Last night I was JD Rockefeller but the Latino version. Endowing the arts, buying kalimotxos, schmoozing Argentine musicians, spinning women and hailing cabs on a winterlike eve.
Today I have $9.99. And perhaps more pertinently limited bandwidth, limited patience, fits of anxiety and tremoring hands. I tried to shred it off in two foot onshore slop but when I started snapping on 12 year olds having the time of their lives, my session was over.
The wheels of my car are not round. They whhhhrrrr and whhhzzzzzz in a cyclic tempo as I imagine they scrape the edges of their open caliper. I procured a stack of bricks from my neighbor’s yard while the bull terrier was not watching. Simply locating the jack and I had already broken a sweat. Up the front driver’s side wheel ascended and then I stacked bricks under what appeared to be a substantial enough piece of chassis to support the cars weight while I jacked up the back. It was thoughtless and uneccesary and risky and in this moment directly after – I have found satisfaction. Enough fulfillment that I’m now prepared to replenish lost fluids and am about to make a purchase on the Internet because today I have $9.99.
My most salient memory of last night was remarkably the drive home. You see normally I’m blacked out at this point on a Friday, and given that I have no evidence of coming home other than my car in the driveway, I probably was. But the memory of ((Sounder)) is still playing in my head. It’s beaten down and apathetic. It’s harmonious and the lyrics bring a perverse smile to my face as I hummed them this morning in bed. I know nothing about ((Sounder)) and neither does the Internet. Google’ing yielded nada. I do not know if they have more than the two albums on my phone. I do not believe they have ever enjoyed radio playtime. I just went on iTunes and learned they indeed have more than two albums. Five in fact. I’m shopping like I do for wine: purely on the quality of artwork on the label. And ive chosen the “Howlingest Call” purely ’cause the cover is fucking sick. I want to print it on a poster and put it on my living room wall. And this moment I am now downloading it. In a legitimate grown-up purchasing type way. Then I will test drive my car’s rotated tire performance. Perhaps the whrzzing will have subsided marginally and give my scattered demeanor some calm. Then I will go to white-bread suburbia and push a trolley towards food that makes tender heads throb less and suicidal gastronomies settle. And I will hum some ((Sounder)) strolling down the aisle perving on moms.
I bet you thought I was gonna spend $9.99 on Cluster, huh? Maybe next time I get fucked up the night before and once I have purchased ((Sounder))’s entire catalog.
When the timing is right,
— C.S. Louis