Right now I am making my way through Ted Gioia's piece on authenticity in music. A quick check reveals that last year at about this time I referenced him and accused him of writing the one-sentence paragraphs that litter LinkedIn and too much of Substack. That ain't happening in this piece, nor do I honestly recall why I levelled that critique of him at the time. Probably I'm just jealous.
Gioia has impressive range and has really dedicated himself to his project. I commend him for it, as if he gives a fuck. He portrays his father movingly in this piece and transitions from that into an earnest reflection on the topic of irony and authenticity, the Goofus and Gallant of contemporary discourse. I'll tell you more when I finish it.
Right now I'm gearing up to drive north for a few weeks. DC, Princeton, New York and an exurb thereof, Cambridge, Maine and Vermont. A little business on the way up, then Mary flies up for vacation. We don't even have a date fixed for our return. Really it's optimal empty-nested free wheeling. I will report from the road.
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