Wednesday, January 27, 2010

I'm currently in love with soundtracks.

Sometimes, I walk and I imagine what song would play that scene. I sit and smoke and a song would play in my head. I picture myself in the shoes of the characters I watch and admire and abhor, and choke on the words as I try to sing and inhale and cram them down every crevice--in my mouth, the cracks of my chapped lips, the folds of my ear lobes, and the hammering bones inside my head.

I'm in love with The Temper Trap's "Sweet Disposition". I see myself standing under the glare of the midday sun when I listen to it. I see myself in the middle of a crowded, jammed crossing as I look up. The roaring cacophony of bleeting vehicles and their dagger-tongued owners cursing in their heatstroke-induced insanity. I smile and lift my hands at them, glorifying their obscenities with an obscenity of my own. I offhandedly flick booger at them. What a happy scene. Oblivious.

I'm in love with Regina Spektor's "Us". I imagine myself walking through a tree-lined path when I hear it. I can feel my dog's leash in my left hand, and a melting ice cream on the right. Leaves shuffle under my feet, alive even as they fade into brown and then earth. I see people smile. For some reason, they become contagious. I start to run. I trip and I fall on grass. I fall just short of a shy bud, almost in bloom. She smiles at me. Her cheeks are ridiculously plush. Peppy.

I'm in love with The Smith's "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want". Slumped at the back of the bus, tired, musing. It's almost dawn. I reek of beer. My body is tired and sore, but my solar plexus feels good, warm. I still hear the jokes of the past few hours. Passengers come and go. I hear the laughter in my head, and I laugh with them. I remember the girl I've been pining on all night. I delete my friend's message on my phone, spanning 3 text messages, detailing how he scored with the girl I've been pining on all night, and how many times, and how they're about to go at it for the umpteenth time plus one. I'll let you sum this one up.

I'm in love with soundtracks.
I wish I had my own.

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