Listening to these songs this morning took me back to the red couch. Back to a time when I was optimistic — not only for Geri but for the machine that produces and distributes the music we love.
My friends made a valiant effort at this game. I wrote the following stories once a day as they repeatedly guessed incorrectly. The lie is last.
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“I can’t help but think about the world MLK described as a kind of Disney Land — a retreat from reality, a sprawling and idyllic state of mind, nestled in the swampland of the southern American consciousness.”
A&R guys from major record labels had already described the band as “positive rock,” and “perfect for a post-9/11 world.” The planets had finally gotten in line.
“It seemed to be alive. And it seemed to know I was afraid. … It was as if it had opened a door into the Cosmos and stood blocking the doorway.”
At a time in my adolescence when religion was unspoken in the small, rural towns of Wisconsin and “monks” were something that existed in another (very ancient) time, the monastery stood as a monolithic symbol of everything I feared about religion. But years later, my mind would change.
Being caught doodling was a horrible feeling. It was like being caught in the act of … something inappropriate.