callizette United States I'm an opinionated wordsmith who appreciates music as art. If I can't sense it or believe it, I doubt it's anything but noise. I have an ear for perfect pitch that happens to be in a different key than expected, so I'm retuning the 81 strings of my hammered dulcimer in hopes of fulfilling a childhood dream of learning to play it and an adult fantasy of laying the melody above my own hand-drummed rhythms laced with a linguistic legacy that buckles lovers in for a ride to ecstasy. My music collection, excluding digital files, numbers over two hundred albums. Don't ask me names, song titles, albums; I can't remember. Play me a song and I'll tell you how it made love to me, how it somehow again stole my virginity. Or I'll tell you how instead it raped me of well-deserved serenity by shrilly scraping it's nails and projectile vomiting a cacophony of less than a fully digested understanding that music speaks things into existence; it does not scream for acknowledgement of its own.