Where the Tunnels Go

These days have been long. Longer than usual, in fact. That's right:
Longer than usual.

Impossible, you say? A day is a day, you say? Not so, I say. These days have been long, and they're getting even longer. Let me tell you what I mean. I just now looked at my clock. It reads 7:18. At this time yesterday, it was a little before midnight. I swear.

How does that happen?

We've been stressed. The lump in our throat says so. The knot in our stomach and the crink in our neck confirm it. With producing the Buyer's Guide, shipping the November issue, preparing for CEDIA, trying to get a jump start on December, putting the final touches on our upcoming Diabelli Variations CD, wondering where the tunnels go, reflecting on loss, attempting to solve problems which have not yet occurred, being a wife and mother, being a husband and father, being a brother and son, pondering the meaning of life and the possibility of happiness, and having to stop to pee, we've been stressed.

But I protest too much. What's really the point of all this?

I wanted to let you know that I've been reading Art Dudley's Buyer's Guide essays. They're absolutely wonderful. They're informative and opinionated and absolutely wonderful. I've also just started Jonathan Safran Foer's delicious-looking Extremely Loud & Incredible Close. His name — Jonathan Safran Foer — for no good reason, played itself like a song, like life, over and over again in my mind. It sang:

Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer

Jonathan
Safran Foer

Jonathan Safran
Foer

Jonathan
Safran
Foer

Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer

It went on and on like this as I stared at people on the screeching PATH train, his name clanging against the orange seats and knocking into the dirty walls. And then, I wondered:

Isn't that what they put in rice?

And just as I wondered it, the woman across from me, in her jean jacket atop white sweater above black and white swirled skirt beyond flip-flops celebrating red-painted toes, pulled from her bag (whose looks I can't recall):

Jonathan Safran Foer.

"That's weird," I thought.

I wish I could just tell you what Art Dudley says in his essays, but I guess it'll have to wait. You'll have to read it yourself. I'll tell you this, though: He reveals the key to getting the most out of your music. It has something to do with saying "I love you."

Tonight, and every night, I want my music, my life, to sound wonderful.
I love you.

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Comments
JimC's picture

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close is one of my favorite books. I think you're really going to like it. It's funny, strange, heart-rending, and beautiful. Let us know what you think.

JimC's picture

A friend of mine recently told me to read Krauss' book because she also said it reminded her of EL&IC, but I had no idea they were married. I've been meaning to stop by the library and pick it up. Thanks for the reminder. For another good example of non-liner storytelling," try Audrey Niffenegger's ""The Time Traveler's Wife."" Don't let the inside-flap precis scare you...it's not nearly as sappy or attempted-sci-fi as it sounds", but is very well written and VERY human. Thanks also for your poetic prose and daily honesty. It's refreshing. (Sorry, I didn't mean to make this blog forum turn into some sort of book club, but Bach and Mahler aren't my only passions in this world.)

Stephen Mejias's picture

>(Sorry, I didn't mean to make this blog forum turn into some sort of book club, but Bach and Mahler aren't my only passions in this world.)No need to apologize. I love talking about books. I was the one who brought it up anyway.Krauss and Foer say that any similarities between the two books are absolutely coincidental. Man, if that's true, these two have some sort of amazing love connection. The similarities are uncanny; it's almost as though the books were written by the same person. If you read The History of Love, please let me know what you think. And I'll certainly look into Audrey Niffenegger's book. Thanks. >Thanks also for your poetic prose and daily honesty. It's refreshing. Aw, thank you. That means a lot to me.

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