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| I made a new Xanga, because I want to start fresh on the site.
My name is writerinthesun.
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| Well, here we are. The third or so week of summer, and it's been good, but I haven't been the productive machine I'd always intended. I've hardly written; barely created one piece of art; not been very creative or expressive at all. And I feel that no one's interested in my interests. I don't think people like me very much; maybe I'm boring. Whatever. No one wants to see me. I wanted to write this story but I haven't felt motivated. All I've been doing is reading. Reading, swimming, listening to music on a couple long car rides. Still inside myself, never discussing what I love because no one else loves it, and therefore no one really cares. But I'll listen to them, oh, I will listen to anyone else talk endlessly about what they love. I will be patient. What I need is someone to be patient with me. Or better yet, for someone to understand.
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| Roger Waters' recent return (in the form of the upcoming Wall tour) has prompted my own return into the young, heady days of seventh grade and the height of my Pink Floyd obsession. I recently picked up my copy of "Crazy Diamond: Syd Barrett and the Dawn of Pink Floyd" (the Syd bio I used in my little school report on him in '05) and decided to re-read it. For the first time since Syd's death in '06, actually. I just finished the book a few minutes ago, and I honestly feel that I will never get over Syd Barrett's death. It's not that his music is my favorite of the Floyd's (though I do love it, along with his solo albums), but the fact that he started Pink Floyd, and will forever be a part of it. As Roger Waters has said, Floyd could never have happened without him, but then, it could never have gone on with him. Part of me believes that everything happens for a reason, or rather, that certain things are destined to happen, almost like fate. I almost believe in fate, and I wonder still whether it was Syd's fate to have this explosively creative period (of less than two years), and very quickly have it all come crashing down on him. I wonder if, no matter what, Syd was condemned to experience this breakdown simply because he entered into the world of music. There are so many theories as to what made Syd break down, and many of them point to the music business and how Syd hated commercialism and the pressure of having to create hit songs, and being forced into discipline when he hated rules. Some theories point to drugs. Would it have been possible for Syd to become a musician without these pressures (and as a result NOT have broken down, suffered greatly, and end his career)? I don't think it would have. This is what makes the story that much more sad. The side of Syd that we, as fans, know - his commercial success with Floyd - is what caused him to suffer and what brought that very career to an end.
Syd's story is an absolute tragedy, which I first heard when I was twelve years old. Now, at seventeen, I understand its gravity and sadness much more than I could have at that age. Either that, or I just forgot all of the little details, the anecdotes, that make Syd's story so sad - how his ex-fiance, years after their breakup, ran into Syd in a shop, barely recognizable due to his incredible weight gain and shaven head, and was invited back to his place. And how, as Syd puttered in the kitchen making her tea, she was overwhelmed by all the bad memories and simply left him there. The tragic nature of Syd's story is two-fold - the first side of it is his mental breakdown, which caused a lot of personal suffering for himself and those close to him. The second side is one that everyone in the world, sooner or later, shares with Syd, and that is death. Death is sad, so Syd's death is sad. He died from complications due to diabetes, at the age of 60 - a health-related issue at a somewhat old age. It's sad, personally I was devastated to hear it, but considering all of Syd's "misadventures," death probably could have been much worse and much earlier. But I think that, when we know of one's past suffering, or of hardships that one faced in life, we feel much more when that person dies. When I read Syd's story and tell myself that he's dead, it makes the story sadder to me, and it makes his death sadder as well. It just does. I miss Syd. I know that he disliked being reminded of *that* period in his life, by fans or whoever, which is extremely sad but very understandable. If I ever, by chance, saw him on the street or in a store somewhere, I would have smiled at him and simply said, "Thank you, Mr. Barrett."
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| Lately I've realized that I love the Food Network. Oftentimes it's the only channel with something good on. Yes, it, like 90% of the channels on TV, is overrun with reality shows. But these are ones worth watching, most of the time.
