Overheard
I used to love getting high, grabbing my iPod and launching myself into a New York day with no plan, no destination and just observing all the beauty and the moments and the momentous beauty, all with a soundtrack provided by the forces of "randomness". The way the tempo of "Mother Popcorn" by the recently departed James Brown would perfectly sync up with the rhythm of Manhattan Bridge support beams flowing past my window as I rode a slow-moving D-train into Brooklyn. The way a cloud would break just enough to let a small shaft of sunlight pierce through, hit a couple windows half-way up an old ornate skyscraper further down broadway and bounce right into my face at the exact instant there'd be a climactic cymbal crash in the song on the iPod. Etc. Even without the marijuana, I loved to set my iPod to shuffle, follow the lead of the walk/don't walk signs and marvel at the immense John-Cage-ian masterpiece that the city would create/become, only for me. I loved it perhaps a bit too much, to the increasing exclusion of other valuable experiences... like talking to the cool-looking but obviously crazy man covered head-to-toe in a veritable shag-carpet of tinfoil strips, or the superhot girl who just made eye contact while licking her lips (even unintentionally it's still a good sign), or the guy who might want to hire me for something lucrative and interesting (it could happen). In fact, I actively used the iPod to make it easier to ignore people, not that I don't love people -- I do -- but when I was high, I became irrationally convinced that everybody was talking about me or trying to get my attention wherever I went. I would call it Paranoia except for the fact that it didn't seem hostile or mean-spirited. It actually seemed like everybody was trying to get into my pants. Which would've been very flattering had it not been totally delusional nonsense. I certainly wasn't going to act upon what I thought people were saying to or about me while suspecting that I was delusional, so I had no interest in hearing their voices to begin with. And if I thought someone was trying to get my attention non-verbally, merely having the earphones in gave me an excuse not to interact with them. Very useful. And sick. Eventually, I gave up pot and the delusional perceptions calmed down a little. Not entirely, but somewhat. But by then, the iPod habit had become completely ingrained.

Even though I suspected the habit had become unhealthy, I tried to recreate the city-wide audiovisual synchronicity fun-time activity when I got to Portland. I wasn't very successful. I couldn't find much music that really went with the experience of walking around Portland. I think if I were driving a car or even riding a bike it would've worked better, because the increased speed makes the environment more visually stimulating and rhythmic enough to accomodate a soundtrack. At walking speed, there just wasn't enough stuff happening.

There's a famous quote of Goethe's: "Architecture is frozen music." If that is so, New York is every kind of music there is. Everything goes with it and everything comes out of it. And I'm not just talking about what you can hear of the Juliard student practicing cello in her bedroom or the guy with the ghetto blaster strapped to his handlebars, but also the music that just radiates off the surfaces, the sidewalks, the skyline. While tons of great music comes out of the creative people of Portland, the music that IS the architecture of Portland itself, Portland being predominantly suburbia-shaped, is like... muzak versions of Christmas carols or the theme song to The Price is Right or something. I don't have anything like that on my iPod.

So, believe it or not, I gradually stopped using my iPod. Mostly. Portland broke me of the habit. And even now that I'm back in NYC, I'm still out of the habit of bringing it with me everywhere I go. And this has been really good. It has opened my ears to the true John-Cage-ian masterpiece: the sounds of everything, as they occur. And lots of funny bits of overheard conversations.

So then I got this idea to write a piece consisting of nothing but the snippets I overheard while walking around town, in order. I imagined it would turn out a bit like an exquisite corpse poem, which could be really cool and funny, but then I found this even better thing: http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/

Yet another example of what I'm sure is an obvious cultural staple for many people out there, but I just stumbled on it today and already I'm hooked. It gave me my first big out-loud laugh of the new year.

And right-- happy New Year everybody. Good things in 2007!