It's a measure of the irrelevance of the Democratic Party that a man who played such a significant role in the policies that led to the still-unfolding prisoner abuse and torture scandals is expected to win easy Senate confirmation and become attorney general. The Democrats have become the 98-pound weaklings of the 21st century.We thought we couldn't get a worse Attorney General than John Ashcroft, but Alberto Gonzales may soon prove us wrong.
1.07.2005
two reasons to read the new york times
Paul Krugman and Bob Herbert. From Herbert's column today:
save it
Things you do not need to tell me:
1. It is cold in Canada.
2. Canada is not perfect.
3. National health care is not perfect.
4. Toronto sucks. (Applies only to Canadians.)
5. It is cold in Canada.
I am aware of all these things. Thank you.
1. It is cold in Canada.
2. Canada is not perfect.
3. National health care is not perfect.
4. Toronto sucks. (Applies only to Canadians.)
5. It is cold in Canada.
I am aware of all these things. Thank you.
thank you, jon stewart
My man Howard Zinn was on "The Daily Show" last night! If you missed it, try to catch the re-run today. Zinn seemed a little hesitant at first, but once he got going he was awesome.
In comparing George W Bush to Christopher Columbus, Zinn noted that at least while Columbus was pillaging and annihilating, he was right there beside his men. We seldom hear such truth-telling on television, and I thank Jon Stewart from the bottom of my heart.
In comparing George W Bush to Christopher Columbus, Zinn noted that at least while Columbus was pillaging and annihilating, he was right there beside his men. We seldom hear such truth-telling on television, and I thank Jon Stewart from the bottom of my heart.
the limits of empathy, part 2
When I was a kid, I used to fantasize about a magic potion that would change me into a different person. Not because I was trying to escape my own life, but so I could truly know what it was like to be someone else, from inside their skin. The potion would turn me into that other person for a set amount of time, then wear off and I'd be me again, but I'd remember everything I experienced and felt.
I didn't dream of being specific people, just people essentially different from me, or with extremely different lives. A man. A black person. A coal miner. A rock star. Often these mental exercises revolved around someone who had suffered great hardship. A slave. An abducted child.
I still do this to some extent - and you probably do, too - just without the hocus pocus. We imagine what it's like to be an Iraqi. Or a stranded tsunami survivor.
While walking my dogs this morning, watching them sniff a bit of brick wall as if it contained the Secret Of Life, I remembered this childhood fantasy. I'd love to be a dog for a day. Experience the world through canine eyes, ears and nose. Feel the world with a canine heart. What does it feel like to be Buster? What trauma is imprinted in his memory that makes him so anxious and fearful of the world? What does it feel like to love someone the way Buster loves me? (My standard joke is that if any man loved me the way Buster does, I'd have to get a restraining order.)
Trying to empathize with animals can be a heartbreaking exercise, as so many of them are caged, hunted, experimented on or otherwise abused.
Empathy is painful, but human society can't exist without it. In some sense, people like me want empathy to be a more powerful force than nationalism or other archaic forms of tribalism. Recognizing our common humanity has become a cliche, but it's really all we have.
I didn't dream of being specific people, just people essentially different from me, or with extremely different lives. A man. A black person. A coal miner. A rock star. Often these mental exercises revolved around someone who had suffered great hardship. A slave. An abducted child.
I still do this to some extent - and you probably do, too - just without the hocus pocus. We imagine what it's like to be an Iraqi. Or a stranded tsunami survivor.
While walking my dogs this morning, watching them sniff a bit of brick wall as if it contained the Secret Of Life, I remembered this childhood fantasy. I'd love to be a dog for a day. Experience the world through canine eyes, ears and nose. Feel the world with a canine heart. What does it feel like to be Buster? What trauma is imprinted in his memory that makes him so anxious and fearful of the world? What does it feel like to love someone the way Buster loves me? (My standard joke is that if any man loved me the way Buster does, I'd have to get a restraining order.)
Trying to empathize with animals can be a heartbreaking exercise, as so many of them are caged, hunted, experimented on or otherwise abused.
Empathy is painful, but human society can't exist without it. In some sense, people like me want empathy to be a more powerful force than nationalism or other archaic forms of tribalism. Recognizing our common humanity has become a cliche, but it's really all we have.
