I’m listening to Toni Price’s latest album “Talk Memphis.” It’s her first release since she moved to San Diego. She used many of her former favorite Austin musicians on the album. It’s great stuff, as usual.

What I don’t get is Why San Diego? Why, Toni, why? She had a standing gig on Tuesday night at the Continental Club and a huge fan base in Austin. She was the queen of Austin. She’s starting from scratch, scrambling for gigs and name recognition in San Diego. Does San Diego even have a music scene?

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “why?”

Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

4 thoughts on “Why?”

  1. ‘Why?’ does not cross the mind of a hare. A hare thinks of two things: Fornicate and eat. Mostly the former.

    ‘Why do I think only of procreation’ does not cross the hare’s mind. Only the knowing that he must as much as possible. And then eat.

    The hawk does not ask ‘Why must I eat this hare’ It simply soars and watches before swooping from the sky to catch the fornicator.

  2. To what end is why? How is it that why is an end in itself, or is it only the beginning? What causes why, or does why cause what? What is the purpose of why, and why is that? How can one explain why when one does not know why?

  3. Of all of the interrogatives in our language, “why” is the most speculative. The others may be answered with a brief, factual statement or explanation, but “why” demands more thought and is tied much more tightly to the heart than to the brain. Viz questions from the kids: Why did Grandma die Daddy? Why didn’t God make her better, she prayed every day. Why are all of the people who want to be President so mean to each other? Do we want a mean President?

  4. “Why?” I always ask myself. Why was I born to be here in this particular time and place? Why do we live out these lives on Planet Earth? And will I know the purpose of all of this suffering and these joys, one day, when, like everyone, I die? Why, with all that I’ve worked to gain in life, and all that middle class American society offers us, do I seem to be more unhappy than I was as a child growing up in a poor Alabama family, with only the expanse of forest behind our house to amuse me? Why?

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