Saturday, June 11, 2011

For Your Weekend Listening Pleasure



A song that drove me crazy for months trying to find out its name and artist, hearing it late at night at parties and bars, in a state to forget if anyone ever told me. It was like Cinderella.

I found it mesmerising, and sickening. I would look around me, in a haze of drugs, drink and lateness, and feel uneasy, realising how temporary everything about my life was. I wasn't always going to be friends with the people around me. If they were dancing to it with their eyes closed, beside me, we weren't experiencing the same thing. I was alone, and so were they. And we were all going to die, one by one, and when we did it wouldn't make much difference to anyone else. Maybe it was something about the mention of infinity, but without being conscious of it, it made me aware of what we were all doing, and why, and how little it would matter except for having been how we passed time.

I was right. One party was the thirtieth of someone in whose face I'd like to spit now, and I danced to it at the end of the night, sharing the dancefloor with only one other person whom I don't much like anymore. And it's okay. New people have taken their places, and when they go, there'll be others. I don't need numbers anymore, and I know that it was part of growing up to have needed them then. The people who really matter are still there, although they look different and act differently - and so do I.

I still love the song. I like that it takes me back to those nights. I like that in the early nineties, four kids in Oakland just wrote it. And I like that whatever it means to me, it's not mine, and that it will be around long after I'm done.

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