posted on December 17, 2003 @ 6:08 pm
ocassionally i can feel myself getting older, settling into my rut of adulthood. the most recent awakening? my music. when i was younger, all music consumed my life. it still does, but as i noted to jennifer recently, it's the same cds. nin, placebo, smashing pumpkins, modest mouse, the faint. my new artists are rhett miller and the postal service. beyond that, i don't own many new cds. granted the large bit of this problem rests in the fact i can't download anything, since my computer isn't working. also, obviously, i don't have any money to buy new cds. i'd like peaches' new (and old) cd, and i have lists of songs and bands andy langer plays for me. before i go get their cd, though, i'll get a pack of cigarettes, discount hair accessories, and eye make-up. or a book from the 19th century. or four pairs of earings.
you know when i would have bought earrings over music? in 5th grade, before i hit my obsessive music binging (once i tired of light rock radio and discovered the splendor of being able to listen to green day [i had that picture on my bedroom door for years] any time i wanted). even when good songs come on my internet radio, they're at least four years old. jennifer pointed out old people don't like the new music; they like what they grew up to. we momentarily stared in silence at one another then turned away.
instead of buying two cds a month, i'll be paying my cell phone bill. i could go to 20 shows a month for what i'm repaying to college loans. watching the morning news, i don't feel so 20-like. 6:16 a.m.
i feel that one day i'll have a friend to go skipping through town and taking pictures with at sunrise. they'll say to me, "it's seven o'clock. don't you think we should have hit downtown half an hour ago?"
and i'll respond, "so true. i suppose we can go again earlier tomorrow."
they'll suggest, "we should go through travis heights this morning � you know how much you love those houses � and tomorrow we can go downtown."
i'll smile and say, "great idea, love," and we'll spend an hour driving through neighborhoods looking for that perfect shot, a sad one-dimmensional reminder of a moment lost forever in time. we'll sit at the lamar pedestrian bridge, watching traffic and exchanging petty conversation forgotten as quickly as our clouds of hot breath dissipate.
until that time, however, i'll continue making excuses to venture forth that early � post office drop box is always good � and take quick snapshots from my car while at red lights. alone and coughing so violently i can taste turkish royals in the back of my throat. faith, little ones. chelsea's mighty negative, but beneath it all she knows something will work itself out. quoth mom, "the pocket angel is for you to carry and remind you you're not alone. faith is a real stress reliever...kiss kiss." 7:55 a.m.
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