I listen to The Wall pretty much every Wednesday night. It's my longest day at work. Eleven straight hours of patient care not counting possible hospital visits before and after. By the time I get home, my kids are asleep, my dinner is cold and there are 20-something notes to write before I sleep. So I turn on The Wall and attend to the task at hand. If I'm not on-call, I add red wine to the lineup. I'm not a concept album kind of guy. I'm not a 70s rock kind of guy. And I'm sure as hell not a Roger Waters kind of guy -- dude can't sing. And yet I listen to The Wall, cockney accents and all.
Medical documentation oftentimes doesn't require much thought. The thinking was done hours ago, and the resolution of the plan is oftentimes already known in the now resulted blood tests or clinical progression/regression. Documentation is simply regurgitation to a godhead database in the hopes of good communication and secretly also some legal protection. Depending on the volume and complexity of the day, it can be three to four hours of regurgitation.
My limited reading suggests that The Wall was conceived and composed in a time of great isolation for Rogers Waters. He was growing apart from his band mates, his fan base and his fame. My understanding is that the four members of Pink Floyd recorded the album in separate rooms and rarely spoke. One of the lesser two was fired from the band and rehired as a session musician. The album was recorded in produced in 1979 (in the months leading up to my birth) so you know that was an ashtray of inspiration. The Beatles were long gone and so was the Viet Nam War. There was nothing to be excited about (Being There?) or pissed off about (Quadrophenia ?). So in sum a sad guy writes a sad album about sad feelings in sad times.
I don't feel sad. Actually when I'm home I'm quite happy, which is a contrast from my professional day in some ways. So why do I listen to The Wall on Wednesdays in my few precious hours at home. Is it because "Comfortably Numb" was originally known as "The Doctor"? Is it because I think the screeching hawk sound just before the transition to "Part 2" is really, really bad-ass? Is it because the last ten minutes are a worm-infested pile of shit building on itself that both betrays and fulfills the first three sides of the album? Do I have to build the metaphorical wall around myself to keep to writing inane notes? No. No. No. No.
I listen to The Wall because that's just what I do on Wednesday nights when I write notes. Nothing more. Nothing less.
This is the difference between blogging (or "blah"-ging as my friend Vera Rose would say) at age 29 and 35. Introspection now only lasts until the inconvenient bout of insomnia subsides.
Medical documentation oftentimes doesn't require much thought. The thinking was done hours ago, and the resolution of the plan is oftentimes already known in the now resulted blood tests or clinical progression/regression. Documentation is simply regurgitation to a godhead database in the hopes of good communication and secretly also some legal protection. Depending on the volume and complexity of the day, it can be three to four hours of regurgitation.
My limited reading suggests that The Wall was conceived and composed in a time of great isolation for Rogers Waters. He was growing apart from his band mates, his fan base and his fame. My understanding is that the four members of Pink Floyd recorded the album in separate rooms and rarely spoke. One of the lesser two was fired from the band and rehired as a session musician. The album was recorded in produced in 1979 (in the months leading up to my birth) so you know that was an ashtray of inspiration. The Beatles were long gone and so was the Viet Nam War. There was nothing to be excited about (Being There?) or pissed off about (Quadrophenia ?). So in sum a sad guy writes a sad album about sad feelings in sad times.
I don't feel sad. Actually when I'm home I'm quite happy, which is a contrast from my professional day in some ways. So why do I listen to The Wall on Wednesdays in my few precious hours at home. Is it because "Comfortably Numb" was originally known as "The Doctor"? Is it because I think the screeching hawk sound just before the transition to "Part 2" is really, really bad-ass? Is it because the last ten minutes are a worm-infested pile of shit building on itself that both betrays and fulfills the first three sides of the album? Do I have to build the metaphorical wall around myself to keep to writing inane notes? No. No. No. No.
I listen to The Wall because that's just what I do on Wednesday nights when I write notes. Nothing more. Nothing less.
This is the difference between blogging (or "blah"-ging as my friend Vera Rose would say) at age 29 and 35. Introspection now only lasts until the inconvenient bout of insomnia subsides.