To preserve health and well being one must take certain measurements.
There are things that are good for us and things that are not. Measurement allows us to limit the bad and increase the good.
I vow, for my own health, to take stock of the amount of music I absorb. In the past, I never had to think about it. I always got enough.
These day, like exercise, I might skimp on the amount I need to keep me healthy.
Reading through one of my fave blogs this morning I watched a video of a baby’s first year. The accompanying tune was enchanting. I loved it. It was familiar. Yes. I knew the voice. Not just knew, but loved, the voice. It was like a dear old friend that I hadn’t seen in months, years.
“I can tell that we are going to be friends. Walk with me Susie Lee . . .”
What was it? Who was it?
Shit, it’s Jack White!
What a frightening experience. I was aghast. It took me so long to recognize what I was hearing. Is it proof that my cognition is ebbing away or just a sharp warning that I need to listen to more music?
There are demands on my attention each day, but I can still negotiate the intersection of my listening pleasure and responsibilities.
I’ve been taken aback by technology. That is one stumbling block. The CD player in my big work space won’t play many burned CDs. The CD player in the kitchen sewing, chimp-construction-space skips, maybe just on burned CDs. It plays tapes. I got a million of them.
I’ve got the Nano. I can only take so many hours of having my head clamped into the exclusionary earbud box. Will I have to buy an iPod dock? Do they have compact combo docks and CD players?
I think I will upload some White Stripes today.
Damn those celebrity mags. Listening to White Blood Cells makes me think of Jack White and Renee Zellweger. I just get mad all over again. How could a girl flake out on Jack White?
Yes, he’s probably demanding, eccentric and cautious with his heart. Isn’t every double Cancer? It could have been about possessiveness. He has Mars in Taurus. He is a big hunk of dreamy, though and Kenny Chesney absolutely is not.
How could she marry that super creepy fake cowboy dude? Ewww.
I know, to each his own, but the whole episode definitely left me questioning RZ’s taste.