a description of the amazing and exciting adventures i have here in baltimore--- and other lies.

 
It occured to me the other day how much time I spend with my walkman on. Going on nineteen years, more than half my life. My first walkman was not the Sony Walkman proper, but one of the competitors which sprung up almost immediately, as is the case with electronics. It was pretty good: radio, antenna, casette player. I remember one of my first tapes was "Remain in Light", by the Talking Heads. It was soon accompanied by The Who's Greatest Hits. I loved my walkman, but I hid it from prying parental eyes for fear that they would disapprove of my wearing it, especially to school. But I had to have my tunes, so I hid it under my pillow at night, and brought it to school, so that I could have something to entertain me while waiting for, and riding on, busses. This was especially pleasant while I rode the public transportation back home, after having participated in extracurricular events. And, a walkman has been a part of my transport system ever since, particularly since I hoof it around more often than not.
My walkman linked me to the world. I could listen to my favourite DJs. Hear music no one else cared about, be it classical or hip hop or whatever my humours bade me attend. And, this was the key point: avoid the nattering of all other human beings.

My student, Esther, asked me the other day about my walkman, and I proceeded to tell her about my lifeline. I said that I am just like a junky, that I feel I need my walkman rather than need it. "Of course, I'm not going to kill anyone to get batteries or anything, but I feel naked without it." This is quite true, too: when I go about my walkaday life, I regret choosing not to port my portable stereo. It is a drug.

I say it loud, I say it proud:
I'm here, I use my walkman to tune out the world, especially the idiot conversations around me, and use not being able to hear people as a dodge not to get involved in protracted dialogues about nothing at all, thereby insuring my privacy and letting me, without truly withdrawing in autistic fashion into my own world, escape into a blissful state, almost heaven like.
Get used to it.
posted by gregorio at 9:51 PM