scrolling through someone else's itunes is like reading their mental health chart. "butterfly" by mariah carey makes me cry, he defended himself. pussy, i thought.
i have had this computer for more than a year, yet -- until yesterday -- had not really scrutinized his collection. there were times i was excited to come across something i liked ("no ordinary love" by sade or "it's tricky" by run dmc) but to let the computer randomly play was a hate-crime to my sensitive ear hair. because while i like snoop, i'm not so into coolio. and other things that differentiate me from 23 year old boys.
i am a tosser. i don't keep, collect or horde. i throw everything away. when this laptop finally explodes, i won't lament the lost pieces of writing or the dream journals or the incomplete workout charts. but throwing away someone else's stuff makes me skittish. it's not like he is going to send me a frantic email asking me to send him his "hootie and the blowfish," but it seems like a lot of work went into compiling this library. work that i feel badly about undoing.
lately i've been trying to reignite my lost love of music. high school found me jotting jesus & mary chain lyrics on the phone book, then tracking down cds at broadway records and face the music. i made mixes and mixes and mixes. then i'd harrass my friends "did you like it? did you like it? what did you like? why, why, why?" i'd exchange tapes with an acquaintance whose locker was next to mine and be like, sweeeeet. they might be giants. or i know just how natalie merchant feeeeeels.
by college i had stopped doing this. i lazily began accepting whatever the radio people wanted me to hear.
when i still had a roommate, i used his computer to download songs i heard on "grey's anatomy", "the oc", and "one tree hill." frou frou, deathcab and fallout boy. then i started liking anything zach braff says to like.
then i went to a john mayer concert and wept through "your body is a wonderland" and realized i should probably just suck it up and perform a home appendectomy with a dirty butter knife and dish soap.
so i'm getting serious about the mission again. streaming "the current" and jotting down songs. sampling and downloading and reconfiguring the personality of this laptop's itunes.
erasing this 23-year-old's gangsta rap influences and bringing sexyback.
some of it, i've never heard of: yellowcard, donnell jones, craig david. i kept these for further review. i will discard them today.
some of it, i hit delete so fast and with such glee that i almost poked a hole in my keyboard: jock jams, collective soul, hootie, gloria estevan.
some of it assured me that this child and i will never be able to go on an extended car ride together: there were three or four songs from disney movies.
the worst -- songs from the center street singers. the center street singers, to people who did not graduate from lourdes high school, sashayed around rochester wearing big hair and tulle. holding hands and swaying and sitting on their partner's bent knee. acapella farkle narkle bullshit, then accompanied by the school's zit parade jazz band -- the hi-lighters. they performed in church basements and elementary school gyms and sometimes for actual events. these people made jokes like "she thinks she's a soprano, ha!" while the highlighters' always seemed to be sucking on reeds.
i suspect the previous owner of this laptop wanted to make out with at least one center street singer, but was powerless without a saxophone.
i like to picture him wandering the streets of st. paul, grooving to his ipod and then bursting into an amateur tenor along with their rendition of "bridge over troubled water."
i deleted all of his eric clapton, except "wonderful tonight." but that is just because it was a homecoming theme in 1991. i deleted belinda carlisle despite my feelings for her, just because i have her completed works.
i did not delete g love and the special sauce or iron and wine. in fact, i may download more. they are the only reason i am still talking to this laptop's previous owner.
in other news: last night, for the first time since i was 10, i got a round brush stuck in my hair.
today i got to say: my soul is the braille that you rub.