The song I woke up singing today was Beck’s “Loser.”
You can’t write if you can’t relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax fallin’ on a termite
who’s chokin’ on the splinters
This is really apropos of nothing, but interesting considering summer is doing something to me. I don’t want to sleep, I don’t want to put products in my hair or blowdry it, I don’t want to wear clothes. I want to spend all my time semi-clothed with flat hippy hair reading Ray Bradbury, listening to 80s Hair Metal and planning the next BBQ I will attend.
Instead me and my coiffed hair will attend meetings where all the attendees will be dressed. There will be nary a brat or vat of potato salad in sight. But, if I’m lucky, I might get them to sing “Talk Dirty to Me.”