I used to have a great many songs on my computer (over five thousand last time I checked, in 2005), and then, the day after I returned from ten days of meditative reflection at an ashram this spring, my laptop bit the dust. When I bought a new one, I didn't have my digital collection transferred because I was so headed for the hermitage in terms of deep positive thinking that I was like, why would I want to listen to music when every pop song is a diary of longing for someone who's left you? The only song that I truly miss is one that someone recorded for me. Le sigh... that's this life, though; fleeting. These days, I still listen to music, online, mostly on artists' sites or at Hype Machine (especially after I read one of Ben Greenman's essays like this one at Moistworks), or the odd CD, but rarely do I add anything to my iTunes, which currently has exactly 67 songs on it. Lately, though, I've been returning to the idea of a soundtrack, especially when I travel, and gravitating towards tunes with a little wear on them (like "St. James Infirmary" or the blues, like Muddy Waters, or Lightnin' Hopkins' "Baby Child," which captivates me into silent reverie from the first note). I have a cherished gold iPod Mini, but it's a little heavy to tote around since I've mostly quit carrying a purse (I feel like I've said this before -- ha, I did, exactly that -- but girls, there is a reason that boys are running the world and it is: pockets). I am désolé that the iPod Shuffle doesn't come in violet or high-gloss black or a Paul Smith stripe edition, but one must suffer, I guess. We can't be so pretty all the time.
[iPod shuffle, $49 at Apple.com]
Windowlicker - from the French for window shopping: faire du lèche-vitrine - appears on Tuesday and Thursdays at 10am EST-ish.
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