I had this TV show on. The end credits rolled and I couldn’t tell you what the hell, even took me a minute to figure the name of the show. One of the culprits was this
Now is as good a time as any to type, I don’t watch these and I don’t usually cruise YouTube randomly looking for things (as this song demonstrates. Sometimes I’ll follow YouTube suggestions down the rabbit hole of If you liked this, Then …). But, no, if I’m writing an entry around a song, whether the mood or the song itself, I’m typing while the video runs, not watching. When I’m using YouTube like a radio again I’m not looking at it.
I am not suggesting the way I use YouTube is cool or proper or … anything. I’m making possible excuses where none are necessary, maybe, for video content. I’d be bummed if I were missing out on offensive content or nudity or something. I’m more apologizing for what may or may not be the artistic talent or lack thereof of whoever put together the video.
I’m not sure what age you had to be to be part of the MTV generation, which, though I assume it still broadcasts, really refers to their early life as a music video station and not the failed cultural mirror of nonstop reality shows (a sort of jerry springer for the pierced eyebrow set). My second ex definitely thought herself part of the MTV generation. That puts me within a five year margin. I was certainly under twenty when it was all the rage.
Um, that last paragraph run out of subject before I could get to this; with the exception of Beavis and Butthead, I’ve never watched MTV for longer than ten minutes in a row. Ever. If it was playing at a party or a bar I was in, I’d be doing something else. I know, that sounds normal, everyone should be doing something else at a bar or party. But, I’ve gone to game parties and sports bars to catch a game. I’m just saying MTV was never my cup of tea, I didn’t hate it, I just didn’t like. When people reference music videos I rarely know what they are talking about. I don’t associate music and videos in an MTV kind of way.
I saw Pink Floyd in Soldier Field Chicago in 1976. Part of their live show is this sort of abstract video with hints of heavy metal to it. In that Venue they had this giant round screen erected high above the stage. It was cool. They also had a living room of balloons; guy in an easy chair, dog, TV set. But without the 100 thousand tripping fans, the wind off Lake Michigan and brilliant back lit pollution of the city, the balloons and screen were just props.
In case I haven’t made it clear I’ve been trying to work certain things out here as much as I have at the fake shrinks. Dawned on me how uselessly redundant it was to talk about shrink appointments here, so I’m going to do it differently.
What all that shit means to me today, personally, is my keen concentration is waning. The last book I read took almost six months. One piece of it is whatever weird shit is going on with my eye or brain, the other is concentration. I’ve gone through periods of my life where I was bored with everything and my concentration lasted just long enough to be bored. That’s not what this is. I don’t know what this is but I want it to stop. I figure if I type enough and talk enough I’ll stumble across that monkey wrench in stack of hay or needle in my machine. I’m also willing to concede it’s something else, something I can’t say its name and take away its power. I’m willing to concede that, just not yet.
I think one of nieces has completely lost her shit. Another went through major heart surgery. I haven’t been there for either of them except the occasional thumbs up on Facebook which is almost insulting. I’d be guilty except I have nothing for them, I don’t have any help. The one who I’m most capable of helping doesn’t think she needs any, the other needed heart surgeons, not an uncle.
Still fighting YouTube for Michelle shocked songs. This one was hidden.
My back has been bad lately. Spasm. I miss the chronic back pain, I miss the constancy. This fucking hurts. Another I hope to talk or type out; news ways of using my mind to positively affect my body. I know, there’s a book by this guy …, A video …, you went to a seminar … I’ve been at this a while. I have a bag of tricks. Right at the moment none of them are working. I think it’s an end user thing, but, that’s the thing about those kind of tricks old or new, it’s always an end user thing.
There’s an old joke “Farmer why don’t you fix that leaky roof?”
“Well, when it’s raining it’s too wet to get up there and when it’s not the roof works as good as anybody else’s.”
“Farmer you’re not far from a fool are you?”
“Just this fence between us.”
“Farmer, have you lived here your whole life?”
“Not yet.”
I apologize for the MTV generation thing. I don’t know who comes up this shit. I think journalists when avoiding hard news write op ed pieces, I mean thousands of journalists writing thousands of op ed pieces like those theoretical monkeys in their theoretical eternity in front of theoretical typewriters recreating the collected works of William Shakespeare (I always thought that concept would work better if they also wrote the collected works of Pablo Neruda in Spanish. I mean given eternity as the premise why do those fucking monkeys have to do English and if English why Shakespeare and not, say, Vonnegut?) Oh, shit. I think journalists write catchy little phrases about a given generation and the catchiest sticks. I know there isn’t an official Generation-namer job, nor cabinet position, nor appointed by the head of a religion. Baby Boomers made sense, lot of relief fucking going on after the war.
Ok, if typing is the answer I think I’ve typed enough today. Enough to know these aren’t the right words for the task. Be nice to one another or get the fuck out of each other’s way.
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