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Friday, September 30, 2005

I Don't Care If We Spend The Night At Your Rest Home.

The conversation had turned a touch personal, and was becoming a little heated. The restaurant's jukebox switched, somewhat abruptly, from some hard-driving rock to Prince's "Take Me With U."

We have a VHS tape somewhere of a Freshman-in-High-School version of me, onstage with my big dumb bangs wearing a skinny white tie with a keyboard on it and performing this song on two synthesizers and a drum machine. It's slightly less mortifying in real life than I imagine it. But only slightly. I take some small solace in the fact that the VCR isn't hooked up right now.

Some particularly arch comment was made, and I was half-ignoring it and half-reveling in the memory anyway. "I don't know what you're all talking about," I said. "I'm back in 1984 right now." I bopped my head and mouthed along with the lyrics. Come on and touch the place in me/that's calling out your name...

One of the guys at the table stopped and listened for a second, and then said, "In 1984, I was one year old."

It's official. I've become that old guy, blind with nostalgia. Carry on without me; I'll catch up in a minute.

03:43 PM PST (link)
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