Yesterday, shortly after 3pm, iTunes played 3 different versions of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” in a row: Nirvana’s, from Nevermind; Tori Amos’, from Crucified, and Pearl Jam’s, from one of their inordinate number of live albums. Sweet moment.
Today, walking to work, the first song that played on my Shuffle was “Baba O’Reilly”, by the Who. This is one of my favourite songs of all time. I can’t help but beam a huge smile as soon as I hear those opening bars. It’s all I can do to stop myself from air-windmilling, chanelling Pete Townshend.
Yesterday, waking up a little on the sleepy side, I could hear what sounded like shitty carnival music outside. I was so confused. Was it a parade? A float randomly passing my block? No, it was a cheer-band, for the Sun Run, which I’d totally forgotten. Bonus points to the singer, who joked “Hey! Stop running away from us. We’re not that bad are we?”
In my dream last night, cubist versions of my friends held court, judging my life, speaking solely in DJ-scratched verse from 70’s rock songs. I tried to defend myself, speaking (as is usually the case) in French (verse), but they wouldn’t listen unless I beat-boxed my defense. I’ve no idea of the outcome of this “trial” in my dream, because, even in my dream I was confused to the purpose of the whole process, and even more so by the proceedings.