1.06.2005
not subject to debate
If you read the comments here, you'll know this isn't the first exchange where people with political philosophies radically different than mine want to discuss and debate here.
These folks were pretty polite - Eraserhead is downright sweet - and didn't say anything offensive. Nevertheless, I ask them to not discuss their views here. This surprises some people, and I am invariably accused of being close-minded or engaging in censorship.
I will attempt to explain - though I caution that it may not make sense, as it springs from a personal and emotional place.
This blog is my private space, my little oasis. That would seem contradictory, since it exists on the internet and anyone can read it. But it's a private space that I choose to share. I don't blog about my most personal feelings; you'll never read about my relationships, or family issues, or details about close friends. Those exist in an even more personal realm. But this blog is my soapbox: a place to tell my story, a place for my voice.
I find reading certain political views very unpleasant. For me, political ideas aren't just concepts on paper, they aren't theoretical. They are the underpinnings of policies that shape and change people's lives. Muslim Americans rounded up after 9/11. Teenagers unable to obtain confidential, accurate medical information and care. The quality of the air we breathe. Unnecessary war. Government-subsidized corporations. Millions of people without health care. I feel so passionately about these things. And they all spring from political theory.
There are a multitude of places I can read opposing viewpoints. I don't live with my head in the sand. I know what's out there. But if I were to allow this blog to be a forum for debate, I would spoil my little oasis. Blogging would become combative, stressful, annoying - hardly the point of something I do for enjoyment.
Everyone has a right to his or her opinion. Everyone has a right to make that opinion known. But I'm under no obligation to rent them a billboard in my own backyard.
Ask me a question, I'll try to answer. Post your opinion, if it's not morally offensive to me, I won't delete it. But try to engage me in debate on this blog, and you'll end up frustrated.
One further note. Since starting this blog, I've enjoyed writing it far more than I thought I would. If you've read from the beginning, you know my topics have expanded. I'm much more likely to see things around me as "blogworthy" than I once did. I remain utterly amazed that anyone wants to read this, but I'm really glad you do. I feel connected to you all, this mostly silent community that occasionally makes itself known to me.
These folks were pretty polite - Eraserhead is downright sweet - and didn't say anything offensive. Nevertheless, I ask them to not discuss their views here. This surprises some people, and I am invariably accused of being close-minded or engaging in censorship.
I will attempt to explain - though I caution that it may not make sense, as it springs from a personal and emotional place.
This blog is my private space, my little oasis. That would seem contradictory, since it exists on the internet and anyone can read it. But it's a private space that I choose to share. I don't blog about my most personal feelings; you'll never read about my relationships, or family issues, or details about close friends. Those exist in an even more personal realm. But this blog is my soapbox: a place to tell my story, a place for my voice.
I find reading certain political views very unpleasant. For me, political ideas aren't just concepts on paper, they aren't theoretical. They are the underpinnings of policies that shape and change people's lives. Muslim Americans rounded up after 9/11. Teenagers unable to obtain confidential, accurate medical information and care. The quality of the air we breathe. Unnecessary war. Government-subsidized corporations. Millions of people without health care. I feel so passionately about these things. And they all spring from political theory.
There are a multitude of places I can read opposing viewpoints. I don't live with my head in the sand. I know what's out there. But if I were to allow this blog to be a forum for debate, I would spoil my little oasis. Blogging would become combative, stressful, annoying - hardly the point of something I do for enjoyment.
Everyone has a right to his or her opinion. Everyone has a right to make that opinion known. But I'm under no obligation to rent them a billboard in my own backyard.
Ask me a question, I'll try to answer. Post your opinion, if it's not morally offensive to me, I won't delete it. But try to engage me in debate on this blog, and you'll end up frustrated.
One further note. Since starting this blog, I've enjoyed writing it far more than I thought I would. If you've read from the beginning, you know my topics have expanded. I'm much more likely to see things around me as "blogworthy" than I once did. I remain utterly amazed that anyone wants to read this, but I'm really glad you do. I feel connected to you all, this mostly silent community that occasionally makes itself known to me.
what i'm reading
I'm still slogging my way through Reading Lolita In Tehran. I'm not crazy about Nafisi's writing, but it's an excellent view into another world. What does it look like when a reasonably democratic state turns totalitarian, in this case via theocracy? What is it like, especially for women, to live under fundamentalist Islamic rule? Nafisi gives you some answers to these questions, and they are deeply frightening.
