John Sacheli checks in with a post describing his growing ennui and why he’s sitting at home when Bruce Springsteen is playing.  I know how he feels, looking around and realizing none of the cool stuff you used to do as a kid applies to you now.  I think we both should probably make more of an effort; I know I’m getting a little antsy not playing music any more.

As for Bruce Springsteen, allow me to say that I think Bruce is kind of the Earnest Hemingway of rock-and-roll.  By this I mean:  I just don’t get it.  I know a lot of people whose musical and literary senses I admire - people whom I generally admire a great deal - who are just nuts about Bruce and/or Hemingway, and you would think that I would therefore have found the key to what they like, but nope.  Hemingway and Springsteen both embody something perhaps just a little too simplistically masculine for me to appreciate.

I’ve tried to understand.  I bought myself For Whom the Bell Tolls for my birthday once.  I don’t get it.  I’ve stopped trying.