Joshua Topolsky

You know, I don’t update this blog as often as I should. It’s just, after a day of blogging, one doesn’t immediately reach for the blog control and blog writing instrument and blog fellows and blog dictionary and begin typing a secret message into one’s blog — does one?

But more to the point, is people reading this thing anyway? I suppose I’ll know when my poor grammar is corrected by a load of dedicated joshuatopolsky.com readers. Like my wife.

I had a thought recently, concerning music. My thought is thus: an almost-instant response in my mind when I hear a new song I like is: “I’m going to be bored of this song after 10 listens.” I know it sounds doom and gloom, but I have to admit it, my brain doesn’t want to like anything it doesn’t already like! This is a sign of old age, I know, which is how my parents, who grew up during the birth of rock n’ roll, the peace movement, the American civil rights jig, and a slew of other beautiful, meaningful, music-creating incidents only want to listen to Frank Sinatra. To be fair, I think my mother owns a few Taylor Dayne albums. So I guess it is possible to learn to like new music, it will just be festering garbage.

The long and short of it is that I’m slowing down, getting gray, and thinking about a place in the country where my babies can run, screaming through the fields, the blur of our red farmhouse beside them, and a dangerous highway nearby. I may have just experienced a sense-memory of the film Pet Sematary, but we can never know for sure.

Watch your Achille’s heel, friends.