I have a lot of stuff on my hard drive. In fact, I have a separate hard drive dedicated to music. It holds all. It knows all. It possesses everything. It lies in wait for my wandering attention. It curls it’s index finger at me and beckons in moments of distraction, asking me, inviting me, seducing me into attending to its indiscriminate hoarding of tunes, sounds, bits of pieces, strange vocal wanderings, mislabeled entries, instrumental doodling, and lost and forgotten tracks, both purposeful and accidental.
On an afternoon when I should be outside playing or, at the least, cleaning the gutters in anticipation of winter, I, instead, troll through the listings to see what might be lurking, what could be hiding in the cracks between songs, symphonies, and audio books.
Today, for example, I sort by song, though I might also have sorted by artist, album, number of plays, genre, last played, or any number of ways. Thank you, iTunes. I’m scrolling through the As, limiting myself to tracks that are short, around a minute, ones that have a title I don’t understand, or something just plain weird. It’s fun. It’s educational in a strange way. I don’t remember any of these. Check this out. What could this be? Who is that?
Oh, my God! It’s 4:35 and getting dark.