Ditch the Shuffle

I've been going back in time. I'm real believer in the potential of pop music, though I'm a lover of modern orchestral music and classical. I think pop is the music with the most creative potential, even if it is the area in which the least creative potential is realized, as things stand. Anyway, I have been going back in time to check out the the particular tunes of the pop greats that we don't usually hear.

My latest purchase is Elton John's Tumbleweed Connection. (It's really, really good. But this isn't a music review. I hate music reviews.) The album got me thinking about something that has floated through my head ever since the iPod era began: the advent of the MP3 has some great effects, especially on young people whose diversity of musical experience is surprisingly broader than it was ten years ago. (I have seen kids with Metallica, Abba, Wu Tang Clan, The Beatles, Eminem and Sinatra on their playlists. Of course, this could indicate either a total lack of musical discernment or a delightfully broad musical view, depending on your perspective.)

Childless Children

"My mom .  .  ." he said, snorting a little.

"Yeah," I know what you mean, answered a friend. (They were sharing a joke.) "My dad is the same way."

All night long, the conversation went on, about parents. Snacks were eaten, pitchers of beer emptied -- an easy conversation that everyone agreed with: parents . . .  Eyes rolled. This was a post-teen parental evaluation. The anger -- the angst -- was gone. It had been replaced with cool superiority that sounded like the dismissal of any legitimacy; the tone of those who believed they had outstripped their archaic mothers and fathers in every intellectual way . . .

Somewhere else, a father paces the floor, at one in the morning, trying to get his cholicky baby to sleep, smiling gently despite his exhaustion after a full day of work and with another one looming in just a few hours.

The Magnetic Mind

The human brain is a magnet. But imagine it as a magnet that works on multiple charges rather than the binary poles we know of: negative and positive. Imagine that there are innumerable types of charges in existence.

Imagine, then, that our brains are each a magnet and that there are myriad other magnets on the plane that is the world in which we live. These other magnets are ideas, concepts and perspectives on life. We cruise around atop this plane (see it as a tabletop with magnets lying everywhere) and, at a certain point, we pass by a magnet with a particular charge and -- click -- in snaps over to us and becomes part of our minds' concepts.

This happens without conscious reasoning. We are simply attracted to a concept and we attach to it instantly; for instance, the teenager who adopts a "look" (maybe low-slung skinny jeans with the boxers hanging out and jet black hair over ebony eye-makeup) doesn't necessarily reason through his targeted look. He is simply sees it on someone else, is attracted to it, and he aligns with it.

Back to Back

What if, when we got married, we stuck with some of the "till death do us part" and some of the "forever and ever" stuff but we added some things that are a little more prosaic. I'll bet if we added these vows, more marriages would last a lifetime:

1) When I'm mad, I promise to tell you what I am mad about instead of making you guess out of vengeance for something you probably don't know you did.

2) I promise never to walk in to the house without saying hello to you.

3) I promise never to complain to my friends about you. Little betrayals are still betrayals.

4) I promise not to separate from you the second we walk into a party, as if there is a rule that says we can't talk until we get back into the car.

Dear Albrecht: V



Albrecht Soothspitz, b. 1347

Take heart, dear readers! Albrecht is back. This batch of letters took him an extraordinarily long time. (Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a magically preserved medieval philosopher supplied with quills in New Jersey? -- especially when said medieval philosopher goes through epic stretches of ennui?) While is Wii addiction eventually wore off, Al developed a powerful attachment to fantasy football. He has no idea, whatsoever, how the game is played, mind you, but he so enjoyed the onion dip and Guinness at the league meetings, he couldn't resist. Please, as always, bask in his wisdom. Then . . . evaluate it carefully, for your sake and the sake of those around you.
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Dear Albrecht:

My mom is all mad at me because she saw some pictures of me on Facebook. I was at a college party and, in the pictures, I am lifting my shirt. But, like, I had a bra on. Like, big deal. It's not like I was naked. I don't see what she is all worked up about. What do you think? I don't want to be, like, a prude.

Signed,
PROUD TO BE ME