Not a Letter to YVYNYL, but a great piece of pouring-out-the-feelings about how music matters:

ronzani3:

I wonder about homelessness sometimes. I wonder if I could hack it. From a psychological standpoint I think I’d be alright. The only thing that’s ever kept me groomed and clean is a perceived expectation, either from society, family or a partner. In this scenario, I wouldn’t be trying to court friends or a partner, not out of shame, but because it’s hard to imagine anyone treating me with dignity. And I’d rather be isolated than entering social interactions with the gnawing feeling that the other person was looking down on / feeling sorry for me. So I’d be lonely, but that’s nothing new.

Functionally I would struggle. I’m a poor beggar (I know from experience) and I’ve never dumpster dived. Imagining it now, I think my biggest worry (at least at first) would be being seen and confronted trying to procure discarded food. My instinct would be to run, despite knowing I probably wouldn’t get in much trouble if any. I’m sure eventually I’d get over (or at least ignore) the fear of confrontation. Agoraphobia is a problem developed when one can take survival for granted. If survival is in doubt, you do what you gotta do.

I was in Miami Beach a few days ago and I was looking at where homeless people slept. So many are in plain sight, under overhangs and what not. Personally, I think I’d struggle to be out in the open like that. I wouldn’t want to be noticed. Again, the reason is not shame, but because I find comfort in privacy. I wonder if the majority of the homeless population stay in these high traffic areas, or if there’s an entire community I don’t know about who elect to stay out of sight. When I walk to the beach I think about the miles of coastline and semi-jungles. I think ideally I’d clear an area in the jungle and create a makeshift canopy. Maybe there would be unforeseen complications with that plan, but that’s where I would try to start.

I nourish my soul with music. I need it as an escape. That’s the one thing I would desperately miss. I’d either need to keep my chromebook, finding outlets wherever to charge it and using public wifi to illegally download that night’s music. Or I’d sell the chromebook and try to find that emotional release elsewhere, perhaps through literature. Maybe this makes me ignorant as all hell, but I feel like not reliably having access to music would fuck everything up. I’m guessing I could figure out how to find food and water and a place to be. And if I had my music and a numbing agent, I might be able to make that work. But take that release away and I’d become much more desperate. It’s like John Darnielle writes in this song about his abusive step-father.

“And then I’m awake and I’m guarding my face,
Hoping you don’t break my stereo,
Because it’s the one thing that I couldn’t live without.
And so I think about that,
And then I sort of black out”

When we have the music we can tackle some pretty ugly shit. I used to get drunk, and assuming everyone found solace in music, would play songs and point out lyrics for acquaintances. And I’d find myself astonished, not that some people didn’t care about what touched me, but that they didn’t have that powerful relationship with any music. What other things did they lose themselves in? Is it uncool to be so open about what speaks to you? Does it expose a vulnerability?

Anyway, I’m losing focus, probably because it’s 5 in the morning. This is an unclean way to end a ponderous, probably offensive and out of touch blog post, but so it goes. At least I’m writing.

Tell us more, plz.