This book reminds me (not that I need reminding, I think of it constantly) how much personal freedom I have, as a woman, as a Jew, as a thinker. But it also shows me how our great personal freedom works against us in a superficial consumerist society. We are free to shop, free to fill our lives with junk. We are less alert. More docile, more controllable.
I'm also about to start Chain Of Command, by Seymour Hersh. For those unfamiliar with the book, the subtitle is The Road From 9/11 To Abu Ghraib.
This book reminds me (not that I need reminding, I think of it constantly) how much personal freedom I have, as a woman, as a Jew, as a thinker. But it also shows me how our great personal freedom works against us in a superficial consumerist society. We are free to shop, free to fill our lives with junk. We are less alert. More docile, more controllable.
I'm also about to start Chain Of Command, by Seymour Hersh. For those unfamiliar with the book, the subtitle is The Road From 9/11 To Abu Ghraib.
what i'm watching: c-span, barbarian invasions, tsunami
Big C-Span Day. We can watch John Conyers stand up for democracy today. Barbara Boxer might stand up with him. John Kerry, however, won't be joining them. Don't want to look like a sore loser, eh Mr Kerry? Got to keep that political skin intact.
Life, Death and the Movies. We saw an excellent Canadian film last night called "The Barbarian Invasions" (French with English subtitles). It's about a man facing death, a celebration of his life, and one person who loves him enough to give him the best death possible - about people connecting with one another in surprising ways that make up life's little miracles. It's funny and sad without ever being sentimental or manipulative. Highly recommended.
Death on our TV Screens. Let's not let the tsunami victims fall out of our thoughts. The survivors must be suffering in unimaginable ways.
Life, Death and the Movies. We saw an excellent Canadian film last night called "The Barbarian Invasions" (French with English subtitles). It's about a man facing death, a celebration of his life, and one person who loves him enough to give him the best death possible - about people connecting with one another in surprising ways that make up life's little miracles. It's funny and sad without ever being sentimental or manipulative. Highly recommended.
Death on our TV Screens. Let's not let the tsunami victims fall out of our thoughts. The survivors must be suffering in unimaginable ways.
1.05.2005
coffee with frank gehry
New York City may not have a single building designed by America's preeminent living architect, but we have a cafeteria!
I've been determined to find someone who works at Conde Nast to walk me into this private space sometime before I leave. What amazing luck: someone I had to meet on Haven-related business is on a freelance assignment there. And at just the right time!
This afternoon we're having coffee there. Check out photos of the eye-popping room here.
I've been determined to find someone who works at Conde Nast to walk me into this private space sometime before I leave. What amazing luck: someone I had to meet on Haven-related business is on a freelance assignment there. And at just the right time!
This afternoon we're having coffee there. Check out photos of the eye-popping room here.
recipe for democracy
Basic ingredients: universal suffrage and fair elections.
What makes this a democracy? At this point, to think the 2004 elections were fair and correct, can only be ignorance, whether willful or otherwise. Here's a good wrap-up of the situation in Ohio.
If you saw the movie Unprecedented - and if you didn't, rent it now! - you'll vividly recall the heartbreaking scene where Congressperson after Congressperson - all African Americans, by the way - were not allowed to object to the Florida vote count.
Who will object to the Ohio count?
Tomorrow, January 6, Representative John Conyers of Detroit will rise and object to the vote count in Ohio. He will not be allowed to speak unless at least one member of the Senate agrees to let him have the floor.
Who will let him speak?
It takes only one member of the House and one member of the Senate to stop the acceptance of the Electoral College vote and force a legitimate debate and investigation. Just two officials out of 535 can halt the final acceptance of the election. The law was written that way because nothing is more important than the integrity of the vote.
Will anyone rise from the Senate floor to second Congressman Conyers?
I ask again: If we don't have fair elections, what makes this a democracy?
What makes this a democracy? At this point, to think the 2004 elections were fair and correct, can only be ignorance, whether willful or otherwise. Here's a good wrap-up of the situation in Ohio.
If you saw the movie Unprecedented - and if you didn't, rent it now! - you'll vividly recall the heartbreaking scene where Congressperson after Congressperson - all African Americans, by the way - were not allowed to object to the Florida vote count.
Who will object to the Ohio count?
