Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Sound Check


Music is my life. I recently lost my 8 gig IPod to a battle with old age. It gets worse, I had a nano on loan since my late IPod's untimely death and had to give it back to its owner last week. I gave it back begrudgingly, gun to head and all.

I can coherently say I am nothing without it. My workout's are marginal; my running has turned into a lifeless, self pity drag of my Nikes.

I walk to school and ride the Muni like a sick animal looking for shelter. I no longer have that extra punch in my step like Janice Dickenson circa 2007--the woman will never come off the "first supermodel" kick--when a song I love comes on my shuffle.

I have since ordered a new one. I am impatiently waiting every day and checking my mailbox like someone with ADHD. I almost consider not going places sometimes because the walk can be so boring; I don't know how people do it without some type of MP3 or hell, even a walk man.

I saw--or should I say heard--someone the other day on the Muni who had a small tape player on his shoulder; one you wouldn't find anywhere besides a goodwill or the back of Grandmas garage listening to some classy Billy Holiday esq song.

I have also seen people gripping their cell phones to their ears playing songs--which gets annoying if your P. Diddy intercepts my Weezer-- but you do what you have to sometimes to get by.

A philosophy book I have says "quieting the mind was indeed music's "proper purpose."" I agree completely. Music can reciprocate mind over matter so easily. It is really matter over mind because nothing has such a power to make someone feel so kick ass while running up a flight of stairs like Survivor's Eye of the Tiger.

I don't know how many days I have spent on the Muni staring at everyone with headphones embedded in their ears so tightly as though they were secret FBI pieces.
Headphones big and small; ones with rhinestones placed so perfectly on the ear piece, ones that are tye dye, ones that look like something Michael Jackson wore during a recording session with the Jackson 5 as well as some that are neon colors (where can I get those?).

Drifting into a mindless whirlwind as to what on earth people are listening to, I often wonder. I can't say that dress attire completely gives it away; a guy in pleather pants, a Pantera tee-shirt and a suede fringed vest is most likely NOT listening to Mandy Moore's greatest hits, but maybe he is? Then again, I don't think most would think I am listening to Lil Wayne's, Lollipop when I am; it's sort of a guilty pleasure.

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