At the beginning of 2016, on a relatively infrequent visit to the gym, I was on the fast-walking-thing listening to Orgasmatron. Actually it was the running machine but I can’t run on it because of my hopeless lower back, so there I was, all sweaty, gently entering into that zone when the music and adrenalin converge and make about fifty seconds of the three quarters-of-an-hour session rather beautiful. 408 more words