I’m listening to a mega mix on Sarah’s computer right now.

Hendrix, Rage Against The Machine, Michael Penn, Jewel, Linkin Park,Goldfinger, Eric Clapton, Nena, the BeeGees, The Toasters, the Supertones, Shaggy, The Insyderz, Lenny Kravitz, the Bangles, Ben Folds Five, Leonard Cohen, the Beatles.

Very nice.

A short impromptu story:

So, I knew this kid. He loved to listen to his Walkman all freakin’ day. Just sitting there bobbing his head, dum dum dum dum dum dum dum just like that for hours on end. It could get really annoying. I don’t know how he kept a brain cell alive long enough to turn the thing on every morning. So anyways this kid is sitting in the library at school and he’s got a juice box in one hand and a Music Appreciation textbook in the other. Obviously he’s appreciating some form of music without the assistance of the book. It’s more a prop than anything at this point. I’m sitting a few yards away just staring. I could almost hear something blaring out from his headphones “Rocky mountain hiiiiiiiiiigh!” or something like that. Absolutely no concept of modern music did this kid have. So anyways, he’s sitting there bopping his head to John Denver like it’s nobody’s business. He’s goin at it harder and harder, and the book slips out of his hand. Bang! Flat on the desk. Doesn’t faze him. Goes right on bopping. If his head was hollow (it’s a possibility) he could’ve mixed martinis for everyone in it. So anyways, the book drops and he keeps on going, harder! Denver’s crooning away in that same lonely pace and bopboy is cruising like a pimp in a new Lincoln. Finally, he stands up and just lets loose with his best moves. This kid could’ve stopped the show at a Britney Spears concert. I can hear Johnny boy louder now: “ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIIIIIGH!” suddenly something gives and a half a liter of orange “drink” applies itself to every surface in a ten foot radius of Kid Charlemagne. The song ends and he collapses, sopping wet, into his chair. He turns and looks at me. Me! Why me, what did I do? There were at least six other people in the room to pick on and he looks at me! So anyways, he stares me straght in the face and says, “what the hell are you looking at?”

How do you respond to that?

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