Wednesday, March 4, 2026
In my teaching job, only about one-sixth of what I did was music—my joy. The rest was a record: an endless trail of paperwork and email. Is the experience ruined if you cannot photograph it? If evidence of what you do supersedes the intrinsic value of pure experience, you’re caught. Constantly proving, posing for the “permanent record.”
Education is not about learning, but about producing a tangible record of “assessment,” an outcome that is more important than learning. A college degree is a recorded history, complete with the university seal—a reel of garbage. A wedding is an album of pretty people posing “for the record.” Is your life “for the record”? It’s not about delicious dinners with friends or the love of people, but evidence that you have friends and you tasted good food. It’s not about intimacy, but a trail of “legitimacy.” If you don’t produce anything, it might not be real. Must we have evidence?
If the photographs aren’t taken, is the event ruined? “We’re having such a good time; what a pity no one is taking pictures.” Would you dare attend without a phone? One hundred percent of my life is unrecorded. How can you know me to be real? I have no memories, and being that I don’t post on social media, I have no identity catalog. That’s OK. I don’t need paperwork, a running reel to show my legitimacy. I’m here. Intimately. I know I am.
Being here and engaging with life intimately is enough. I don’t want to miss any more of my life posing “for the record.” I don’t want to waste any more of my life reliving the record. The experience and what’s “live” is far too precious to waste fiddling with what’s dead—the reel. I like keeping it Real, not making a so-called newsreel.