On the subject of Adam Neely and his effect on a beloved elder stranger

I'd like to thank this guy for reminding me that there was a time when intelligence was a virtue, not a liability. 

Not everyone agrees, of course. 

If we're being honest, this guy can come off a little snobbish. And look at his hair. And those eyebrows. 

Don't get me wrong: I  love when people style their hair in sharp, classy fashion.  

However, I don't love when people style their hair in such a sharp and classy fashion that it distracts me from admiring myself.

And the eyebrows and blue eyes? Fuck that guy. 

 Sometimes, I pretend I'm playing bass like him, but he's not there, cuz fuck him, I'm doing it. Not him. I'm being such a musical badass.  All my friends admire me...  

Which reminds me, I was trying to make a point: 

This guy and his music pals and his other music pals time-shifted me to the idle hours I spent at the MSCD music library so many god-damned years ago.

The MSCD library provided greasy headphones for the less-affluent students. Between classes, I'd grab a pair and snag the Miles Davis' Greatest Hits record from the audio stacks.

This particular record has a version of All Blues that must have been done during one of Miles' drug-influenced states because it's manic AF. I've always loved that version.

Full disclosure: I stole the record from the library before I graduated and enjoyed it for years in my private library. Guilt eventually compelled me to sneak the record back into the library so some other nerd could enjoy it, even though nobody -- not even nerds --  liked vinyl records back then. And to be fair, it's just not a good Miles Davis record,  except for that spastic version of All Blues. Which I still love. 

Most classes were routine, but some were special:  basic journalism, inverted-pyramid style writing classes, an economics class, and a music appreciation course (which filled a requirement to graduate. God bless liberal education.)

For a journalism assignment, I interviewed this guy, Ron Miles, who was such a fucking sweetheart. He was a luscious trumpet musician, professor, and just so fucking nice. I never forgot him. 

The professor who taught our music appreciation course was also a DJ at a local NPR classic music radio station. Still unsure which job was her side-hustle. 

I'll never forget her, either. Her name is lost to me, which is shameful, but how was I to know back then that I'd still be thinking about her 35 years later?

As a result of these interactions, I tried to learn how to enjoy the jazz, baroque, romantic music I had encountered. It was the kind of thing an educated person would enjoy, wasn't it?  It was also a lot to learn, and at the time I was busy trying to graduate. 

So I gave up.

I don't really listen to jazz, baroque and romantic today,  but they often come back to bite me, a little whisper from behind:  'Hey there, big guy... remember when you weren't a mental pussy?'  

Happened just the other day when I  stumbled into this guy and his band on the internet (which I thought had devolved into another tedious ring of hell,  such that there were now 10 rings instead of nine. I guess there's still some value in it.) 

So much fun. 

Thanks, guy.