Tomorrow, January 6, Representative John Conyers of Detroit will rise and object to the vote count in Ohio. He will not be allowed to speak unless at least one member of the Senate agrees to let him have the floor.
Who will let him speak?
It takes only one member of the House and one member of the Senate to stop the acceptance of the Electoral College vote and force a legitimate debate and investigation. Just two officials out of 535 can halt the final acceptance of the election. The law was written that way because nothing is more important than the integrity of the vote.
Will anyone rise from the Senate floor to second Congressman Conyers?
I ask again: If we don't have fair elections, what makes this a democracy?
1.04.2005
questions of scale
New York large and small. Christo's Gates are coming! Christo and Jeanne Claude tried for years to gain clearance for a project in New York's Central Park. I was so happy when I learned they finally obtained it - and now I'm thrilled that The Gates will happen while I'm still here to experience them. I'll try to check it out several times during the construction, then see the installation itself a few times. These frequent errors from Christo and Jeanne Claude's website are amusing.
Board's Head Ham. Washington Hights Convinence. Frist Wok. Allan and I love the funny typos, misspellings and misapplied idioms that grace the signs of our polyglot city. We used to talk about walking around the city photographing crazy signs and doing a story on it, but lacked sufficient motivation in those pre-digital camera days. The Times has a piece on it today.
Lies large and small. Paul Krugman explains the Social Security privatization scam. This is the first piece in a series, one worth following.
And Gina Kolata explains the diet industry scam. Short answer: they don't work. They just make other people rich.
Board's Head Ham. Washington Hights Convinence. Frist Wok. Allan and I love the funny typos, misspellings and misapplied idioms that grace the signs of our polyglot city. We used to talk about walking around the city photographing crazy signs and doing a story on it, but lacked sufficient motivation in those pre-digital camera days. The Times has a piece on it today.
Lies large and small. Paul Krugman explains the Social Security privatization scam. This is the first piece in a series, one worth following.
And Gina Kolata explains the diet industry scam. Short answer: they don't work. They just make other people rich.
1.03.2005
links
I've created a new menu linking to people who are regular visitors to WMTC. If you read my blather and you have a blog or website, send me the link and I'll include you.
another obituary
Shirley Chisholm, the first African-American woman to serve in the United States Congress, died this weekend at the age of 80. She was also the first woman to seek the nomination for President.
Chisholm was a smart, tough, liberal maverick, and a feminist from head to toe. She said, "When I ran for the Congress, when I ran for president, I met more discrimination as a woman than for being black. Men are men."
Many people I like or admire have died recently. I am not at all superstitious, but it's creeping me out.
Chisholm was a smart, tough, liberal maverick, and a feminist from head to toe. She said, "When I ran for the Congress, when I ran for president, I met more discrimination as a woman than for being black. Men are men."
Many people I like or admire have died recently. I am not at all superstitious, but it's creeping me out.
happy anniversary to us
January 3, 1987. The previous day, a blizzard dumps a couple feet of snow on northern Vermont. My flight from Newark is the last one to land before the Burlington Airport is closed down. We spend one last night in the house on George Street, then hours the next morning digging out the U-Haul.
Eighteen years ago today, Allan and I drove that U-Haul, packed with everything he owned in the world, from Burlington, Vermont to Brooklyn, New York. The adventure continues.
Eighteen years ago today, Allan and I drove that U-Haul, packed with everything he owned in the world, from Burlington, Vermont to Brooklyn, New York. The adventure continues.
1.02.2005
take the test
I just took it. I'm proud to say there are only a handful I haven't done, mostly because I don't own a bicycle, and they're not serious about the apartment-raised tiger.
closet canadians?
Interesting comment here, though I'm not entirely sure I understand it.
More than closet Canadians, we are alienated Americans. I'm familiar with the anti-Toronto bias; all non-Torontonian Canadians seem to need to tell me how bad Toronto is. But that's one of the reasons I feel I'll be happy there: New York is hated by the rest of the US, and all the New Yorkers I know who have spent time in Toronto like it a lot. The main reason for choosing Toronto, though, is jobs.
To Beausejour: you lived in Washington Heights? Wherebouts? That's where we live. Why was your cross-country drive awful?
More than closet Canadians, we are alienated Americans. I'm familiar with the anti-Toronto bias; all non-Torontonian Canadians seem to need to tell me how bad Toronto is. But that's one of the reasons I feel I'll be happy there: New York is hated by the rest of the US, and all the New Yorkers I know who have spent time in Toronto like it a lot. The main reason for choosing Toronto, though, is jobs.
