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February 12, 2012


Carolyn Liesey

Cute, I think there is more to it because some of love music, but do not get quite that response. Have a good time at mardi gras.

Rebecca Wilson

I like it and, of course, totally get it. { :

Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

I was thinking that when I wrote this piece, Carolyn, so thanks for bringing it up. I guess it what turns on the dopamine, other than the food, drugs, and sex mentioned in the research, has to do with our individual chemistries. I know there are other acts in daily life that give me pleasure but specific kinds of music and dance consistently fire up my dopamine to a remarkable level. I'm looking forward to Mardi Gras. I know I won't be the only one with a goofy dopamine fueled smile when the music comes along.

Bambi Good

You are a liver!!!!!! You have found life as almost nobody else I know! May it be even better than you know it will be!

Susan Edwards

It's amazing how still my mind gets when I'm dancing! That usual buzzsaw in my head fades away. Music, dancing, ahh...

Paul Tamburello aka pt at large

Interesting take, Susan, I never thought of it through that lens. I guess when the sound of the buzzsaw fades away, the music and dance occupies all the available space on my psychic hard drive and I delight in the sense of suffusion. For me it expresses itself in a sense of liberation that connects with my body at the cellular level. Things get really amplified when I dance with a partner who feels it the same way I do.

I wonder what you feel when that sense of "still" happens. I wonder whether it helped you get through a four year project making your documentary film about Marion Stoddard?

 May Louise White



You are SO right. Right now I'm listening to Whitney's version of a gospel song. I'm not dancing, but I am MOVED majorily -- crying and laughing simultaneously.

Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Music as elegy is powerful stuff,isn't it, probably has ancient roots. This was such a sad saga, shook the music nation because we all had a piece of her music in our emotional juke boxes. Farewell, Whitne

Susan Sullivan

YY Paul

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