Strictly Personal

I love quiet music, a child of classical music, a sister of film music, a distant cousin of elevator music. I am not into loud “listen to me” music. The only thing they get me to do is shake my booty which I find myself rarely doing. But when driving or in need for some nourishment, I turn to my quiet music.

With quiet music, I mean Philip Glass, not Mozart (who I also love) which is classical. I like something that is taking a risk with form but is trying to keep the other elements of music intact like harmony and melody.

When I listen to this kind of music, I seem to become a storyteller telling stories I never knew existed. Not fantasies like Lord of the Rings but stories about people I have never met, and for whatever reason I suddenly seem to understand. I get them, I know they fit in the scheme of things. I understand them better than they understand themselves.

I especially love when quiet music has an element of suspense. It could be the most boring drive but when a quiet suspenseful song on my mix cd starts to unravel, the hairs on my arms stand up. A physical sensationthat makes me revel in the mystery of myself, my body. Unlike say dancing where I am aware of what causes the sensation and what is to be had.

There is not a bigger supply of creativity for me than this kind of music: quiet, unassuming, giving.

Music is “The Secret.” Yes, it is that simple. Less thinking about thinking. More listening.

Listening, a.k.a. thinking outwards, entails an interest outside of yourself. You want rewards, sure there is plenty. Curiosity and compassion. You can’t help yourself any better. Well actually you can but that requires taste and taste is handed out unevenly.

Trust me, there is no easter egg to find in your brain. Stop searching.

Something that I have been doing a lot of thinking about since I moved from New York city to a small town outside of Raleigh. I have gotten fatter. I socialize less. The restaurants around here are all fast food, unless I go into Cary. Random adventures pop up in less frequency.

However, I get more done because I spend more time at home/ office. There is a space that you call your own. To enjoy your dog, to work on projects. There is room for all of this. Traveling in cars is less stressful than say the subways. But it is clearly less fun.

I think people’s expressions vary from suburbia to urban. Suburban’s smile fully. The city dwellers, however, are more expressive from moment to moment.

I wish there was more of a community feel in the suburbs. I don’t mean the neighborhood community association. I mean like artists coming together. There is not too many of them and they usually work in an insular environment.

Inspired to write this today because of this article.

I don’t expect too many people follow this blog (since it is top-secret). But for those that do, apologies for the constant changes to the look.

drop a bucket

drop everything

see all that holds you

believe those strokes are for a reason

sometimes they wander

sometimes they curl

when you step back

enjoy the pattern

never just see your wants

see rhythm

pleasure lies there

your mysticism also lies there

I wish more of my friends blogged, someplace they would write everyday, where I could check with them. There are times I don’t care about cool things or interesting things on the web but just my friends. How they are feeling? What mood they are in? People rarely do that.

Why the need for mystery?