I’m not proud to say I watched this, but…Anyone watch that “Hit Me Baby One More Time” show last night? Basically, it takes washed up artists and has them come back and do their hit and then a current pop hit. Finally the audience votes on the winner. Arrested Development landed the big prize and decidedly so. They did a rendition of that song “How Far is Heaven” that I thought was great. I was also happy to see their spiritual advisor is still making his way around the world with the band. Maybe I’m partial in my judgment of how great they are because I actually met Speech once and really liked him.
As a side note, Tiffany still has quit a rack.
So this morning I woke up with the cloud of depression hanging over me. Honestly, it has been creeping up on me for days. Yesterday I hid from the world as best I could. Sometimes you just have to sort through things yourself and I was definitely at that point. So today, of all things to help me get a handle on things, my car stereo was making me a mix. I had it on random and out of the dozens of albums worth of mp3s it could have played, it was picking the exact songs for me.
The most poignant moment for me was when I drove by a beautiful field of wild flowers. Then…I noticed the sign. “Luxury Office Condos Coming December 2005.” It was just starting to sink in that this beautiful field of wildflowers would be an office condo complex before the year was out. Instead of playing host to the sun happy flowers that make our oxygen, it would instead become the new home away from home for hundreds of miserable yuppies who hate their job. I have become said yuppie. Then the wise stereo played “No Suprises” by Radiohead.
The funny thing is not 5 minutes later I was in line at Starbucks. I appreciate the irony of this. Of course, I NEVER go to Starbucks. I just needed a coffee fix fast, because the usual organic awakening wasn’t happening. Despite never going there, they somehow elected to write my name “Jon” on the cup. How they knew I was a “no H” Jon is beyond me. As I was standing there waiting for my drink, I began to notice that through all the corporate planning that went into the place, it did still have a genuine hint of the coffee shops in Seattle. Despite Kenny G’s influence, there was a glimmer of King county and rainy days and the spirit that made the chronically depressed produce great music.
As I got back into my yuppie box to finish my commute, what pops onto the stereo but “Heart-Shaped Box” by Nirvana. For a second, I contemplated making the journey that scared me so much when I was 18. Back then, I wanted to move to Seattle and play bass in a grunge band. Now grunge is dead, I’m almost 30 and despite owning one for years, my bass skills would hardly qualify me for a slot in a local middle school punk band. So much for the dream I guess.
She eyes me like a Pisces.
As a side note, Tiffany still has quit a rack.
So this morning I woke up with the cloud of depression hanging over me. Honestly, it has been creeping up on me for days. Yesterday I hid from the world as best I could. Sometimes you just have to sort through things yourself and I was definitely at that point. So today, of all things to help me get a handle on things, my car stereo was making me a mix. I had it on random and out of the dozens of albums worth of mp3s it could have played, it was picking the exact songs for me.
The most poignant moment for me was when I drove by a beautiful field of wild flowers. Then…I noticed the sign. “Luxury Office Condos Coming December 2005.” It was just starting to sink in that this beautiful field of wildflowers would be an office condo complex before the year was out. Instead of playing host to the sun happy flowers that make our oxygen, it would instead become the new home away from home for hundreds of miserable yuppies who hate their job. I have become said yuppie. Then the wise stereo played “No Suprises” by Radiohead.
The funny thing is not 5 minutes later I was in line at Starbucks. I appreciate the irony of this. Of course, I NEVER go to Starbucks. I just needed a coffee fix fast, because the usual organic awakening wasn’t happening. Despite never going there, they somehow elected to write my name “Jon” on the cup. How they knew I was a “no H” Jon is beyond me. As I was standing there waiting for my drink, I began to notice that through all the corporate planning that went into the place, it did still have a genuine hint of the coffee shops in Seattle. Despite Kenny G’s influence, there was a glimmer of King county and rainy days and the spirit that made the chronically depressed produce great music.
As I got back into my yuppie box to finish my commute, what pops onto the stereo but “Heart-Shaped Box” by Nirvana. For a second, I contemplated making the journey that scared me so much when I was 18. Back then, I wanted to move to Seattle and play bass in a grunge band. Now grunge is dead, I’m almost 30 and despite owning one for years, my bass skills would hardly qualify me for a slot in a local middle school punk band. So much for the dream I guess.
She eyes me like a Pisces.
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