Crisp to clear

My mood is functioning much like the song Parasites, by Ugly Casanova. You start in on a solid strumming chord, crisp in it's clarity, hooking you on. Next these chanting voices tune in, vividly telling you that you're mind's been taken over, meanwhile, an enchanting and somewhat haunting horn spins around behind it. But my mind seems to be manipulating the curling cycle and shifting notes drifting on an upward curve, then diving lower into a mellow-to-almost-silence riff, melodically tugging me along, almost in a sleep. Summed up, it's a vibrant mixture of nostalgia, melancholy, soft exuberance, contentment, electric-energy, and vexation.
Out of all these, where'd the vexation come from you might ask? Well, as I was typing up this post, I had a pleasant phone conversation with my Mother. Love the leaves, love the music, and...love my Mom.

'It was hot and time was sticking to my skin.
We're all the punch line to a joke that they won't let us in on.'
{Parasites, Ugly Casanova}