Astral Weeks
Still mellow, but missing my dog and my family, you and Trader Joe's
Streamin’
Instead of writing tonight, I tried to watch TV. I hate the process of trying to watch TV to the point that I often fail at it. There’s just too much to choose from, and none of it matters. I dislike the choices given to me, and I can never find anything worth my time. This is also true for streaming music. I can't find anything new, and all my old playlists feel tired. I don't want to listen to songs I already know by heart; I want new stuff. I enjoy it when, by some small miracle, I find a podcast, album, or artist that’s worthy of my time. It’s disappointing to find that we’re so overwhelmed with choice that we actually have no choice.
I did find a new podcast called One Song, where two guys talk about a song in depth. This week's episode focused on London Calling by The Clash, with Fred Armisen joining the conversation. Yes, it’s actually interesting to listen to people talk about a single song for an hour. They briefly discussed other Clash albums and joked about never getting through all the tracks on Sandinista! I’ve listened to every one of those songs on that album countless times, and it made me reflect on my old music habits and how much things have changed.
Kids gather round- before the internet, we got our music from albums or tapes, and we had to go out of our way, catch a bus or drive somewhere, to find them. When we got our hands on a precious new record, we spent hours with it. We listened to every track over and over, usually in order, like stories told to us by the musicians who we grew to admire. We knew everything about the music—the lyrics, the recording process, who played what instrument, and the year it was made. Over time, we even became familiar with the scratches and skips we’d accidentally created. I miss that level of dedication, the time and thought we put into all the music we listened to.
After a friend sold my entire album collection—one I had trusted them with—I didn’t want to collect records anymore. I gave what remained of my collection away and started buying CDs. But they also got scratched, and they never felt as precious. After I had kids, I gave up on music collecting and in depth listening altogether for more than a decade. With little downtime and no money, it was impossible to indulge in this pastime. It wasn’t until music became accessible online that I was able to listen again. I remember shocking my kids by singing along loudly to an old Van Morrison song in the kitchen as I was cooking one evening. Maybe I was off key, but I think they hadn't really heard me belt one out like that before.
I've been streaming for a while now, jumping from one service to another, building playlists, stockpiling preferences, only to move on to the next platform. If I ever settle down again, I’ll probably collect albums once more. They just feel better, and an artist will actually make money when I buy them. Until then, like TV, there’s too much choice, and I continue to be defeated by it.
Protest
I’m grateful for all the friends who went out and protested this weekend around the U.S. There was even a protest here in Iceland, one that I set a reminder for in a coded entry. But when the alarm went off I couldn’t remember what it was for and missed it. I have to admit, I feel a bit paranoid about these things being that I need to travel in and out of the U.S. this summer. Maybe it’s excessive, but look at where we are. As grateful as I am for your hard work, I also feel like what we’re doing is just a baby step. Protests like these need to happen on the regular, maybe daily, and on a much larger scale, to really cause the change we need. I fully support everything being done, but it’s going to take a lot more commitment, persistence, and love to turn the tide. I wish us all luck.
Icelandic Chicks
I really like Icelandic women. They get me, they support me, even if they don’t know me. I was talking with my daughter about it, and as she spent the last semester here studying, she agreed that Icelandic women are different-they’re more liberated, more free. She said, “I guess that’s what happens when you grow up in a country that doesn’t hate you.” That comment hit me like a bomb because it’s true.
My entire life as a female in the States I got fucked with on the regular because of my gender, whether it was my non-conformity to my gender, my ambition, or lack there of, my choice to have kids and to not have kids, my desire to walk outside, my desire to not buy things or to buy things. It all felt like fucking battle to explain, rationalize, defend, exist, fight and survive. It’s exhausting. And now to think we fucking dropped the ball and my daughter has less bodily autonomy than I had at her age, she is less safe, less likely now to get ahead. It’s heartbreaking-I could go on.
There is nowhere on earth that has true parity for women, but Iceland comes close. The country is literally run by women. The President, Prime Minister, Bishop, the National Police Commissioner, the Rector of the University, and the State Prosecutor are all women. Let that sink in. What’s funny is that they’re not out trying to strip men of their rights. They’re getting the job done. The new government here is shifting back to the left a bit after a period of right-leaning dominance since the 2008 financial crisis. By right leaning I mean the equivalent to a centrist democratic party in the US. Hopefully, they’ll continue to make life better for all of us.
Most Icelandic women I work with tell me to relax and talk to me like they know I’m smart, and I get a feeling of support rather than suspicion. They often repeat that kids need to figure things out on their own and that all we really need to do is give them a hug every now and then. One woman I really enjoy talking to had cancer a few years back, around the same time I did. She told me, “Moon-tana, don’t get stressed out. You and I can’t get stressed out, or we’ll get cancer again. It’s best to just relax.” I’m doing my best to listen.
Yes, yes, yes. ❤️🫶❤️
Moon-tana is hearts