Showing posts with label Walking Through My Dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walking Through My Dreams. Show all posts

Monday, March 10, 2014

WALKING THROUGH MY DREAMS







It’s the revolving door, mildly insistent but insinuating argument again. 

I am self-stuck in the past endlessly reliving things I already know, making myself unavailable for new experience. 

Even when steeped in ancient history studies, I have always tried to honor Charles Fourier’s tenet “il faut ĂȘtre absolument moderne.”  But in a world where so-called “thought leaders” dictate so-called “post-modern” ideas and values to would-be acolytes and it is considered essential above all to despise Sarah Palin with passion rendering Christ’s Passion cool and platonic by comparison, I am finding it difficult to board the train.

Driving to-and-from Washington yesterday retrieving Mulan from her stimulating weeklong academic program, I tuned Pandora to my Pretty Things channel.  Caroline liked and asked about a non-Pretties track she liked; neither of us were familiar with the song or the artist.   She’s fairly new to Pandora and wasn’t aware that the service mixes up the music to include “simpatico” material with eponymous artist channel fare.  This time we heard a fine, tight contemporary r&b tune in the Pretty Things/Rolling Stones tradition.  Both the music and lyrics were catchy, non-retro-derivative and bright.  Caroline took the opportunity to renew her challenge to me to try again to open my mind to new, non-ancient music and let light and air penetrate and freshen my Miss Havisham attic-mind.  In her loving view, I might “live a little.”





Reading one of Andy Warhol’s entertaining books a long time ago, I remember him mentioning how important it is to try to listen to well-intentioned advice, and clearly one should pay close attention to one’s own wife.  So, for her sake at least, I guess I’ll try to climb out of my rut. 

In the meantime, however, I am happy to share again this superb psychedelic era Pretty Things track, which I have always loved and also this break-frame Small Faces number immortalizing the band’s amphetamine dealer. 

All Aboard!  And as we leave the station, let’s please get rid of Daylight Savings Time or at least the twice-yearly time changeover.  Post-modern society neither requires nor desires it.