So it's past midnight, I have a ton of work to do, and can't think of a better thing to do than procrastinate. Figures, right? A friend of mine just sent me the entire soundtrack to the fantastic rock opera RENT, and I've spent the last half hour putting it in order and listening to the whole thing for the first time in two years. In high school, every single girl in my class (and a few of the guys, too) knew all the words to this one song, La Vie Boheme. It's a tribute to anything and everything, the most random and sporadic toasting of life in general put to song. We spent freshman, sophomore, and part of junior year bursting into song at various points throughout the day, carrying out the seven-minute song in its very fast-paced entirety and somehow hardly missing a single word.
Here I am, listening to La Vie Boheme, somehow remembering all the words and belting out the song in the middle of the night all by my lonesome when I should be doing something constructive, and I find myself thinking, "This song is kind of Cagean." It is, really. You should listen to it, if you don't mind the very strong and abundant innuendos. It's a toast to freedom of expression, art, randomness, chance, rebellion, conformity, and contradiction. And as soon as this thought occurs to me, I find myself singing, "To Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham and Cage....oh."
Merce Cunningham and John Cage have been a part of my formative years without my even knowing it. I choose to take this as a message from the universe, though in all likelihood it is just a coincidence.