About a week ago I was listening to "Into the Mystic" by Van Morrison. I'm fully in the flow of the guitar and Morrison's voice. I'm imagining that a combination of time travel and/or reincarnation means that I'm the gypsy soul that he wanted to rock when this song was released. (Goal achieved, Mr. Morrison. I am rocked.)
I turn to my husband and ask if he likes Van Morrison. And I receive the same answer I get whenever I ask him about a band or musician. It is as if he views the whole of music (excepting tiki or lounge music) as tolerable or adequate, but nothing life sustaining or life enhancing.
Times like these make me forget all the many benefits of marriage and the many positive characteristics of my husband. All I can think of is how did I manage to marry a man who sees no difference in quality between Van Morrison, Dexy's Midnight Runners, and The Doobie Brothers. My husband can date Hawaiian shirts within 5 years based on esoteric trivia that he has learned. But he has no real opinion on Van Morrison.
Van Morrison isn't the only artist to not impress my husband. I have yet to discover what he really likes musically beyond The Beach Boys.
One cannot be satisfied just by The Beach Boys!
But in the end--this isn't about my husband. My husband is amazing in so many ways even if his taste is music is limited and weak.
This is about me seeking me in others. This is about me frequently feeling lonely by the intensity of my interests that I so rarely see duplicated in others.
Where are those who are most like me? I can't be that odd. Can I?
Sunday, November 2, 2008
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