I am trying to break your heart

There’s a danger in linking emotions to objects of art. Emotions are volatile yet art objects (songs, books, paintings photographs) remain resolutely the same, infinite in their “objectitude.” I fear I’m losing the connection to songs I use to feel deeply about. Tones have grown hollow, distant and tinny. Whatever circuit that bridges the gap between digitally encoded sound and bruised, weary eardrums, eliciting that ache in the chest and shiver up the spine, has lately been left Off. In a panic I start to intellectualize, paying more attention to the physical details of a song, it’s composite parts, recording techniques, arrangements – oops, off-key vocal there, wow these lyrics are kind of trite, that bridge sounds so forced – dismantling a marvelous device until its simply a pile of nuts and bolts. I am terrified of this happening to all the music I’ve invested in thus far, leaving nothing but a trail of used-up songs behind me, like cracked peanut shells.