Sorry, Taylor Swift, I'm busy

If truth be told, most things I read are reactive; nobody is giving anyone something to think about, only something to react to.  Obviously, the Left is not thinking at all.  I saw a child of about three carrying on in the grocery store yesterday; his expression looked and sounded like every leftist face in the "news" this morning.

People who find wonder and awe in this world spend almost no time contemplating the dull and uninteresting things politicians and celebrities say; it's just noise from the vegetable aisle.  We can rehear those dolled up and imitative thoughts expressed anywhere anytime. 

We are immersed in a childishness that ill fits our best self.

Taylor Swift isn't "woke"; she's sleeping through a world of music beyond her comprehension.  I watched and listened to her gay thing video; it all looks and sounds so sadly staged.  As if someone said, "All right, look like you're having fun, people."  The strutting is more apparent than the fun or the point.

Music, like the solar system and societies, is bound by physics.  Double a musical frequency from 440 to 880, and you get what our system calls an octave.  That is immutable physics in our world.

Now think of all the notes as planets revolving around you; a solar system of pitches possessing various intensities and shades of color that respond strongly to each other even though there is a vast space between them.  Some are close, some are far, and some are above you, others below.

Musicians who are wise apply that sonorous gravity with a light touch; they know our ears are highly attuned to these physical responses.  Celebrity pop stars use heavy-handed, well worn, and mechanical musical clichés to quickly and loudly fill up any space.

We need "space" to think.  Kill the space, kill the thinking.

Kill the thinking, kill important relationships.

I recently ran across an old and worn copy of  "Coming Home" by Jay Althouse.  I was reading through the piano part when suddenly the act became sublime.  The few notes, never more than six at a time, seemed to draw from each other; one planet sounded, and just the right few notes were left in easy and logical response.  Sometimes there were the only two notes that could have and should have responded, and there they were.  All the right spaces in time and place were there.

Such masterful control of musical elements is inspiring.  As if Mr. Althouse led and I followed him down a path we both knew was there all along — something worthy of sharing, something worthy of holding in our minds and hearts.

I'm never going to find anything of such value in a Taylor Swift video or political opinion.

That's just another rant from the vegetable aisle.

If truth be told, most things I read are reactive; nobody is giving anyone something to think about, only something to react to.  Obviously, the Left is not thinking at all.  I saw a child of about three carrying on in the grocery store yesterday; his expression looked and sounded like every leftist face in the "news" this morning.

People who find wonder and awe in this world spend almost no time contemplating the dull and uninteresting things politicians and celebrities say; it's just noise from the vegetable aisle.  We can rehear those dolled up and imitative thoughts expressed anywhere anytime. 

We are immersed in a childishness that ill fits our best self.

Taylor Swift isn't "woke"; she's sleeping through a world of music beyond her comprehension.  I watched and listened to her gay thing video; it all looks and sounds so sadly staged.  As if someone said, "All right, look like you're having fun, people."  The strutting is more apparent than the fun or the point.

Music, like the solar system and societies, is bound by physics.  Double a musical frequency from 440 to 880, and you get what our system calls an octave.  That is immutable physics in our world.

Now think of all the notes as planets revolving around you; a solar system of pitches possessing various intensities and shades of color that respond strongly to each other even though there is a vast space between them.  Some are close, some are far, and some are above you, others below.

Musicians who are wise apply that sonorous gravity with a light touch; they know our ears are highly attuned to these physical responses.  Celebrity pop stars use heavy-handed, well worn, and mechanical musical clichés to quickly and loudly fill up any space.

We need "space" to think.  Kill the space, kill the thinking.

Kill the thinking, kill important relationships.

I recently ran across an old and worn copy of  "Coming Home" by Jay Althouse.  I was reading through the piano part when suddenly the act became sublime.  The few notes, never more than six at a time, seemed to draw from each other; one planet sounded, and just the right few notes were left in easy and logical response.  Sometimes there were the only two notes that could have and should have responded, and there they were.  All the right spaces in time and place were there.

Such masterful control of musical elements is inspiring.  As if Mr. Althouse led and I followed him down a path we both knew was there all along — something worthy of sharing, something worthy of holding in our minds and hearts.

I'm never going to find anything of such value in a Taylor Swift video or political opinion.

That's just another rant from the vegetable aisle.