Two Days

Two days until my very breath will be stolen, if just for a moment, by a happiness that knows no equal. Two days until another little bit of manna from heaven comes to nourish me. Two days until I am awash in the first blushes of a euphoria that will last for weeks, until it ebbs ever so slowly into merely a subtle bliss and merges with the dimmed but not diminished ecstasies that have come before and hover, always, near me. Two days until I find out what the soundtrack to the next bit of my life will sound like.

Two days to Ringleader of the Tormentors.

It is, as ever, two days before—the Sunday night before the inevitable Tuesday release date—that I begin to fear I will never hear the new album, because surely I will explode from excitement before the day, and the album, arrive. I click over to the evil Amazon and stare at the screen and consider listening to the samples of each song, and then I close the window. It wouldn’t be the same if I knew what the first few notes sounded like before I was lying on the floor in front of the stereo, the lyric sheet in hand, waiting to be killed. Again.

Come on, Tuesday. Bloody get here already.