The radio station here is a rather modest one—I’m not diminishing it in saying that, please don’t think so; it truly is wonderful thing we do here and I feel so fortunate to be involved. It truly is a labor of love, and as is often the case with labors of love there are many a late and lonely night spent in this station.
In those late nights there is a change that comes over me; I suppose you could say my mind begins to drift. I’ve searched and sought, thought and contemplated, trying to find a term to describe it.
…I haven’t yet been successful. But I did come across something recently that I think relates the experience. It’s a song titled “Bubbles” by Nuslux. It’s like… it’s like floating, like… not having a body.
You know when you run your hand under a faucet and the water is exactly the right temperature; in such perfect balance of hot and cold that it’s almost as if it has no temperature at all? Deep in the night I close my eyes and play “Bubbles”, and I feel as if my office has been entirely flooded with water of that sort and I’m just awash in it—slowly drifting away from myself.
I find comfort in it, I think Nuslux feels what I feel. This song feels lonesome, but lonesome in service of the thing he truly loves. Perhaps his pianos and synthesizers are to him what my playlists and audio faders are. It’s a curious thing in my mind—to find yourself so consumed by sharing what you love with people that you end up spending very little time actually being with them.
You know something I heard once? That a Surface Dweller went to space and noticed that, when free of gravity, small grains of sugar slowly pull each other closer until they find themselves in a cluster. Perhaps that’s the hopefulness I hear in “Bubbles”, we are all adrift but can rest easy knowing that we will invariably be drawn together.