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  • Quantum theory suggests that watching something changes it. I think this works with listening too.

    Many mornings, while driving to work, I listen to the radio, and like a psych-ward savant, wait for the radio to speak to me. Not in words but in music.

    Bob Dylan’s “Tangled Up in Blue” means one thing and Craig Finn singing “Honolulu Blues” means something completely different. These signals vary each morning. The Russian roulette wheel of random tracks is anything but random. It’s chaos calculated to its logical extension.

    By carefully listening, specific messages – musical orders for the day – are imparted to no one but me. While others passively enjoy the ambient noise, applying makeup in the rearview mirror, trying to avoid running over the little kids crossing the street to get to school, I heed the messages.

    Sometimes, on this short commute, I sing along. Especially to Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” When the fog horn blows, I understand its meaning and use it for my preservation.
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