It is almost midnight and I should be in bed -- but the hardest battle of the day awaits me: what do I listen to in bed? It is meditation for me -- it is freedom -- and it is a freaking hard decision.
Do I listen to something new someone sent me? If I hate it, I will lie awake plotting my revenge on the artist, the person who recommended them to me and that entire gender of music. Jewel’s music usually puts me to sleep so you’d think her lullaby CD would be perfect -- nope. Why? Yodeling. My inner child now needs therapy. Yet I just requested her latest CD AND her country CD from my library. I liked her first CD (Pieces of You) from bloody 1994 -- I am an optimist. Maybe her next one won’t suck.
Tonight I must choose wiser. Jill Sobule? I know her and she doesn't yodel. Good start. Before I met her, she seemed like a friend. She is now one of my favorite bipeds and my favorite songwriter. Pete Townsend? There is something so warm, yet unsentimental about his work, solo and with the Who that shines more and more in my mind. George Gershwin? His sense of longing reflects my own restlessness. Mozart? He is deceptively simple and full of wit. You mutter that he didn't laugh like he does in the movie Amadeus -- not really. You haven’t really listened to his music, it is full of laughter. Brian Wilson will make me cry and smile. Debussy will make me dream. Rodgers and Hart will make me laugh at the crap we do for love. Sinatra in the wee small hours of the morning is a lonely yet lovely walk.
You see my problem -- I am in love with so much music and a little fickle. I am a stalker fan of a hundred composers with new ones being added all the time. My collection is full of strange lights and I don’t know which one to fly to tonight. Which emotional world do I fuse with my own dreams and find the rapture that will quiet my over active mind? I may never get to bed at this rate.
Do I listen to something new someone sent me? If I hate it, I will lie awake plotting my revenge on the artist, the person who recommended them to me and that entire gender of music. Jewel’s music usually puts me to sleep so you’d think her lullaby CD would be perfect -- nope. Why? Yodeling. My inner child now needs therapy. Yet I just requested her latest CD AND her country CD from my library. I liked her first CD (Pieces of You) from bloody 1994 -- I am an optimist. Maybe her next one won’t suck.
Tonight I must choose wiser. Jill Sobule? I know her and she doesn't yodel. Good start. Before I met her, she seemed like a friend. She is now one of my favorite bipeds and my favorite songwriter. Pete Townsend? There is something so warm, yet unsentimental about his work, solo and with the Who that shines more and more in my mind. George Gershwin? His sense of longing reflects my own restlessness. Mozart? He is deceptively simple and full of wit. You mutter that he didn't laugh like he does in the movie Amadeus -- not really. You haven’t really listened to his music, it is full of laughter. Brian Wilson will make me cry and smile. Debussy will make me dream. Rodgers and Hart will make me laugh at the crap we do for love. Sinatra in the wee small hours of the morning is a lonely yet lovely walk.
You see my problem -- I am in love with so much music and a little fickle. I am a stalker fan of a hundred composers with new ones being added all the time. My collection is full of strange lights and I don’t know which one to fly to tonight. Which emotional world do I fuse with my own dreams and find the rapture that will quiet my over active mind? I may never get to bed at this rate.
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