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.
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