi-fiction. <a href="https://medium.com/@WhiteFeather9/latest">See My Latest Articles Here</a></article></body>

We all have to start somewhere

Barry White was playing on the stereo when I lost my virginity. When it was over I felt that I had truly let down the female involved. But I really, really, really, really, really felt like I let down Barry White.

No neophyte quits after the first time. So I kept listening to Barry White over and over and over again until I finally came close to getting it right.

But you can’t listen to the same music forever, right? So for the next half century I listened to all sorts of music. Eventually, after way too many years, the music I listened to had no connections to sex, hormones or romance. For crying out loud, I was listening to yoga music and new age harp music that sent my mind into realms of woo woo that never aroused any bodily functions or lusty memories. Heck, I even listened to classical music. I began listening to music only with my mind and not my body.

And then it got even worse! I stopped listening to music altogether!

I chose a path of silence in hopes of someday hearing the holy Music of the Spheres — or whatever you want to call it. I had heard everyone else sing. I wanted to hear God sing in her own voice. I wanted to hear the music that sent me into rapture, the music that lifted me up into ascension, the music that made me transcend physical reality into the realms of gods.

But that was before I realized that I am a god. My voice, my music is in fact the Music of the Spheres. And as long as I am in a body that music must reverberate through all parts of me; my mind, body and spirit. I can’t shut off any of those components.

I can’t listen to music with headphones. I can’t listen to it with just my ears. I can’t simply listen to it. I’ve got to FEEL it! It’s got to vibrate in every cell of my body, every beat of my heart, every layer of my mind, and it’s got to resonate throughout the universe. It’s got to echo throughout eternity.

Not even the music of Barry White can do that. It has to come from within me, matching what comes from the Universe, silencing everything else. It has to be a music that permeates all of creation.

Seriously, that is a tough request. Ask any DJ to play that and they will run for the nearest exit. Was I being too demanding? Was I forgetting my roots? The fact that I was still stuck in physicality? The fact that I still had a body? The fact that there were billions of people I could dance with?

Oh dear! Not only did I stop listening to music but I also stopped dancing! What the hell happened to me? A hundred years ago whenever a Michael Jackson song or ABBA’s Dancing Queen started playing at the club I would pull whoever I was with out onto the dance floor and we would clear it. I was a dancing fool!

Now, I don’t even remember how to dance. My body just looks up at me and asks, “Huh? What’s dancing?” It doesn’t remember what to do. I have stifled it into a coma. I have sadly disconnected from it.

Anyway, I don’t remember where I was or what I was doing but a couple of days ago from somewhere in the background I suddenly heard Barry White’s song, I Can’t Get Enough of Your Love Babe. I haven’t heard that song in a hundred years.

For the briefest of seconds I felt horny. What the fuck?

That wasn’t supposed to happen. After all, I traded away my libido in exchange for a calm, relaxed, stress-free, uncomplicated life. And that was years ago. I thought I was libido-free.

But more importantly, for the briefest of seconds I wanted to dance. But it has been so long since I’ve danced, since I’ve allowed my body to express thusly, that I was rendered immobile. I found myself in a state of confusion.

Damn that Barry White!

I realized that I am an old, old, old, old fart. Except that I am not really that old. Really, I’m not. Sure my hair is gray but I have very few wrinkles. I’m in pretty good shape. I could probably learn to dance again. I could reconnect with the physical world again if I put my heart into it. I’m really not that old. I’m not even old enough to collect Social Security! I don’t think I’m even old enough to get a senior’s discount at Dairy Queen.

But sometimes I feel like a virgin all over again. The only difference is that a hundred years ago I was afraid of letting down Barry White. Now I’m afraid of making him turn over in his grave.