The Next Food Network Star is probably one of the better competition shows out there. Shows like American Idol only scratch the surface of what is at the heart of the competition. Honestly, there isn't much to judge there except singing ability and looks. But on TNFNS, so many factors go into picking the right person - their cooking ability (of course), their camera presence, their personality on camera and stage, their inspiration(s), the "theme" of their cooking, and other things. Watching the show really made me realize all of the things a good host chef needs to be. It interests me, and I'm not big on cooking. I know how to make cereal, that's about it.
There are lots of other channels that have jumped on the food bandwagon, with shows like Hell's Kitchen and Cake Boss, but yeah. They're not on the Food Network. Food Network had food shows before food shows were hip. It's like, who are you gonna support? The first real hippies who tie-dyed their shirts and applied duct tape peace signs to their jackets? Or the rich kids who caught on later and made it a trend so huge you can't pass a Jersey shore boardwalk shop without seeing faux tie-dye and peace signs glaring at you from all angles?
I rest my case.
And, I love Alton Brown. He's kinda brilliant. He's the one I want teaching me everyday at school.
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| The other day, my family along with my brother's girlfriend went down the shore. It's tradition that, for the ride to and from, we bring a dozen or so CDs. I usually pick them out, raiding both mine and my father's collections (which really, we share). Understand that my parents and I like the same music. My sister tolerates it, even enjoys it sometimes. Also understand, my dad and I are quite serious about music. None of this, downloading one hit song off Limewire bullshit. We take trips down to our favorite mom-and-pop record shop, and buy the CDs we want, and listen to them fully. To us, music is an album. Not a song. We listen to a wide range, and have old hippie sensibilities, though we do dabble in the contemporary indie tunes of WXPN. On this particular trip, my dad started off with a Plain White T's album, which I bought him for Father's Day. I'd never heard the album before, but it wasn't bad. I wasn't sure if I was hearing things, but I thought my brother's girlfriend, sitting behind me, let out a groan. OK, whatever. Then we put on Greetings From Asbury Park, a Springsteen album, at my request. As the first notes of "Blinded By The Light" played out, I heard her say, audibly, "What? This isn't even, like, rock n roll..." Uhm, what exactly is your idea of rock n roll, hun? Cause it doesn't get much more "rock n roll" than Springsteen. Maybe she thought the Jonas Bros were rock n roll, HA! Alright, I was shocked. Firstly, that someone could be SO intolerant that the first notes of an album automatically turn them off. It's good stuff. Whether you like it or not, it's good music and it's shocking that someone could be so unaccepting. Give it a CHANCE. I guess she had no choice but to, I certainly wasn't turning it off! So later, Mary Queen of Arkansas came on. Now I hear, "THIS is music?!" These are in mumbles, but I can hear it clearly! So can my sister; I see her roll her eyes and almost laugh in a "You're an absolute bitch" way. Wow. What is her idea of "music"? Does it need to have a tape-loop repetitive beat and a guy who can hardly do basic math muttering profanities, or a chick who can't sing for her life screeching out cliche lyrics? I didn't understand. I have come across many people with less-than-intellectual taste in music, but I'd never heard anyone talk so ignorantly of some good old rock n roll, even if they didn't really like it. Most people, as low-brow as their music may be, have at least heard something outside of the tiny bubble in which they operate. So at least they KNOW what OTHER MUSIC SOUNDS LIKE. But I get the impression that this chick had no idea. She had never heard anything other than the top forty crap played at every high school prom and sweet sixteen party. So she didn't realize that, yes, Springsteen is indeed music. And it's quality! And that's just the beginning. I won't even get into the fact that she was in OUR car, and should be grateful she was invited down the shore with us. You don't walk into someone's house and just begin insulting something that is special to them. So why would you get into someone's car, invited on a trip, and blatantly insult the family's music? I wanted to say to her, "Oh, sorry, do you want to borrow my ipod?" So this whole thing really upset me. It dampened my trip slightly, but I still had a good time. I made sure we blasted the Simon and Garfunkel and Pink Floyd for the trip home, and all was well. But I will say this, my opinion of this girl has lowered a good amount. I'd always given her chances, accepted her. But to be so blatantly ignorant and blatantly rude and just plain stupid pissed me off too much. Meanness and ignorance are tolerable separately, but when combined make for one terrible person. | | |
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