I felt tired for most of the shift. Thoughts of taking the day off, or the week, that I should, flitted through my head. There was a sense of not being up to the task: the work itself and morally. I felt weak.
Things picked up however, as they tend to do. I spoke to a few people, I got through some difficult tasks.
Music was playing throughout the shift. In the morning it was something new. My thought was: this must be 90s alt-rock or -country, Wilco-like but not Wilco. I thought of my old boss, that I needed him to identify these bands for me. Later on there was a genre shift (not exactly in decade, though the next one, the one of my childhood, 2000-2009, R. I P., showed up): we found ourselves among the stars, bombarded with hits.
What were these hits, you ask me? Eh bien, je vais vous les dire.
“Soak Up the Sun” by Sheryl Crow (2002), — I played the song on Apple Music, reading the lyrics as the song played, when I got home. A smile.
“Hollaback Girl” by Gwen Stefani (2004). My shit… my shit… my shit… I was smiling, trying not to laugh.
“Ride Wit Me (feat. City Spud)” by Nelly. Country Grammar. I (or was it my dad) had this album, the CD, when I was a kid. I remember being impressed by the cover, Nelly and the Arch, the look, the chain and the tattoo.
Et puis ?
This is especially funny, I was smiling as if it was being played for me, as if someone had put it on with me in mind, knowing that I had secretly loved it when I was eleven years old: “Just the Girl” by the Click Five.
When I was a kid, middle school age, the early part at least, sixth and seventh grade (2005–6, disons), I would put on VH1 and MTV, watch and rewatch music videos, generally pop-rock I suppose, whatever was on.
I remember in particular the videos for “Sugar We’re Goin’ Down” by Fall Out Boy, —the antler boy, he’s wearing a vest, isn’t he?, the little romance, the jealous père with his rifle, in any case I think it’s that—, three or four (or five, could be) from My Chemical Romance (the names? let’s see: “Helena” —in my mind it all comes back—, “Ghost of You” —Gerard yelling, screaming to a comrade in arms—, (My reflections were just interrupted by Dave Grohl and his Foo Fighters, Dave howling again and again, encore et encore: The best! The best! The best! The best! The best! The best! and so on)…
Assez. I’ll keep my paragraphs short here. My Chemical Romance was big, surely that’s no news to you, you who read these words now. I remember a boy at school, Joe I’ll call him, who I knew played guitar (like me; but how did I know?), and I remember seeing him one day (and then, natürlich, many other days after that) wearing a black hoodie, one of the MCR logos demanding my attention on the front. Anywho.
I’ll end this essai with laughter.
Some good time into this whole nostalgia trip, (for me at least, in my head), the beginning of something, the strumming of electric guitar chords, something inexplicably funny, woke me up.
Dugh-dugh-dugh—Look at this photograph! Every time I see ‘t makes me laugh! […] Dugh-dugh-dugh. This is where I went to school! […] Dugh-dugh-dugh-dugh-dugh-dugh-dugh-dugh-dugh…
Etc. etc.
The boss cut it off.
Gray Haskins 