Sunday, March 22, 2015

There's a feelin' that I get from nothin' else

Exactly how much snot is too much snot to swallow? Is there such a thing? I am sure there must be. Whatever that threshold is, I have surpassed it by gallons.

TGB gave me an old iPod/phone of hers to load music on for when I am doing manly things in the garage (read: when she banishes me to the basement). We already share our iTunes libraries so we can blast music on the sound system (that sounds way more impressive than it is). When I wiped out her iPhone it put all her music into my iTunes so now her music is co-mingled with mine. It feels strange.

There's a scene in St. Elmo's Fire (if you haven't watched it, stop what you are doing and go watch it now) where Ally Sheedy and Judd Nelson are fighting over who gets what albums post break-up. It used to take active participation to both share and, potentially, divide music in the past. Now it's just a fucking click.

Are you sure you want to import your wife's shit? 

Yep.  Click.

Are you sure you want to end... er, disassociate your life... er, music from his computer? 

Yep. Click.

It seems technology has trivialized once grand gestures while simultaneously makig it easier for us to treat each other as disposable.

I'm sick and feel miserable. I just wanted to pass the sensation along. You're welcome.


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