There is way too much music on this earth. I know it?s not an original sentiment, but with every passing week I?m amazed at all the past, present, and future sounds that I have yet to learn about. Perhaps I?m just easy to amaze, but I?ll say it again: there is WAY too much music on this earth. And good music, too. Sure, we could complain about the glut of artificial sonic sweeteners clogging up the airwaves at any given moment, but why waste each other?s time? That?s precious seconds, minutes, and hours that could be spent fawning over our personal soundtracks for the day. Good music makes me excited. Really, REALLY excited. And good hip-hop damn near restores my faith in humanity, but that?s another post for another time. Hell, I just got here?give it time. Baby steps, my friend, baby steps. Allow me to crawl first. Walking will follow, I promise.

Rewind to Friday night: downstairs level of a bar called 2i?s, West Village, NYC. Spinning some soul and funk 45s at an opening night party of a friend?s play. Outside of the play itself (entitled BANJEE, which is on some other ish entirely), it was the definite highlight of the weekend. Few moments compare to the smile of recognition or an expression of someone being taken back in time with a song they haven?t heard in years. I figure if you have 40- and 50-year old cats raising their hands in the air, making noise as you drop more grooves in the mix, then you have to be doing something right. A couple gettin? their swerve on in the corner, two heads spark a battle in the middle of the corner, bustin? moves they haven?t broke out in a while cause they?re feelin? it like they did when they were 18?that?s love. That?s respect. Clearly I was born in the wrong decade.

I?m 30 and restless. Hair thinning up front, as if it?s burnt off of my scalp because my brain is constantly on overload. Gray hair shows up often and has been since early twenties. My spirit belongs to Jesus Christ, but my flesh chooses not to acknowledge said allegiance. The internal fighting seems never-ending. This world will make you scream, throw things, cry out to the heavens, set things on fire, instigate a road rage incident, choke your basketball coach, hold your high school hostage, rob banks, or just tell the person nearest you without warning to shut the hell up for five minutes. We?re all capable of a dark moment. All of us. Don?t let anybody tell you different. There must be a God, because I should?ve lost my mind by now. God spared me. He said, ?keep your mind, lose your hair.? I said, ?Deal.? What else was I gonna say?

It?s close to closing time at Rosen Publishing and anticipation grows as we all wonder when the sky will finally open up. Seems as if meteorologists have been teasing us with the threat of snow since at least Sunday. Keeps getting pushed back. Slightly maddening. Almost as much as the job itself, but not quite. Online radio shows break up the monotony of the customer service gig. Answer the phone, troubleshoot the problem, take the order, gauge attitudes, somehow keep your own in check, repeat as necessary. Some days are insane here. Some days not so much.

Still getting used to the idea of me doing this. I never liked the whole blog thing and here I am, right in the mix. Joke?s on me, I guess. I suppose it?s better than choosing from that list of things this world will make you do, so here we go. Therapy where you can get it.

Like I said, I?m new to this. More will follow in a more comfortable fashion. Gotta start somewhere. To be continued.