Last night, after crossing a couple of more items off the old home renovation punch list that, quite frankly, I am just about ready to fucking burn, I found myself lying on my mostly finished staircase doing my best to not to contemplate my life. I just laid there there, feeling kind of guilty for not having the energy to do just a little bit more, listening to the Best Show on WFMU. And of course, somehow, in this utterly lame moment of my life, I ended up smiling because my friend Stephen had called in and Tom was on a tear about how badass the moment is when Ziggy Stardust turns into Suffragette City.
When I was in high school Sonic Youth’s Dirty made it’s way into my teal Geo Storm’s tape deck and stayed there for almost a year. That tape just played and flipped over and played and flipped over and played: again and again. And I was truly unaware of just how tortured my friends were.
That is until, while innocently choogling along down Ogden Avenue, a friend of mine reached over, ejected the tape and threw it out the window declaring “Enough!”
So last night, in that dark yet dull moment, I couldn’t help but thinking about Song 11. Not about the song itself exactly, but how the sound of it starting has literally burned a whole in my brain.
When all hope is lost, or at least a little bit harder to find, the second this buzzsaw squeals I can still forget just about anything.
I’ve said it before and will no doubt say it again. Calgon take me away!
