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So long, Summer. You, like Spring, were weird, but I forgive you. Remember writing all over the walls and the Neil Diamond song and the blond man with the accordian and the day we laughed until we felt sick and the Captain sincerely wanted to kill us? See you next year. People like to give me assignments. A lot of the time I'm assigned things to listen to, never asked whether or not I'm interested, just told matter-of-factly, "I have something for you to hear." Bees tells me the name of a different band that she wants me to listen to each week, and even if it's a band I've already heard, I am to listen again. I was informed via long distance phone call the other night that a recording made on a handheld tape recorder in a basement in Minneapolis is on its way to me. Last night, half asleep on the subway, the Egg pulled his headphones out (really great headphones, with just the right amount of clunk) and reached across Michael to put them on my head. He did this without explanation, and we all sat quietly for the next several stops while I listened to the two songs he played for me. He'd recorded them himself, and they sounded like air and machines, which I guess is all that songs are. They were wonderful. How did I get to this? I guess it was that shuffle just sent me a song that the Egg put on a CD for me once, and it is so great and weird. In conclusion, the songs the Egg likes are generally great and weird, as is he. I'm feeling sort of sideways today. And still in a way that makes other people seem frenzied and disheveled. Maybe it's that Summer took the Amazing Race with it, and it didn't end the way I thought it should. Maybe it's that email that had no content other than contact information and the subject, "you there?" I don't know what to do with that. Can I just respond with, "yes." and be done with the whole thing? No, I guess not.
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