Friday, September 7, 2012


Today, as I drove across town on an errand, I heard a song on the radio. Its sound was bigger than its lyrics. It was like a gold box of the finest quality, whose crafters had imagined it filled with beautiful, meaningful things, but whose owners had inexplicably chosen to use it as a repository for a few broken crayons, some candy wrappers and a large brown hair scrunchy.

The tune was the container and the lyrics its contents. It had a driving beat and complex layers of sound that danced and flirted before harmonizing into a beautifully simple symphony that struck the ear as pleasantly as a lover's touch. As I gazed in at the lyrical contents I was sad to find that they were not beautiful or meaningful or worthy. They were not even sufficiently cryptic that I could see in them whatever I wanted to see. They were an utter waste of such a container. I was disappointed.

I don't want to hear that song again.

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