Fletch
I'll Lock Up
- Messages
- 8,865
- Location
- Iowa - The Land That Stuff Forgot
We deal with old, lost things. Where you find them you will typically find lost people - those who are withdrawn or limited or broken somehow. So we have to deal at some point with lost people, and the possibility that we might become lost ourselves.
I more or less gave up serious 78 record collecting – which I loved – because I came to realize it was turning me into a type. Most all my friends were collectors - and that meant 100 per cent male, usually with few outside interests, minimal education or social graces, thankless jobs and often distinctly unhappy lives. The exceptions were typically gay men who linked the music to the camp values of show business. Not a lost group exactly, but not my group.
I managed to avoid a few of the collector categories, but the pull was strong and it seemed natural. This vibrant and colorful music was better than real life for these guys. It worked best if it was a total, consuming obsession - something that could block out everything else.
I began to wonder if that was the price of having this music in my life - that I was going to waste years, like an addict or something, and stunt my growth (emotionally and psychically). Life isn't fair, after all, and if you want something different from other people it is often pointedly unfair.
Who else here thinks their passions might have limited them somehow - that there might be a cost you didn't expect, that you weren't prepared to pay? That what you were after was a world, and there might not be a place for you in it?
I more or less gave up serious 78 record collecting – which I loved – because I came to realize it was turning me into a type. Most all my friends were collectors - and that meant 100 per cent male, usually with few outside interests, minimal education or social graces, thankless jobs and often distinctly unhappy lives. The exceptions were typically gay men who linked the music to the camp values of show business. Not a lost group exactly, but not my group.
I managed to avoid a few of the collector categories, but the pull was strong and it seemed natural. This vibrant and colorful music was better than real life for these guys. It worked best if it was a total, consuming obsession - something that could block out everything else.
I began to wonder if that was the price of having this music in my life - that I was going to waste years, like an addict or something, and stunt my growth (emotionally and psychically). Life isn't fair, after all, and if you want something different from other people it is often pointedly unfair.
Who else here thinks their passions might have limited them somehow - that there might be a cost you didn't expect, that you weren't prepared to pay? That what you were after was a world, and there might not be a place for you in it?