as i’m sitting here fighting with open source software and trusting itunes to shuffle my music collection into something meaningful, or at least amusing, on comes Something’s Always Wrong, by Toad the Wet Sprocket. suddenly all i can think about are summers past; moments in freeze frame. the things i got away with when my parents thought i was somewhere else. feeling wild.
songs from pale, fear, and dulcinea riding around on backroads in dust covered cars with friends from church camp. trying to figure it all out. discussing theology, then making out in the airport parking lot. the sound of ten as a wake up call. singing songs from nirvana in a shitty apartment in western maryland with a now south american missionary who felt me up on the couch after prom when he thought i was asleep. phish, the cranberries, pj harvey with my fellow band nerds around the pool. the smell of sweat in the pittsburgh clubs. my first taste of getting out of the trap of a town that i grew up in with the live bands i saw skankin’ on stage. later the sound of cds stolen from the college radio station in my first apartment along with the constant clink of beer bottles, and the coffee can of ashes on the back stoop. nervously listening to ani difranco on repeat in the airplane to and from florida. the sound of whatever the high school drop out punks who worked at the coffee shop in baltimore decided to put in the cd player that night. too many cups of one dollar coffee. the summer of house music with spanish guitar and dancing almost every night in the clubs with my friends. the open windows and the smell of the water outside and the mint in my glass. many evenings listenening to my friends spin indie rock, and everything else, and smoking too much in a room with windows that wouldn’t open.
i wonder what this summer will sound like?