"My tunes, but they're your compositions…"-The Alan Parsons Project

Music. Of all things, I've been blah about music. I love music, but I don't know...I haven't been as excited to share for a while. Part of it's the season, Christmas is always dead. Nobody but American idle carolers release anything this time of year. Still, I've been dry even longer. I blame MyUnwife. I keep it in her Easter basket of rotten eggs and sour grapes.

This week somebody asked me about music. I didn't really know what to say, I'm not quite sure what I like now. Still, It felt good that somebody asked. It felt even better not keeping to myself. If nothing else, I could ask the question myself, "what do I like?" I collect music like some people collect…well whatever they collect. Liz Taylor collected husbands, but I have more CD's than that. Hell, I have more old 45's than that. I don't have any 78's so she's got me beat there.

I have a friend who collects individually wrapped sanitary wipes. Sorry, "Moist towelettes." I used to grab them for him whenever I went to Vegas. I'd laugh at him, but you never know, if some goo plague breaks out, I'd like to know that the sanitary wipe guy is on my side..

"Please, just one of the crab ones from Red Lobster. You have 20!"

"No, you called me 'silly.' Besides, 20 is better than 19. Now begone!"

Nope, I'm not gonna make fun of him. I could make fun of Liz, I don't see much need for a husband. I think MyUnwife would concur. Hang on, I think I need a handy-wipe; a little bitter just dripped down my chin onto my keyboard. It's burning my space bar like Alien blood.

So yeah, the music. I've been concerned. I've been doing my radio research job for almost 9 years now. And sometimes I feel so burned out. I love the music, but I deal with it every day. It's hard to keep the love alive.

So when somebody asks what I listened to today, I can't imagine it being that interesting. And yet they asked, and I replied. A conversation was born. Now I'm New Year's champagne, my cork protruding from somebody's eye and I'm spraying bands and songs everywhere. Even my dogs diving for the handy-wipes. Poor guy doesn't stand a chance: no opposable thumbs to tear the wrapper. Sorry dude.

I like music again. It's fresh and new, and I'm digging through my old stacks like they're new.

"what's This?"

Now talking about music has me wondering about other areas of my life. Can I find a new appreciation for the other things? Can I adapt to the shifts and trends of style and taste and come back with a new outlook and appreciation. I sure hope so.