Black Circles.

Black Circles.

The music used to be your own. Some songs you listened to on your record player. And you noticed the unique speed of your turntable when hearing it for the first time on another’s. Mine was just slightly faster. And the vinyl’s unique scuffs made it even more yours. You knew where they were and they became part of the song. You eventually learned how to move about, to stabilize–learning the unique mood of your machine. You timed tasks (or built a slow motivation to get up) based on the elapsed time of side A. You admired the album art, a temporary exhibit that existed briefly–the visual representation of where you were and what you were feeling. Till you tucked it away, the slim binding disappearing until you needed it again.

Today, you can click buttons. And click buttons to click more buttons. And there’s a song. And on your device, you can pass by it inattentively like so many do with life… while “multi-tasking.” But multi-tasking equates to half-assed, even third-assed or fourth-assed action. Action without heart or thought. Wasted. Superficial experiences that barely penetrate–like current music, current movies, current people. Cliff Notes. Why would anyone want to shortcut their experiences in the name of speed and convenience? Why would anyone want to settle for speed and quantity over depth and quality? I’ll take slow, laborious, complicated. Like old Mötley Crüe.