To Beausejour: you lived in Washington Heights? Wherebouts? That's where we live. Why was your cross-country drive awful?
you know you're really a new yorker when...
Looking for fun stuff to do tomorrow, I found this Time Out New York piece from November, 2003. It's long, but it's wonderful. The last one - feel a great sense of relief when your plane flies into JFK or LaGuardia - got to me. I think I'll feel that for the rest of my life, no matter where I live.
barry corbet, 1936-2004
More death. Barry Corbet, a talented writer and filmmaker, former pioneering mountain climber and skier, my former editor, and an altogether terrific person, died on December 18.
Barry ran my work in New Mobility when all I had to my name was a big pile of research and an unpublished novel. I learned a lot from him - about crafting a magazine article, and about how a real professional works.
He was a model editor: sensitive, encouraging, with just the right balance of freedom and direction. In a messy incident involving Chuck Close, Chris Reeve, and my own slip-up, Barry backed me up, let the magazine apologize, and continued to trust me.
The entire disability community will miss him. A tribute site has been set up for anyone wishing to know him better.
Barry ran my work in New Mobility when all I had to my name was a big pile of research and an unpublished novel. I learned a lot from him - about crafting a magazine article, and about how a real professional works.
He was a model editor: sensitive, encouraging, with just the right balance of freedom and direction. In a messy incident involving Chuck Close, Chris Reeve, and my own slip-up, Barry backed me up, let the magazine apologize, and continued to trust me.
The entire disability community will miss him. A tribute site has been set up for anyone wishing to know him better.
a big question answered
Mollie of Greener Pastures wins the prize! The first person to answer our last unanswered question about the immigration process.
Once we're approved by Canadian Immigration, we'll be issued a visa, which has an expiration date, by which time we must take residence in Canada in order to get our Permanent Residence status. We know the visa has a time limit - but up to now we've had no way of knowing what that time limit is. The information is not on any official CIC information, presumably because it varies by country and under different circumstances.
Americans who have been living in Canada for many years don't know, because the process has changed a good deal since they left. But the Greener Pastures family moved in early 2004, and became Permanent Residents very recently.
The envelope please? Six months.
In other words, once we're completely cleared for take off, we'll have six months to get the hell out. That should be more than adequate. I'm thinking we can do it in three.
***
Also it took Mollie's family 14 months from application acceptance to visa issuance, not 18 as I previously reported. Four months better.
Once we're approved by Canadian Immigration, we'll be issued a visa, which has an expiration date, by which time we must take residence in Canada in order to get our Permanent Residence status. We know the visa has a time limit - but up to now we've had no way of knowing what that time limit is. The information is not on any official CIC information, presumably because it varies by country and under different circumstances.
Americans who have been living in Canada for many years don't know, because the process has changed a good deal since they left. But the Greener Pastures family moved in early 2004, and became Permanent Residents very recently.
The envelope please? Six months.
In other words, once we're completely cleared for take off, we'll have six months to get the hell out. That should be more than adequate. I'm thinking we can do it in three.
***
Also it took Mollie's family 14 months from application acceptance to visa issuance, not 18 as I previously reported. Four months better.
1.01.2005
what i'm listening to
It occurred to me that I blog about what I'm reading, but never about what music I'm listening to - a testament to the tiny and inadequate claim music now makes on my life. As someone who once lived as much for music as for books, I feel this as a loss. Music doesn't fit naturally into my life as it used to. I have to make a special effort to listen, and too often, I don't.
Ever since Allan discovered the joys of file sharing, he's been announcing finds that might appeal to me and asking if he can download them for me. (Nothing right now on the mixed ethics of free downloads. I am a writer very concerned with copyright issues; suffice to say I have seriously mixed feelings.) In all the many reports of what was available, the first that really made my eyes light up was a 1978 Springsteen show: all 3.5 hours of it on DVD.
I'm coming to liberate you, confiscate you...
I was among the legions of high-school fans who impatiently awaited the resolution of The Boss's legal troubles, which would bring our first opportunity to see him. Sure, the critics and older folks had seen him in now-legendary club dates, but the kids were still waiting. I saw everyone in those days, concerts were a regular part of my life, but a Springsteen show existed on another plane entirely.
