Last night much of my friend's large catholic family came out to hear Funk Shui play. Among her eleven siblings is a nun who hit the dance floor in full habit. On the same small dance floor was her brother and his girlfriend who looked like they were auditioning for a soft-core porno. And then there were the rest of us, mostly happy.

I'd never given much thought to what it must feel like to be up on a stage playing music, looking out into a crowd of family, friends and grateful strangers. It struck me last night what an addictive thrill that must be. I enjoy reading my writing to an audience, but people don't dance to a short story or raise their beers and whistle their approval if they like your sentences. Mostly it's just me sitting behind the curtains in the quiet of my room. I love the loud and obvious joy that comes with the gift of music. It is a powerful thing.