Is being rigid and dogmatic a hedge against uncertainty and chaos? I think for some.
Society is awash with those convinced that they’re right. Like the guy in Sabattus. Another document fetishist—Constitution or Bible, it’s always the same—these guys (most of them are guys, white ones, too) are certain that some ancient document holds the key forward—or rather, backward.
I spent a little time this morning attempting to earn a shekel or two. Most apparently were like me—“working” from home. Oh, there were the hearty few, like Miss Mary, who went off into the white falling from the sky to visit some customers. She’s a trooper that girl.
By 11:00, I decided to call it “a day,” and hopped on my stationary bike to listen to a podcast. Unfortunately, the one I picked was annoying and I decided to go to my default, which is music.
Another March Northeaster in Maine.
Life isn’t predictable, nor is it ordered by some higher power. But, if you must tell yourself it is, please leave me out of your conversation.
Curiosity wasn’t something I learned from my family of origin. Any time I sought to expand my horizon during my pre-teen and teenage years, I was slapped down and made to feel bad that I wanted something more.
But perhaps if I’d fed Mark a steady diet of fear and uncertainty, he’d have settled down and never considered walking across the country once and then, a second time, too.
On Saturday night we went out with friends and saw a provocative play by David Mamet in Bath. Over beers (pre-show), I was talking with my friend Paul and I mentioned to him that lately I’ve been realizing how little I know about the world and how it works. It’s really a place of wonder and the opportunities are unlimited to learn if we’re open and aware. It’s also a place where tragedy strikes unexpectedly, too.
I’m not going to do the binary discussion thing anymore. Have them if you must. I’ll be elsewhere.
Growing up, no one ever told me, “Jim, you’re a visual learner.” But I was (and am).
More often than not I’m struck by how often I’m “late to the game” on things. But at least I get in before the buzzer goes off.
Jeff Conklin hosts a show on WFMU. I’ve listened to one of the last bastions of freeform on the FM dial since 2004, but never spent time with Jeff’s amazing playlists until two weeks ago. It’s hard to articulate how much I’ve been enjoying finding new things musically. Like a duo named MV & EE, who are part of some psyche folk, hippie vibe in Brattleboro, Vermont. Just read a long piece online yesterday about MV, also is known as Matt Valentine. It’s the kind of music writing I grew up with, discursive, and all-inclusive—the way rock music was written about in the pre-Pitchfork era. The journalist, Byron Coley, is an old-school guy and the piece ran in the defunct Arthur magazine and it’s worth seeking out.
Speaking of ‘FMU, on Saturday (pre-Mamet) I caught the amazing set by Yo La Tengo, by video live stream, as the Hoboken band played requests in exchange for pledges during the station’s fundraising marathon, the 21st year they’ve done so. It is epic, they don’t archive it, and I’ve never managed to catch it before.
YLT has always had a place in my heart since I got to see them “rip it up” in one of Bowdoin’s lounges back in 1993 or 1994. That was when I was doing my DJing and the school brought in some of the luminaries of that era of indie rock.
Looking out the window, the snow is coming down, the wind is whipping it around, but I’m grooving to “Dark Star,” by the Dead.