I've been learning to ignore my innate distrust of hedonism.
We recently discovered this enormous, loud, bright, ridiculously fun (and padded) play center full of millions upon millions of children careening to and fro screaming AAAAAAHHHHHH OHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOY MY LIFE, IN THIS MOMENT, IS FINALLY FULL OF MEANING, DIRECTION, AND PURPOSE BECAUSE THIS PLACE IS SO AWESOME!!! In a small way, it may be proof that -- at least for children -- there is an afterlife, and it's worth being good for. At the very least, it's existence will one day be held up as an example of how 2007 was the triumphant pinnacle of human civilization.
But this just isn't right. Surely these people have some kind of hidden agenda. Karmicly, we're spending too much in this place. The pendulum will inevitably swing the other way and send us headlong into an inescapable depression -- so maybe we should at least pretend like we're not having such a good time because you know that somewhere, somehow, someone is watching, or at least keeping score, and for this ubiquitous indulgence we, the merrymakers, will most certainly be punished.
Where the fuck does this come from? Are my genes so soiled with the bullshit ideology of my self-loathing, puritanical ancestors that I'm distrustful of Radijazz, the most wonderful playscape created by mortal hand? I'm not even Catholic, for Christ's sake!
This is why I never made it as a musician. Sure, I could write songs, and I played in some bands, but the other guys could really take drugs -- with that unchecked disregard for personal well-being that only real artists have. They had sex with strangers, together, in the back of vans, while I conveniently made other plans to mask the fact that the whole thing made me just a little uncomfortable.
And this is never going to be me. (Somewhere, reading this, Lady-A says: "thank fuck.") But as Little-E gets older, I hope she never loses her passion, and the almost overwhelming, unfettered joy she's able to experience right now. It's one of the many things about her that's truly remarkable.
tags: radijazz, guilt, joy
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We recently discovered this enormous, loud, bright, ridiculously fun (and padded) play center full of millions upon millions of children careening to and fro screaming AAAAAAHHHHHH OHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOYOHBOY MY LIFE, IN THIS MOMENT, IS FINALLY FULL OF MEANING, DIRECTION, AND PURPOSE BECAUSE THIS PLACE IS SO AWESOME!!! In a small way, it may be proof that -- at least for children -- there is an afterlife, and it's worth being good for. At the very least, it's existence will one day be held up as an example of how 2007 was the triumphant pinnacle of human civilization.
But this just isn't right. Surely these people have some kind of hidden agenda. Karmicly, we're spending too much in this place. The pendulum will inevitably swing the other way and send us headlong into an inescapable depression -- so maybe we should at least pretend like we're not having such a good time because you know that somewhere, somehow, someone is watching, or at least keeping score, and for this ubiquitous indulgence we, the merrymakers, will most certainly be punished.
Where the fuck does this come from? Are my genes so soiled with the bullshit ideology of my self-loathing, puritanical ancestors that I'm distrustful of Radijazz, the most wonderful playscape created by mortal hand? I'm not even Catholic, for Christ's sake!
This is why I never made it as a musician. Sure, I could write songs, and I played in some bands, but the other guys could really take drugs -- with that unchecked disregard for personal well-being that only real artists have. They had sex with strangers, together, in the back of vans, while I conveniently made other plans to mask the fact that the whole thing made me just a little uncomfortable.
And this is never going to be me. (Somewhere, reading this, Lady-A says: "thank fuck.") But as Little-E gets older, I hope she never loses her passion, and the almost overwhelming, unfettered joy she's able to experience right now. It's one of the many things about her that's truly remarkable.
tags: radijazz, guilt, joy
save to del.icio.us


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