Bars play a terrible choice of music. Or is it just the bars that I go to? Which brings up a better question: why do I go to bars? If I pop on the I-tunes, or play a record, snap a bottle-cap in my own digs, wouldn't I be better off? Probably, but I don't like drinking by myself, for two reasons: one, it leads to late-night reading of the NT-Times, which leads to weird dreams in which my mind seems to think it knows foreign languages. Secondly, I like to overhear people talk. Especially people from France.
So my latest foray has been the Beatles. Ha. I never really digested them, but after giving them a retrospective, I realize that they're too easy to like. But I have become affected by the album Beatles for Sale, perhaps for the dreary 1-2-3 of "No Reply," "I'm A Loser," and "Dressed in Black." Then a strange, way-too-upbeat cover song. Then I get bored and put on some Mission to Burma. Where is this culture going? Insane. The technology allows us to be causally schitzofrantic. Amen.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
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