and I don't know why, but I had this stray thought about homelessness on the drive home tonight, and it got me traipsing down this deep-dark thought trail punctuated by musical tangents... like, what would it be like to have no access to music?
Can you imagine not being able to listen to your favorite songs AT ALL, much less whenever you want? No phone, no iPod, no computer, no headphones, no mp3s - not the good kind of silence where you're alone in nature, surrounded by trees and sunlight, the smells of fragrant flora and elemental earth, the faunal ambiance. It would be so horribly quiet of good sounds, and wouldn't that make all of the awful noise of humanity even louder? What would I have been like—and would I have even made it this far in life—if I hadn't had music to stimulate and expand my creative processes in my formative years?
While at first the thought-train's friction was generating altruisticity that made me want to go back to volunteering on a regular basis, the end of the line felt like a black hole filled with the haphazard tapestries of the homeless condition hopelessly tangled up in the tragic truths of a much stronger social machine to which catharsis is merely a masochistic gnat, and I realized—not for the first time, but for the first time from this thought vector—that this is yet another case of "nobody can unravel the former without first dismantling the latter." This all made me very sad, so I listened to this to focus my thoughts - because I can... which really only made me sadder.
Can you imagine not being able to listen to your favorite songs AT ALL, much less whenever you want? No phone, no iPod, no computer, no headphones, no mp3s - not the good kind of silence where you're alone in nature, surrounded by trees and sunlight, the smells of fragrant flora and elemental earth, the faunal ambiance. It would be so horribly quiet of good sounds, and wouldn't that make all of the awful noise of humanity even louder? What would I have been like—and would I have even made it this far in life—if I hadn't had music to stimulate and expand my creative processes in my formative years?
While at first the thought-train's friction was generating altruisticity that made me want to go back to volunteering on a regular basis, the end of the line felt like a black hole filled with the haphazard tapestries of the homeless condition hopelessly tangled up in the tragic truths of a much stronger social machine to which catharsis is merely a masochistic gnat, and I realized—not for the first time, but for the first time from this thought vector—that this is yet another case of "nobody can unravel the former without first dismantling the latter." This all made me very sad, so I listened to this to focus my thoughts - because I can... which really only made me sadder.
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