I'd take it to my car dealership's finance office and get an early start on paying down the loan I took out two weeks ago. That'd leave about $8,000 more to go, or about 20 months and one good tax return away from renewed freedom and clarity. The car's name is Karza. I'm told that's Hindi for "debt." Don't get me wrong, I'm happy with it and happier I can get the loan at all, but I miss the three years I spent running around in my old, banged-up, sturdy, reliable and oh-so-paid-off '98 Nissan Sentra. Not having to pay anyone anything at all, that's my piece of the rock, Jack.
(I wrote this before seeing this Metafilter thread on an 80s-music Youtube archive.)
I posted about this a few years ago. I had some idea about a song from every decade, based on the idea that a cross-section of music would be better than a raw list that would risk running in and out of genre and slopping over any barriers of sense and sentiment I might have erected. I'm pretty sure I settled on something from Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On" was a mortal lock for 1971. I think Bobby Womack's "If You Think You're Lonely Now (Wait Until Tonight)" was a lock. Massive Attack's "Unfinished Sympathy" was probably 1991. If I had to guess right now, I'd say PJ Harvey and Thom Yorke's "The Mess We're In" could stand for 2001.
(Involuntary aside: Jonathan Lethem's James Brown profile in the latest issue of Rolling Stone, the one with Eddie Vedder on the cover. I'm chuckling at the whole thing, but I'm nodding my head at the comparison of the Godfather of Soul with Billy Pilgrim. Picture a visionary unstuck in time, a creative force who's lived so long that years become nothing more than arbitary delineations of sonic innovation.)
This question of the day could be a lifetime's work, a good long essay for some or a motherfucking novel. A inquiry time-stretched like a jump-up breakbeat, like one of those days at the heart of "Inherit the Wind."
"You can make art out of anything that's around you. There
are things that cost nothing, things that you find in the street or in
bins, and then it can go the other way. You can make things out of gold
and platinum. I was thinking about death. The other day I was talking
to a friend and saying that when the kids are in bed and I'm reading
them a story, I always imagine it's me lying on the bed, and it's my
deathbed, and they are older and are sat next to me. The roles reverse.
My friend said, 'I never think that.' And I said, 'Fucking hell, am I
No, you're not weird, Damien. Not about the role reversal thing, anyway. Bling is dead.