Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Music Schizophrenia

Taste in music is high up on my list of criteria for compatiblity. If you listen to Britney Spears or Fall Out Boy, I probably can't stand you. Sometimes this doesn't work however, and someone with awesome musical taste is utterly pretentious and annoying, such as this girl who went to high school with me for a year. She had awesome taste in music, and I managed to snag some Tom Waits off of her, but that was basically her only decent quality. She scorned me because I wasn't into The Doors and because I would relinquish my Nietzche to her. She later disclosed that she wanted to destroy "The Doors of Perception" for an art project. I have problems lending out my babies to those who'll take care of them, much less a pretentious bitch who wanted to destroy philosophy. She clung to me however, and she quickly drove me crazy. I would skip classes just to avoid her, as did everyone else. But this is not what this post is about.
This is about my own musical taste.

I have Musical Schizophrenia. I realized this after listening to Jack Johnson and Marilyn Manson in the same sitting. I consider them to both be very good, but the genre-hopping's getting a little out there: Fiona Apple and MSI, Beck and Chopin, No Doubt and Rammstien, Bob Marley and Regina Spektor. I now wonder if this reflects an incongruity with in myself, a chasm that runs between the peaceful me and the selfdestructive me. Liz'z own great schizm.


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