10/31/08
well
Now that I've openly declared my completely un-back-upable dislike of some of the best music on the planet... I'll try to get some work done and retain a smidgen of self-respect.
10/29/08
makeover
I need a new direction for this blog.
I've always disliked the "I did this, and then we went here, and then we did that" kinds of blogs - seems tediously like a diary of events, and who can possibly care that much if I had toast with jam for breakfast and then went jogging?
But the posting-random-thoughts-as-they-occur-to-me thing is also getting a bit dull.
I'll think about it and get back to you.
(I should work on the jogging part too.)
I've always disliked the "I did this, and then we went here, and then we did that" kinds of blogs - seems tediously like a diary of events, and who can possibly care that much if I had toast with jam for breakfast and then went jogging?
But the posting-random-thoughts-as-they-occur-to-me thing is also getting a bit dull.
I'll think about it and get back to you.
(I should work on the jogging part too.)
Billy Joel, Elton John, Queen and Neil Diamond
If anyone can get me to like _their_ music... there'll be wedding bells ringing fer sure.
one of the nice things about Oneonta
This morning:
7:30 - my alarm went off
7:55 - after lounging, I got out of bed
8:27 - I left the apartment
8:32 - I arrived at the Post Office to mail a package - there was only a short line, and I got to chat with Brian Carey's mother as she waited on me.
8:37 - I left the Post Office and headed for work.
8:44 - After battling the heavy morning traffic, I pulled into the parking lot at work.
8:47 - I turned my computer on and sat down to write some emails before the office opened at 9.
7:30 - my alarm went off
7:55 - after lounging, I got out of bed
8:27 - I left the apartment
8:32 - I arrived at the Post Office to mail a package - there was only a short line, and I got to chat with Brian Carey's mother as she waited on me.
8:37 - I left the Post Office and headed for work.
8:44 - After battling the heavy morning traffic, I pulled into the parking lot at work.
8:47 - I turned my computer on and sat down to write some emails before the office opened at 9.
10/28/08
order gender
It just struck me oddly that we say:
mom and dad
nieces and nephews
boys and girls
Mr. and Mrs.
Ladies and Gentlemen...
men and women
brothers and sisters
etc.
Funny how jarring it feels to reverse them, and strange that there's no consistency.
mom and dad
nieces and nephews
boys and girls
Mr. and Mrs.
Ladies and Gentlemen...
men and women
brothers and sisters
etc.
Funny how jarring it feels to reverse them, and strange that there's no consistency.
10/19/08
10/15/08
what's in a song OR a song by any other name
Well, I just got back from having dinner at Jodi's, and tried to watch a couple of minutes of the presidential debate. Finding that even a couple of minutes were more than my blood pressure and stomach equilibrium could take, I've now decided to post something on my sadly-neglected blog.
And now the die is cast, so it won't matter if I watch it later.
[Funny - I assume that ^ refers to dice and games, but in my mind it's always been associated with die casting.]
So on the way home from Jodi's, I was listening to a mix I'd made awhile back - the first three songs being 1) Neil Young 2) Ry Cooder (from the Paris, Texas soundtrack) and 3) Audrey Hepburn (singing Moon River from Breakfast at Tiffany's). And halfway through Ry Cooder, I suddenly wondered if I'd still like that track so much, if it weren't associated with all sorts of stuff in my head.
Like, you know how you play a song for someone - one of your favorite songs in the world - and they just don't get it at all? What if it had less to do with the song itself, and more with the fact that they were lacking the good associations you have with the song?
Cause Neil Young - would I have ever started listening to his music if I hadn't been head-over-heels for Kurt when he gave me a cracked LP of After The Gold Rush in high school? Would I like it if I didn't enter a certain mental zone every time I hear it - a zone that is full of high school memories, and also connected with the years I worked at PhotoTime, when Neil's wife would bring rolls of film in to be developed, and my friend Julie lived up on King's Mountain, just down the road from his house - Every time I hear a Neil Young song, all that goes through my head - years of memories. Would his songs seem so full to me if they didn't contain all of those things?
Or Ry Cooder's guitar - which reminds me so much of the western emptiness of that movie that I can almost smell the dirt and sagebrush, ...and of Rob, and living in Menlo Park, and how I used to always get Paris, Texas mixed up with True Stories, and how I tried to get my mom to watch True Stories, but she never did.
The more I think about it, the associations kinda take over, and the actual content of the songs seems increasingly irrelevant.
Here’s a test – the next time someone plays you a song you don’t like, imagine that the person you’re in love with has just told you that it’s their favorite song ever – and see if it improves.
And now the die is cast, so it won't matter if I watch it later.
[Funny - I assume that ^ refers to dice and games, but in my mind it's always been associated with die casting.]
So on the way home from Jodi's, I was listening to a mix I'd made awhile back - the first three songs being 1) Neil Young 2) Ry Cooder (from the Paris, Texas soundtrack) and 3) Audrey Hepburn (singing Moon River from Breakfast at Tiffany's). And halfway through Ry Cooder, I suddenly wondered if I'd still like that track so much, if it weren't associated with all sorts of stuff in my head.
Like, you know how you play a song for someone - one of your favorite songs in the world - and they just don't get it at all? What if it had less to do with the song itself, and more with the fact that they were lacking the good associations you have with the song?
Cause Neil Young - would I have ever started listening to his music if I hadn't been head-over-heels for Kurt when he gave me a cracked LP of After The Gold Rush in high school? Would I like it if I didn't enter a certain mental zone every time I hear it - a zone that is full of high school memories, and also connected with the years I worked at PhotoTime, when Neil's wife would bring rolls of film in to be developed, and my friend Julie lived up on King's Mountain, just down the road from his house - Every time I hear a Neil Young song, all that goes through my head - years of memories. Would his songs seem so full to me if they didn't contain all of those things?
Or Ry Cooder's guitar - which reminds me so much of the western emptiness of that movie that I can almost smell the dirt and sagebrush, ...and of Rob, and living in Menlo Park, and how I used to always get Paris, Texas mixed up with True Stories, and how I tried to get my mom to watch True Stories, but she never did.
The more I think about it, the associations kinda take over, and the actual content of the songs seems increasingly irrelevant.
Here’s a test – the next time someone plays you a song you don’t like, imagine that the person you’re in love with has just told you that it’s their favorite song ever – and see if it improves.
10/2/08
more from Joel
Me: "That's the problem with stuffed animals - you can hug them, and hug them, and hug them, and they never look any happier."
Joel: "I would be more worried if over time they did look happier."
Joel: "I would be more worried if over time they did look happier."
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