Listening to random weird music in the background as I go about my routine—cleaning, sprucing, washing, dusting, missing, is one of my top favourite things (the listening to music, not the chores). I must confess, however that I've rather skimped on new music. Most of what I've been listening a lot to these days is music that stayed hidden and ignored in my forgotten music folders.
It was a museum of sorts, and I'd to blow away the digital dust that'd settled on it from so many years of staying in abandoned wasteland of my hard drives. It includes a lot of classic, post rock/metal, modern jazz, western classical and Japanese funk.
oh, and this..this has been driving me a bit crazy for a while
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDlVfWCDVrg
There're a tear or two as I say this, but I haven't been listening to as much music as I did last year, or from time before that. To think I was always plugged in to listening something at all times, I felt like a blackhole, sucking in all music from all over, in the vacuum of my insides. I'd sleep late nights/early mornings cuz I'd been listening to different channels on tune in radio the whole night through, and exhilarated and joyous as I'd feel, I never gave much thought to anything except spending most of my waking hours listening to music.
It feels like hour autobahn has narrowed down to a dingy back alley, or that some part of me that appreciated and loved somethings intensely has withered, weathered, worn down with time..or that probably it's just a phase.
But there is a silver lining, in that, there are impulsive moments when an irrational urge to shut myself with comforting music overwhelms me. A few hours of just that, and I'm myself again.
Traveling..now that's one time when I can't even think of getting on without music, and I've written enough about that in the archives.
I'm guessing/hoping this really is just a phase. I wish I could develop the superpowers wherein I could listen to music while writing or reading. That talent eludes me.
Just writing this post has put me in mourning. I'm bereaved at the thought of limiting music as background noise for my chores. What on earth is my day crammed full of? I know the answer, but I'm too scared to say it out aloud in my head, lest it tear the already frayed fibrous chords of assumed reality.
It was a museum of sorts, and I'd to blow away the digital dust that'd settled on it from so many years of staying in abandoned wasteland of my hard drives. It includes a lot of classic, post rock/metal, modern jazz, western classical and Japanese funk.
oh, and this..this has been driving me a bit crazy for a while
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDlVfWCDVrg
There're a tear or two as I say this, but I haven't been listening to as much music as I did last year, or from time before that. To think I was always plugged in to listening something at all times, I felt like a blackhole, sucking in all music from all over, in the vacuum of my insides. I'd sleep late nights/early mornings cuz I'd been listening to different channels on tune in radio the whole night through, and exhilarated and joyous as I'd feel, I never gave much thought to anything except spending most of my waking hours listening to music.
It feels like hour autobahn has narrowed down to a dingy back alley, or that some part of me that appreciated and loved somethings intensely has withered, weathered, worn down with time..or that probably it's just a phase.
But there is a silver lining, in that, there are impulsive moments when an irrational urge to shut myself with comforting music overwhelms me. A few hours of just that, and I'm myself again.
Traveling..now that's one time when I can't even think of getting on without music, and I've written enough about that in the archives.
I'm guessing/hoping this really is just a phase. I wish I could develop the superpowers wherein I could listen to music while writing or reading. That talent eludes me.
Just writing this post has put me in mourning. I'm bereaved at the thought of limiting music as background noise for my chores. What on earth is my day crammed full of? I know the answer, but I'm too scared to say it out aloud in my head, lest it tear the already frayed fibrous chords of assumed reality.
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