I remember Samantha and Mason picking me up in Alameda when we were all still in high school and we'd drive around Novato, going to Double Rainbow because it was the only place in town where you could get vegan soy ice cream. Samantha would drive, because Maygay and I never learned (and still do not know). There is one afternoon in particular which really stands out because it was when Mirah's second album Advisory Committee came out. Mason had been talking about it nonstop but I hadn't heard it yet and as we drove through the insanely pretty hills of the north bay I got super emotional in the backseat of Samantha's Honda (the Honda with a bumper sticker that said "I ♥ Appaloosa Butts" -- coolest girl in the world). I think by this point we were almost 18 and had tried, to Maygay's horror, Clove cigarettes. So, djarums may have been involved in this emotional memory but I am remembering the sun and listening to that record for the first time and being really into the phrase: "You don't have to wait until you die".
Mirah was (is) right-on about that.
These are the really amazing pancakes that Ptrick made for brunch on Sunday. Gourmaay.
You don't have to wait until you die. You don't have to wait at all. And you don't have to die.
It just seems clear. It feels like "Oh Yeah". It reveals itself. It's OBVIOUS.
That part, yeah yeah yeah right there don't move. The face you're making at this exact moment, when your eyebrows are a tiny little bit furrowed, like you have an idea but you don't know if you want to say it out loud? The quick, quiet intake of breath like you're getting ready to say something but haven't thought it through yet?
This is familiar. Not cause it reminds me of anything else but because if gives me a familiar feeling. And the familiar feeling is one of knowing the song the DJ is playing, a song that comes on the stereo in your friend's car when you're driving around slurping frozen mint chocolate chip soy iced cream, you recognize the song even though you're only hearing it for the first time, and the feeling is that you know, then that it is a song you really like.
Hey check out this really awesome prize I won.
This, I have decided, is magickal glue. I know exactly what I'm doing to do with it. But it's the type of situation where a magician (witch) can't reveal his secrets, where if I talk about it it will jinx it, where I don't want to spoil the surprise. But I know where it's going. The different sides also make me start thinking of Split Singles.
Like, you know. Sharing a record. We'd each get a side, but would be complementary. Maybe we've been pen pals for a long time. Maybe we'll tour the West Coast in a van, play Gilman St., bicker in the backseat and share skittles in the long stretch of farm highway between Bakersfield and Los Angeles for our final night of tour and maybe we'll have something to show the kids who show up, maybe it'll be something familiar, recognizable, something on our bodies that anyone could do.
Wanna hold mine up to yours.
Last night, Bratmobile's song on this record came on in the bar. And today the Heavens to Betsy one is pretty apt because My Secret Really Is True.