Des idées de grandeur: Gut feeling

J’ai des idées de grandeur dès que j’entends une musique que j’aime. J’ai des idées de grandeur à l’idée d’allé danser le tango. Je me sens comme la reine de l’univers à qui l’on doit hommage et respect.

D’où cela me vient-il? Je ne sais pas. Une folie est trop facile d’excuse. Dès qu’un ami part en voyage, j’ai moi aussi l’impression de partir en vacance. Je suis très excitée. C’est un transfert d’énergie?

J’ai le trac. Avant un show, juste avant d’entrer en transe, j’ai la chienne ultime. Et après le show, j’ai des crampes de bide de la mort. Je ne suis pas humble. Tout le monde le sais que je fais un show. Tout le monde le saura que j’aurai un succès. « Ne t’enfle pas la tête », ne me vas pas du tout.

Mais qu’est-ce qui me communique cette idée d’accomplissement sublime qui en rétrospectif est bien imaginaire et très mondaine, et qui doit se récompenser par une viré au vin (champagne surtout)? Que pour avoir dénichée une superbe toune, je me dois d’être fêtée par un repas délicieux et bien présenté? Qu’est-ce que cette idée de buzz?

In the medieval times, the Church forbade music using la tierce, a succession of the tonal notes followed by the third note of the scale, because the sound was that of the devil. This musical increment alone could set you on fire, unleash the most spectacular vices. A sound. A sound I listen to everyday. I dance on it even. Perhaps all hell broke loose when I first picked up my guitar at age five. Beware...la tierce is watching you!

I will therefore be google-ing exuberance/exaltation/sublimation/trepidation/euphoria. I will do my due research trying to explain on paper the out-wordly feeling linked to the feeling of accomplishment. And the feeling of deserving to be celebrated for it all. Off the bat I’m thinking cocaine. Similarly drugs asmathic take. An unusual amount of oxygen pumping through the vein. I assume adrenaline does it, the feeling of accomplishment. Orgasm and enflamed desire. So does embarrassment, rage, and love-a-first-sight. In the body, the responsible of godly feeling is I think the hormonal system.

I remember a TV documentary mentioning humans are programmed to remember pain, learning not-to-do-it-again. We also are more likely to remember losing as losing is also something we shouldn’t be doing again.

Le malade Imaginaire. Imagining suffering from all kinds of illnesses. Fetish games and fantasy. The idea of getting turned on, and the idea of psychosomatic ills. Imagination triggers real symptoms. Imagination acts on the body (organs, systems, chemicals) and on the mind (faith, fatalism, and hope).

Memory plays a part in the feeling of anger, and shame. It also plays a part in the feeling of exuberance in a non-memory sense. Therefore I take it memory, hormonal system, and imagination account for dosing me with powerful sensations. Sensations which are barely containable. Sensations that make me want to vomit/shout out/ throw myself out of a building knowing I will sprout wings and fly.

These scientific explanations are what I keep reminding myself when I feel myself slipping in godliness. When ideas and characters flood my mind like a full blown home entertainment. When I feel I’ve a mission on this planet but the mission hasn’t come yet and so I’m idle playing writers and tango-ing though life. Until then. Until I’m needed and using my super hero powers. Yes slipping. Off the map. But it all has a scientific explanation.

10 Dec. 07, Beijing. Written thinking of the Christmas milonga, where I danced all the women and even a man, I felt hair on my chest. I felt more important than a diva in my ultra short black and silver Missoni sequence dress. (Add three glasses of red Argentinean wine and half a flute of champagne) And coming back home riding my bike in the freezing cold while wired on Nuevo Tango, full blast playing in my brain. I swear, oh I swear: I did not see the road I therefore must have been in one fold, one wrinkle, one crimp of the universe fabric – playing gods. 