my careless contagion

A post no one asked for. My last post was kind of like the movie 28 Hours Later. This one is more like 28 Days Later. (Those who've seen the film will recognize the photo of him waking from his hospital bed to a very different reality.) If I'm still here writing when it's time for 28 Years Later, shoot me. Honestly, though, the comparison of my love life to a zombie apocalypse is apropos.  I can see why, in the old days, jilted lovers ended up in the loonie bin or went off to join the Foreign Legion. Because so many of your thoughts are about one person, and when that person leaves your life, you still think about them (synapses gotsta synapse), and your own thoughts become enemies. You can't escape your own brain. I don't know why my reaction was so powerful, but the upside of having an explosive emotional reaction is getting over it fast.  It doesn't simmer or twist or churn inside. Just felt what I needed to feel and was done.  I'll never feel those thing...

Been a while. Let's catch up.  I read Where the Crawdads Sing, starting in late July and ending early August. It's not rare that I read books, so why am I posting? All I wanted was a mindless book to read so searched for popular books and went to the public library. This one I found interesting. Normally, I check out at a kiosk, but this time it didn't work properly so took it to the counter. The woman looked it over a bit longer than necessary but didn't say anything. Maybe she knew I was in for something. Maybe she thought it an odd book for a man to read. Maybe she wondered if crawdads actually sing.  Where the Crawdads Sing refers to a place far away from civilization, was published in 2018, and was made into a movie, released in 2022. I had no knowledge of any of it, just wanted a book to occupy my mind. Checked out a Bret Easton Ellis book before this but returned it after two chapters because it wasn't sparking joy, so to speak. Normally, I enjoy his writing ...

Nothing fascinated me musically as much as the band Bad Religion. I used to spend so much time researching the band and its members, even talking to Jay Bentley on internet relay chat (IRC), #badreligion on undernet. The fascination really took hold when I was in college. I was bored, technologically inclined, and a wee bit malcontent.  No band is as misunderstood as Bad Religion, and some fans like it that way. It's a barrier to the band becoming massively popular (they are more popular outside the U.S.), but it also makes you feel like you're in on the joke. Others don't understand. That's the reason hardcore and punk rock were important to a lot of people. It was a way of excluding those who excluded them from society. When our bands became too popular (a subjective thought if there ever was), we called them poseurs and fled to other, lesser-known bands. Gotta keep it real. But I was always into Bad Religion and remained a fan (even though I didn't share their po...

This is a new song, and it's pretty good. It sounds older than its release date of 2023. It got a lot of airplay, I didn't like it at first, but after about 10 listens it started to make sense (I may be a little slow). So much of country music is about drinking (thumbs down), but let's go with that for this post. Since I likely won't still be writing here regularly after the 28th, this is a good time for the annual sobriety post.  It was April 10 years ago when I stopped drinking. Every year I memorialize what God did in my heart then. It's nothing short of a miracle. It's a miracle I function. A miracle I'm still alive. I'm literally a walking miracle, and people walk by me like I'm some ordinary Joe. They have no idea.  A decade without drinking is a curious thing. It was supposed to kill me. Like I got a get-out-of-jail-free card. A new lease on life. A new life, new identity, new responsibilities. Alcohol was my way of ending myself, and slowly. ...

I sat on the floor of the top-floor apartment in Bowling Green, Ohio, I shared with my then-girlfriend and listened to this song, poring over the lyrics and staying quiet the entire 8-plus minutes, wanting only to hear the music and whatever it meant. (At the time, this song was barely more than 10 years old, as it came out in 1989.) I was drunk, but not too drunk to appreciate the sentiment. "That's a beautiful song," I said when it was over, seemingly to no one, but Mike, my then-girlfriend's friend who slept that night on the couch, heard. (I never did ask if he and her had a relationship in the past. Some things were better off not known.) And he agreed like it was always so. Yet I had just discovered it. Music no longer holds that sort of meaning for me. I'm all angst-ed out. You can say the same about pictures. I don't fetishize them either. Maybe working with photos for 7.5 years as a graphic artist and much longer as amateur photographer weaned me off ...

The Smiths' How Soon Is Now? is iconic. Check out the lyrics . Certainly not a run-of-the-mill 80s song. It came out in '84 but didn't pick up steam until later. Do the lyrics make more sense when you know Morrissey (the singer/coauthor of this song) is vegetarian (since age 11) turned vegan? No wonder so much of his music is sad and "beta," as the kids would say. (Eating meat helps men produce testosterone.) Maybe that's why I want to talk about this song. It's about longing. It's about love. It's about longing for love. Saw a license plate recently that simply said, "SIMP," which I understand.  I realized perhaps too late in life the driving force of my being was the search for love. Just wanted to be loved. Looked everywhere for it. That search was behind all major failures and was the wound that drove the most virulent sins. Little did I know there is no human love that can satisfy, and only God can love me fully and in a way that hea...

Now for some real music! Haha, okay, what is a guy who grew up on hardcore posting a euro-dance hit from the 90s? Because it's awesome!  (The kids say it slaps.) I would flip back and forth on the radio between alternative and dance in the 90s. A lot of kids were into one or the other, but I craved all of it. I love music, and this song is still a favorite. It may not be the best Real McCoy had to offer, but we all heard this back in the day and danced a little in our econobox cars on our way to the future. And here we are in the future. Some of us still remember what life was like back then. Are we where we thought we'd be all these years later?  Honestly, I didn't think I'd make it this far. Thought I would be dead. No joke. Having the opinion of a foreshortened future is a symptom of PTSD gained from childhood trauma/abuse, which I endured. Common with everyone who endured longterm trauma. So, I can't complain. Pay stubs and bandaids. Paying bills and doing dishe...

Lewis Capaldi released this song in 2019. He is afflicted by Tourette Syndrome, when a person's body has uncontrollable tics. I remember a customer at a job I worked was very nice but then he'd devolve into tics, including flipping the bird repeatedly. And then he'd be kind again. Anyway, if you look up live performances of this song, you'll see Lewis struggle to sing, then the audience sings it for him. It's rather touching, but also sad because the poor man can't even sing his own song.  Sadness should be what you feel when you hear this. That's the odd thing for me. Given my past and inability to find love (even though it was probably right in front of me), I should be overcome with some sort of emotion. I'm not. I am completely unaffected by this song, its sentiment, lyrics, music, etc. It's a well-crafted song, though I feel nothing. Perhaps the fact that it says, "used to being someone you loved" instead of something like "someon...