Month’s end. New playlist for the month is now public. I was just going through it and feeling a bit melancholic about the passing of John Prine, specifically, and an ever-growing and ongoing catastrophe claiming tens of thousands of other Americans. And wondering if music is a coping mechanism or just escapist – and then contemplating the distinction. and wondering if I only think in terms of Americans dead because practically, it seems like our country is too far away from agency and initiative to make a difference outside its own borders – that many of its institutions cannot even act effectively or prudently inside their own jurisdictions. maybe their leaders are makng playlists. mourning songwriters. coping. escaping. It bothers me.
April was a rough couple of years. It came on the heels of a month that saw the supposed “greatest economy the world has ever seen” exposed for the hollow, precarious and brittle beast that it is. Equity markets giving back every fucking cent they made since the Cheeto was elected clown. And then today folks are talking about how April was ‘the greatest month the market has had since…”
63,871 (US) deaths from the virus at this moment. If 9/11 happened 21 days in a row, the death toll from the virus would still be higher. If you counted every job that existed in Alaska, Connecticut, Nevada, Hawaii, West Virginia, North Dakota, South Dakota, Iowa, Idaho, Mississippi, Missouri, Nebraska, Utah, Kansas, Vermont, Oklahoma, Arkansas, New Mexico, Wyoming, Maine, Oregon, New Hampshire and Kentucky – that would total 27 million jobs. 30 million jobs have been lost since February. Roughly 1 in every 5. Nero, watching Fox as Rome burns.
So like – lament, grieving is in order I suppose. But then there’s tons of countervailing points of reference that keep me from despair/despondency. Tonight, just before I started writing this, I saw a friend from college ask for advice online to help keep his two daughters (5 & 8) engaged as they learn music (guitar). And tons of people responded. Everyone wanted to help. And even if no one did, THE IDEA that in some house in the neighborhood of Riverside or Avondale or wherever holmes lives these days, has two little humans who are going to struggle with one-string versions of Black Sabbath tunes or Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star or something, and then eventually get it — and then think they’re hot shit for a quick minute — I’m not saying that’s priceless; i’m saying its worth a lot to me, just to know its there. And there is tons of that, everywhere – and i think it is kind of weird and completely, utterly illogical that stuff like that gives me courage and gives me hope, but it kind of does. Minus the kind-of. Away from the flourescents of the ICUs, there’s still a lot of beauty in the world — and inspiration too.
-s.
griff.works 
