Thursday, January 24, 2002

re: sam

the job hunt continues. today, i woke up at noon, ate some oatmeal, and drove down to old town to see if any places were hiring. driving down king street towards the potomac, i spot a great parking spot. sweet! but, wait! motherfucking stop the presses - what the hell are they playing on wpfw? i can not even believe that they are playing gil scott heron's "it's your world." this has got to be a sign of some sorts - this was one of my favorite songs last year, one that i would listen to over and over again. and i have never heard it on the radio. ever. i get far too excited by the song, decide not to park - to cruise around old town listening to "it's your world." the sky was grayer than gray today. it was about sixty degrees and dark dark dark, and i did not/do not want a job. i do not want to work. why again, am i taking the semester off? i don't even know. job hunting is the most depressing thing in the world, especially when the word work is anaethema to my sleep all day lifestyle.

i get out of the car, walk down king street, see a couple of help wanted signs in restaurant windows. ugh, being a waiter. i don't want to do that, at least not yet. i decide to go into the torpedo factory and wander around looking at all the artists' booths. i decide i'll apply to these restaurants tomorrow. i would just break down and cry if i had to apply today.

so, i decide to go to target since i am already half way there and i have some store credit left from x-mas returns. barnes and nobles is literally two stores down from target and i wondered if they were hiring, but i didn't feel like walking in to ask. so after i left target, i drove past barnes and nobles to see if they had a hiring sign or anything. nope, okay good. i drive home and the classic rock station plays springsteen's "i'm going down," another one of my favorite songs that i have never heard on the radio. i kept getting all excited at every verse, hoping for the "i remember when my kisses used to turn you inside out" verse - it finally came, and i was so so happy. radio cranked as loud as it gets. me singing even louder over it. and i forget for a brief moment that i have to find a job. all i can think about is remembering when his kisses did used to turn me inside out.

i get home and call some bookstores in the phonebook to see if they are hiring. and of course, the barnes and nobles is - so, i drive all the way back out there to pick up an application. i pop in the 10,000 maniacs unplugged tape since i was feeling sort of down, and natalie picks me right up, nurses me in her arms back to happiness.

during this drive through traffic snarls, traffic meows, and traffic growls - i maintained a detachment from the chaos around me - instead, totally involved with natalie's words and the guitar strums and the harmony of their overlap. thinking about lots of non-traffic thoughts. boys, my life, my lack of one, my lack of knowledge about colors (i really wish i knew how to describe what color the sky was - it wasn't really gray, it was sort of blueish, but not even, ahh, i don't know).

also thinking about what sam said in his last diary entry about familiar music: "I just put on either something I’m familiar with or something that sounds like something I’m familiar with and sort of fill the void with these sounds that I do not form a direct connection with, sounds which only serve to distract me, or sounds which complement whatever phony lifestyle I’ve chosen at whatever point. But then all it takes is one real rock and roll experience moment, really feeling it, and all the bullshit is worth it."

i don't know what diary etiquette is (or if there is such a thing). i feel sort of weird about responding in my diary to something someone said in theirs. about making what was monologic (sort of) into something that is dialogic (or at least more so). so whatever, if i ain't got no etiquette, then i ain't got none. what?

i just don't think listening to the same stuff over and over again, is a bullshit listening experience. perhaps, this is because i get sort of obsessive about albums and songs that i like and listen to them over and over again. for example, me and bonnie have listend to that nelly furtado album about eight million times. no joke. okay, not the whole album. mainly just "turn off the lights."

some songs just have an incantatory power that is heightened with each listening. and no, not "re-listening". each listening no matter how many times you have heard it is a "listening" without the re- precedding it. it's a brand new experience. it's seriously a trance-like state that some music can produce. a familiar song can just totally turn your mood around. those songs remind you that a frown is nothing but a smile upside down.

saying that listening to familiar music is bullshit seems so offensive to me. i mean, would you say that sleeping with the same person more than once is a bullshit experience because it's familiar? that monogamy is "the safety of dull repetition"? no, because it's obviously not - each experience is new and different, even though the partner is the same. and perhaps, this is a bad example, equating sex with music - but, i really don't think so. i think that music holds just as many spiritual properties as sex, if not more so. but whatever, maybe you think of sex as the highest form of experience. so, let's use an example that is more purely sensual: ice cream. is eating the same ice cream flavor over and over again falling into "the safety of dull repetition"? maybe, but each time you let a chunk of coffee ice cream melt in your mouth, it is absolute heaven, no matter how many thousands of times you have done it before.

it's the same thing with music. i have heard some albums countless times, and each time i listen to them, i am elevated to some sort of heightened state. midnight marauders. born in the usa. under the table and dreaming. baduizm. wildflowers. mellon collie. odelay. post. al green's greatest hits. 10,000 maniacs unplugged. like a sex partner or coffee ice cream, you find something magical each time you sleep with one of these albums. r

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