February 11, 2002

soul food and mason jars

Lately I feel my creativity has not been nurtured properly. School makes me want to cry in boredom as my soul is sucked out of my ears and fed into stacked mason jars in a cold, damp basement.

But I think things are changing and oh, they’re changin’ for the nice. Philosophy class is starting to touch on some issues that really fascinate me; how the perceiving self functions to actually create the world. A number of great recreational books have been trickling in with my online-ordered textbooks (Nordic Runes, the Collected Sam and Max, Shackleton’s Voyage) and some significant music purchases should start drifting in from BMG before too long.

Not to mention Twin Peaks, which is still feeding my soul so kindly.

Ahh, but something great and important is still missing from this intellectual diet. Where is the live music? Still yourself, sweet child, as that issue has been resolved as well. Robert Randolph, an amazing pedal guitar player, will be at the Cedar Cultural Center next week, and Sound Tribe Sector 9 will be at the Cabooze in March. Both shows fall on school nights but I plan on going anyway.

An ear is a terrible thing to waste.