Posts Tagged ‘music’
The Disc Doctor Has Left the Building
And this mortal coil.
Watching all of the fuss over Michael Jackson the past few days, marveling over all of the people mourning his death, holding vigil at his star on Hollywood Boulevard, or wherever those things are kept, I couldn’t help but feel angry. Why are these people crying and carrying on over someone they have never met in real life? Okay, fine, you enjoyed his music … but you didn’t know him, so how can you truly mourn him? Are your emotions that cheap?
I can’t help but think that the multitudes of fans we see on video carrying on over Michael Jackson in the streets of cities all around the world are ones that have never lost someone truly close to them – never had someone they dearly loved taken from them – and that they are fools, one and all. With their crocodile tears they mock everyone past and present that has watched someone they truly love and know die.
But such is life. For the first time in some months, I dreamed of my father, the other night. I guess Michael Jackson’s death is big news even in the realm of the dead; the ghosts are stirring and agitated.
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To the last, I grapple with thee …
To the last I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart I stab at thee; for hate’s sake I spit my last breath at thee.
– Herman Melville, Moby Dick
Damn you, rhinovirus. Damn you Nonta for making those ass-kicking shots weekend before last, shots that apparently delivered the coup de grâce to my immune system, breeching the white-celled wall for the invading rhinovirus horde (but I forgive you, since you’re so darn cute). But most of all, damn myself for partying like a rock star. No one to blame but myself.
Oh well. At least reading Melville in high school was not completely for naught. And on the plus side, being stuck at home for the bulk of the four-day weekend, waiting to cough up a lung and/or for one of my sinus cavities to explode, I finally found time to rip every CD I own. Some 21 gigs of tunes, all ripped at a variable bit rate with 320 kbps being the max. Rawk on. It was kind of fun, actually – rediscovered a lot of music that I hadn’t listened to in ages, and relived memories both good and bad. For example, back in the mid 90s, getting my goth on at the Phoenix in Cleveland when Queue Up was playing … good. Very good. Hating my life and everyone in it while whithering away in the high desert of Northern Arizona in the late 1990s … not so much. Escaping to the Bay Area at the beginning of 2000 … good, very good.
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