"to refresh the mind of man"

Anyone who knows me also knows that I love music. And if you don't know me, let me begin by telling you a little something about myself. I love music.

There is something very curious, however, that I have noted among my friends and, to a point, about myself as well. This is that music tastes change. They especially alter in the short span of, perhaps, about 17 to about 22, give or take a couple years. And I am always wondering why this is. Of course, a lot of things change in a person between those years--their entire lifestyle changes from a teenager with generally no responsibility to a university student or full-time worker, out on their own. Convictions grow or, unfortunately, convictions wither. But I wonder what a changing lifestyle has to do with a changing taste in music.

I write this in the wake of a series of concerts I have attended in the last few weeks. Seeing Shai Hulud play in the same venue I would later see Rocky Votolato play in is what inspired me to sound out this thought. And the atmosphere the two shows had, though they were in the same place, were entirely different. Obviously because of genre differences and obviously because of crowd make-up and atmosphere. The crowd at the hardcore show was primarily eighteen years old. The crowd at the country/folk show was primarily in their mid-twenties.

I have friends who used to listen to bands like Thursday or Poison The Well when they were teenagers and now sneer at them. The music has not changed though, of course. They have. Now they prefer Chet Baker or The Microphones. The teenage years are a nebulous craze. Definition is often found in an album that a teenage era centres around. I listen to old Stretch Arm Strong and Smashing Pumpkins, or Mineral and At The Drive-In, and still love them because nostalgia is timeless and their music stays in me. So I find it hard to calculate what makes others turn themselves around from the music their younger self was so attached to, simply because they are no longer as young.

A good read

I recently finished reading The Educated Imagination, a series of lectures by Northrop Frye in which he asks what literature really is and answers what we ought to use it for--questions that tend to be taken for granted.

Frye is, in most circles, considered to be the most renowned literary critic of the 20th Century. He was a primary aid in shaping literary criticism as a discipline several decades ago, claiming that many literary critics perform while maintaining a use of ideology. The critical study of English literature is still a baby. Not like philosophy, which is another of my loves.

The reason I wanted to make mention of this book is because of its presentation. If its reader has the beginnings of an interest in studying literature, this book intuitively presents a method of criticism much more readable to most than some of the other pillar critics such as Jacques Derrida or Roland Barthes. So if you wish to learn about a view of the study of literature, you might want to look it up.

That being said, I have in my mind the idea that perhaps the discussion of literature is a dry topic to some readers. I'm studying English and Philosophy in school, however, so such topics are usually at the front of my mind, or near to it. But if you are yawning, I do apologize. You could always read Harry Potter.

Or, if you need a quick jump. Watch this amazingness:



Listening to:
Matthew Good - Hospital Music
Rebekah Higgs - Rebekah Higgs

A greeting.

Some of you reading this new journal may also have been reading one or a couple of the other online journals that I've kept over the years, so my thoughts on a screen might not be such a fresh experience as it could be for the newbs. And if you are indeed someone who's been reading along with my life, you might notice a slight switch in style. I already keep a handful of handwritten journals chronicling a variety of categories in thought and events, but I would like to save this one for others. And I insist against calling it a 'blog', because I sincerely dislike that word. So please disregard the name of this journal's domain, as I do also.

The reason I went with this new idea is a result of reading Don To Earth, a man who ought to be respected not only because he is beyond 90 years old, but because of the accomplishments he has made throughout his life. Before The Nature of Things became what we know it as, Mr. Crowdis originally hosted the show on CBC. I recommend visiting his page.

I should also admit that I did not write the story in that first entry, and I also do not know the origin. I simply found it to be quite thought provoking, and worth sharing.

So welcome to my new journal. It's a beautiful afternoon. I hope you have been enjoying it.

Listening to:

Palmsout Sunday Remix 79

A story.

There once was a man, and he lived quite well. He had a nice fortune, a big house, and a good wife. But he wished to quest for truth.

One day, he told this to his wife. "I want to set out to search for truth."

She said to go, then, and find truth. But to leave her their house and his fortune in case he should never return.

The man did so, and set out to find truth. He travelled far--up mountains, through valleys; across seas; through cities and towns. He was climbing a hill and came upon a cave. He entered, and within he found an old woman with scraggly, oily, grey hair, one yellowed tooth, and broken dry skin like weathered parchment. But she spoke to him, and her voice was deep and pure. "I am truth."

He stayed there for some time with her, learning about truth. And when he felt he had learned all he could, he stood up to go. But before leaving he said to her, "You have taught me so much, what can I do to repay you?"

"When you return and tell people about me," she said, "tell them that I am young and beautiful."