Tuesday, November 24, 2015

No Waiting On Romeo

Even if you are someone whose relationship with me is limited to this daily exercise in exorcism, it is reasonable to presume that by this point in said relationship (unless today is the day you have broken your maiden in this space) you have figured out how measured my interactions with the rest of the world are on a day-to-day basis.  

I love the people I love, who are - coincidentally - those for whom I would die or kill to protect.  I have zero tolerance for a bully or a coward, which are after all merely flip sides of the same coin. But for those for whom I feel neither a sense of devotion nor a sense of enmity, my default emotion is apathy.  When I read and hear, for instance, about those who loathe, despise, or hate a group as utterly vapid as the Kardashians, I wonder "Why Bother"?  They are not ubiquitous.  They are creations of television by television and for television.  Simply change the channel.  I assure you  that enough grown-up shit goes on in the world every day for you to become legitimately pissed off about without wasting a moment of actual outrage on them.   

The things I enjoy, in terms of the books I am reading or have read, the music to which I listen, which things I discuss every now and again here, I discuss without any commitment from anyone else to sharing my enthusiasm or any commitment from me regarding whether my enthusiasm is indeed shared.  Case in point,  on Saturday morning I finished reading Nathaniel Philbrick's In the Heart of the Sea - The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex.  My motivation in reading it - in significant part - is the pending release of the film adaptation of the book, which shall be in theaters next month.  I am interested in seeing the film but wanted to read the book first so that I could enjoy the story the way Philbrick intended to tell it - just in case the film version proves to be a disappointment.  

I found Philbrick's book to be extraordinary and recommend it to one and all to read.  It is both educational and fascinating.  Whether you opt to read it - now or ever - I shall of course never know.  And truth be told, it matters not at all to me whether you do.  My experience with the book and the enjoyment I derived from having read it is not dependent upon you at all.  

Similarly, I am very much looking forward to receiving next month my copy of Springsteen's The Ties That Bind:  The River Collection.  Unlike his most recent CD, High Hopes, which I found utterly dreadful - and suffering from a case of "TMM" ("Too Much Morello"), I am genuinely excited to hear this music and to listen to these stories.  Predictably, whether you share my enthusiasm for this offering or whether you ever listen to a single note of Springsteen's music is of no consequence to me.  My experience with this material exists wholly independent of yours, whatever that experience might be.  


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