Bed-post I

This will serve as my first official bed-post; an update from the bed as my beautiful wife Elena sleeps next to me. There are a few conventions I'd like to follow. First of all, there will be a few spelling and/or grammatical errors in this series. Get used to it. I'm typing as fast as my two massive thumbs will allow. Secondly, these posts may meander a bit, considering they're inspired by the things that I think about that render my mind insomniac.
With that, I begin this series.
To extend my previous post on music, I want to elaborate on what inspired me to marginalize pop music in my life. There comes a time in every rock fan's life where he reaches the conclusion that all of the mythology, all of the social currency, and all of the awesome feelings one derives while stonily waxing poetic about how cool rockstar X is, are all functions of youth that one must grow out of. Being a music fan to me is part of the human condition, so why not listen to some really great music that represents the pantheon of all music that has ever been composed? Though entirely a matter of taste, I will argue that all of these great musicians are not alive today. In fact, they are long since dead.
I'm beginning a movement that creates the same mythology that underlies Jimmy Page's, Miles Davis', and... well, Enya's allure. And it all begins with a viewing of the movie Immortal Beloved. Best period piece ever. And yes, it's still awkward for me to write or say "period piece."