Watching the DVDs the other night, I was transported back to those breathless days... barefoot girls sitting on the hood of a Dodge drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain... and reminded how music can never again speak to us the way it does at that age. I don't ask - or expect - music to give me solace or guide me through or fill a void or offer escape the way I knew it could then.
Bruce's wild exuberance onstage was transporting. But of course I was never just a party girl, and his songs of loneliness and alienation and searching reached deep down. I was known to be a Stones fanatic, and Joni Mitchell will always be my idol, but only Springsteen brought those feelings together - the excitement and release of rock and the poetry that seems to spring from our own souls. How many 40-somethings do you know who carry the lyrics to Thunder Road in their wallet?
It's a town for losers, I'm pulling out of here to win...
When Allan and I met in 1985, I had no one in my life with whom to share my intense love of music. (No one to go to baseball games with, either.) Allan was doing college radio, caught up in REM (still very young and on the indie-college circuit) and other '80s roots-revival bands like The Blasters, Jason And The Scorchers and Los Lobos. He brought me those and I, from a slightly older sensibility - having been raised musically by my older siblings - brought him Dylan and The Band. And we had a lot of common ground in The Stones, especially Keith, Talking Heads, The Clash, The Ramones. From there, we explored blues, country, bluegrass, cajun, and any other traditional sounds we could find.
I understand nothing will ever feel like Springsteen did in those early days - not because the music isn't as good, but because I've grown up. But I'd give anything to stumble on new music that hits me the way REM did in 1985. The only thing close has been, maybe, Aimee Mann.
There's a lot of new(er) music that's very good and that I enjoy, but I'm hungering for something more. I want to hear something new that makes me want to shout from the rooftops, to annoy my friends by insisting they listen to this great new band. To run to my computer to announce it to you.
Ever since Allan discovered the joys of file sharing, he's been announcing finds that might appeal to me and asking if he can download them for me. (Nothing right now on the mixed ethics of free downloads. I am a writer very concerned with copyright issues; suffice to say I have seriously mixed feelings.) In all the many reports of what was available, the first that really made my eyes light up was a 1978 Springsteen show: all 3.5 hours of it on DVD.
I'm coming to liberate you, confiscate you...
I was among the legions of high-school fans who impatiently awaited the resolution of The Boss's legal troubles, which would bring our first opportunity to see him. Sure, the critics and older folks had seen him in now-legendary club dates, but the kids were still waiting. I saw everyone in those days, concerts were a regular part of my life, but a Springsteen show existed on another plane entirely.
Watching the DVDs the other night, I was transported back to those breathless days... barefoot girls sitting on the hood of a Dodge drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain... and reminded how music can never again speak to us the way it does at that age. I don't ask - or expect - music to give me solace or guide me through or fill a void or offer escape the way I knew it could then.
Bruce's wild exuberance onstage was transporting. But of course I was never just a party girl, and his songs of loneliness and alienation and searching reached deep down. I was known to be a Stones fanatic, and Joni Mitchell will always be my idol, but only Springsteen brought those feelings together - the excitement and release of rock and the poetry that seems to spring from our own souls. How many 40-somethings do you know who carry the lyrics to Thunder Road in their wallet?
It's a town for losers, I'm pulling out of here to win...
When Allan and I met in 1985, I had no one in my life with whom to share my intense love of music. (No one to go to baseball games with, either.) Allan was doing college radio, caught up in REM (still very young and on the indie-college circuit) and other '80s roots-revival bands like The Blasters, Jason And The Scorchers and Los Lobos. He brought me those and I, from a slightly older sensibility - having been raised musically by my older siblings - brought him Dylan and The Band. And we had a lot of common ground in The Stones, especially Keith, Talking Heads, The Clash, The Ramones. From there, we explored blues, country, bluegrass, cajun, and any other traditional sounds we could find.
I understand nothing will ever feel like Springsteen did in those early days - not because the music isn't as good, but because I've grown up. But I'd give anything to stumble on new music that hits me the way REM did in 1985. The only thing close has been, maybe, Aimee Mann.
There's a lot of new(er) music that's very good and that I enjoy, but I'm hungering for something more. I want to hear something new that makes me want to shout from the rooftops, to annoy my friends by insisting they listen to this great new band. To run to my computer to announce it to you.
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