"I have been trying to write a haiku for you... / I'm trying not to try too hard."
-- Tally Hall, "Haiku"
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My car is now my own--title, insurance, all of it. Watch, now it crumbles...
Because of limited CD space on the visor sleeve, many CDs have been reduced to circle scraps of scratched tracks. It kills the ear to pop in an album and hear the musicians skipping, clipping words like bad teenager poetry, wrangling rhythms, needling the tunes. So I spent before-lunch and after-lunch re-burning on blanks. With one more roadtrip looming, my musical arsenal needed replenishing.
(That, and I've also grown to wonder why the hell I included certain songs on a travel mix MP3 CD. Sorry, random Disney songs and America's Greatest Hits, but Tally Hall and Ditty Bops are moving in.)
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I also made a mix CD for someone else--the first time I've done that in years. And my feelings (pardon the pun) are mixed: At once, I'm happy to share the juiciest tracks in my collection, but then I second-guess each one, like I'm choosing an IMF team or something. Is this one really worthy of the number-one slot? Should I pick an instrumental piece for track two? Doesn't this song make you want to fall asleep, and if so, why is it between rock and reverb? Are the Moody Blues ever okay to ignore?
And above all concerns: How true must I be to my actual taste? What if it tastes like shit to someone else?
"Trying not to try too hard?" asked the frog to the toad.
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On the assertive end, I figured car insurance rates and was surprised to get some low quotes. If I stick with my online bank, the basic package is cheapest, ideal if I can promise myself not to get into freakish auto tangles. These real-life matters make me feel responsible, like dabbing cologne behind the ears instead of under the chin, or steering impulses to eat at Panera. (In other news, the Bacon Turkey Bravo might be the best sandwich I've ever tasted.) Anxiety rips at the door, but I'm trying to stay together, weightless, calm. I just try to see these things for the simple hurdles they are, no more than handing in bibliographies and paying dues.
And the car is mine. That helps.
2 comments:
Some advide on Mixtapes, from Nick Hornby inHigh Fidelity:
"To me, making a tape is like writing a letter — there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again. A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do. You've got to kick off with a corker, to hold the attention (I started with "Got to Get You Off My Mind", but then realized that she might not get any further than track one, side one if I delivered what she wanted straightaway, so I buried it in the middle of side two), and then you've got to up it a notch, or cool it a notch, and you can't have white music and black music together, unless the white music sounds like black music, and you can't have two tracks by the same artist side by side, unless you've done the whole thing in pairs and...oh, there are loads of rules."
Yes, making mixes might be the nerdiest/ most thoughtful thing one can do for another.
(Wow, I am such a dork...)
I agree. Mixing music for someone is tough.
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