“boy’s undying affection”

that’s the name of my darling little shuffle. it loves me.


well, i suppose that would be my husband who loves me and gave me such a nice present. but the shuffle also loves me, i am sure. lately i’ve been filling it with mark driscoll sermons. i can listen to them and sew, clean my kitchen, i can even take it to story time (and am no longer bored witless). every housewife should have one.


my husband thinks it a strange sacrilege, but i have never listened to music on my ipod. my father insisted while i was growing up, that you can’t listen to music unless you also want to learn how to play music and really appreciate it. so i tried to learn to play the guitar and only learned that i hate music. it is hard work, it takes discipline, nothing that most of the people who incessantly listen to music seem to have. (referring mostly to that strange race of adolescents who puddle themselves in the stuff). when i was a similarly hormonal infested creature, i had the nagging suspicion that i only listened to music so as to not hear myself. you get to become someone else, bottom feed off second hand emotions and neglect you own unimpressive reality. reality is when you turn the sound track off and nothing is so rosy anymore. this is your life. if it’s not full and good, don’t ice over it with someone else’s.

so i decided to just stop listening to music, which was strangely hard at the time, almost like quiting smoking. consequently, it came as a very weird surprise when i realized that i didn’t even like the stuff anymore. that i could drive from moscow to boise and not even think of putting anything in the cd player. and i like it this way. i like my life and my thoughts. “it’s a blazing 95 degrees in mavisland, come visit.” and by the way, i have an inside source on the albino worms, if anyone wants one. they’re a strange breed.


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vicar: "oh no, it's the bucket woman. drive, drive!!"

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