The Warm Glow

It's 1:30 a.m. Super Bowl Sunday and I've just shot up a Jag and grabbed another bottle of Leiny. I'm celebrating Step One of implementing the plan that will ultimately lead to my Motorhead/Black Sabbath/Metallica Valentine's Night Alone Beer Blowout. (Editor's note: I don't remember what Step One was or what the plan was - February 14th did end up alone with simply Motorhead and beer and it didn't exactly take a lot of foresight to make that happen.)

Dammit I wanna hear some songs and those two racks of CDs and all those crates of vinyl (mostly still archived anyway) bore me. I wanna hear songs, not collections of songs or sides of songs or song cycles or masterpieces. I'm too lazy to sit in front of the stereo and continually switch between single songs on digital and analog discs. Way too lazy.

So I sit in front of my PC in my ergonomically-correct chair with headphones plugged into the little computer speaker to my right and point and click mp3s to play through my Windows Media player. I'm blowing through "Black Blade" and "Temptation Island" and "You're So Vain" (Faster Pussycat version) and "Sweet Child O'Mine" (Luna cover - if I'm ever dumb enough to get married to the girl of my dreams, this will be the first song spun by the deejay at the dance) and "Luckenbach, Texas" and "Helen Wheels" and "2541" and a bunch bunch more.

This is saving me as a music fan. Songs, not albums. Three, four, five minutes. Just enjoy it, don't think about its meaning or the artist's place in history, just sing along then go on to the next song. It's my own little jukebox and the beer's cheap and I'm writing something about the warm glow of the monitor, though the wit escapes me as I point and click, point and click. This is my new late-night ritual, similar to being in high school and throwing sides of vinyl on in the dark, listening on headphones then also. It seems I've always stayed up too late doing this. It seems this is usually what feels right on these nights.



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