Thursday, April 13, 2006

How NPR Sucked the Rock Out of Me

I put people in jail for a living. So some people might have been forgiven for thinking that I am a stiff. And some might think I sold out, or cashed in my scruples. Well fuck you all.

Causality is thought to track, there are too many variables. But this I know for sure. The last three years I have listened to little else but NPR, preferably the more talk the better. Well, about two years ago I started listening to Punk, but then that was short lived and it always seemed hypocritical to want to sing along with some good old song about anarchy in my suit on my way to court to give a guy a plea offer to spend the next 2 years in prison. Punk was a little lashing out, an undercurrent, but it wasn't long lived. And so on and on with NPR, morning edition on my alarm clock, All Things Considered on the way to Town Court, Fresh Air at lunch. Man have I learned a lot. I always have something on point, witty and informative to say about everything. God bless NPR. But what is the cost? Its not the $50 membership I never sent them (I may be a lawyer but I ain't flush--my infamous motorcycle is on the chopping block--though I don't think I can sell it because it was bought with nearly 95% credit and now I owe more than the bike is worth!)

Incidentally, the motorcyle was another attempt to get out of my stultifying life, and it works.

So, here I am listening to all this talk about everything--war, pesticide, infanticide, movies, television, agriculture, literature, culture, art, politics, hurricanes, etc... And I have found that it has sucked the life out of me. I had lost the je ne se quais (sp?) of life. I had become an automaton. Camus railed against abstraction, and man am I abstract. I didn't often listen to any of my over 90 hours of music.

So how did I realize what the absence of music was doing to me? I started copying my CDs into my harddrive and putting them on shuffle. I also watched School of Rock. Man, Rock Rocks. All silliness aside. Music is a gateway to passion. When I left music for information and abstraction I left passion behind. I am sure I did this for a reason. I could say that the music had gotten tired for me, but then maybe I was no longer connecting with it because of something I was going through--I was shutting it off. Well its back, music can heal. Whether its Rock or the Blues or Classical or whatever, music helps you to come alive. Those old hymns aren't in the liturgy for nothing.

So now I am no longer The Man--I spend my time trying to stick it to him instead. I can go back to listening to my Ramones. I can say fuck it to the world of dreary news; as long as I find out about the draft with enough time to cross the border what do I need news for? Ignorance is bliss. Its time to rock, brother. Turn up the Zeppelin.


Blogger Scheherazade said...

So true.
Though weaned on NPR, Dad got the balance right. He took to me to my first opera (Puccini: Mad Butterfly) and bought my Red Hot Chili Peppers tickets too--where I ran into my younger brother in the mosh pit, and almost dropped him. True story.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006 10:54:00 PM  

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