And Daniel doesn't deliver...

      Title in reference to the fact that I've decided on uploading some obscure 60's garage/baroque pop instead of the previously promised garage rock comp. Why? Eh...people who love the genre will hate me for this, but as I thought about it, I realized that if I was going to make a modern garage rock comp I would inevitably be sticking to the same five-or-so bands (Ko and the Knockouts, The Dirtbombs, The Detroit Cobras, The Gories, et. all of Detroit...) and as a result of my fearsome allegiance to a particular scene I couldn't do it in good conscience. Yet. I say this as if the whole of Detroit could give a damn about some guy from memphis' "fearsome allegiance" to its garage rock.  
      Anyway, (and this may very will be the first time I've used more than one paragraph in a blog) I recently finished Dostoevsky's novel "The Idiot". Scenes from the book haven't stopped playing themselves out in my head. I'm always amazed at how he conveyed such intriguing and weighty ideas without resorting to the kind of expoisition that detracts from the development of the characters. At least that's how it seems to me, and in closing the back of the book over the final page I felt as if I had known the people in the book, and like them, I was set to begin a new and less compelling part in life. Myshkin is one of my favorite characters in any book, and by the story's end, I felt more emotionally bound to his fate than I had realized. I think, and I know how superficial this is, it was because I saw so many of my good intentions, so much of my conscience wrapped up in his character. I can't claim to be a Myshkin, and if anything I lived the past year in a sort of unconscious (but debaucherous nonetheless) antithesis to his ideal, but I have always been a good, trusthworthy friend who understood self-sacrifice and humility as a part of that equation. I see the end of the book as almost perfectly analgous to my sophomore year of college. Naivety and trust have more frequently than anything been my undoing, and I guess that's the small-town sheltered way of things manifesting itself in me. Despite that, I can't help but feel committed to the sincerity I was raised on. Perhaps I need to find a more functional balance of it. Maybe it's because of my own romantic experiences, but I don't exactly hold a traditional view of the relationships between the characters. I see Natasya Filippovna as a much more viable foil to Myshkin than Rogozin. The ultimate nature of her character is an incredibly accurate portrayal of the relationship between the sinner and salvation - Rogozin presents her with a choice, and that's it. It's the reality of her character that makes her so powerful, in my opinion. Whether someone can truly judge her in light of her circumstances is an entirely different matter, and I feel Dostoevsky's grey area here is profoundly true to life, if not intended to make a statement about our capacity to truly judge any sinner.