"just try to see in the dark,
just try to make it work,
to feel the fear before you're here.
i make the shapes come much too close,
i pull my eyes out,
hold my breath,
and wait until i shake."
i have far too many memories that the cure triggers, a film's worth really, or possibly a the first half of a novel. for years (and then some) i could not make a mix tape without including one of three songs from the cure. they were never necessarily my favorites, as with the memories, i have far too many favorite cure songs to ever just pick three. yet, it was a certain three that always tapped on my musically-obsessed shoulder and said choose me when i was making mix selections. this song was one of the three.
this morning, in the pre-sun coming up hours, the song recalls a myriad of memories. they flutter by, some in jangly hiccups of images like some dusty film strip rolled out on a cart in a high school classroom. they all collide into each other in non-linear fashion, which honestly is the way my mind often works, random - ever random.
i remember dancing at cloud nine at knott's berry farm, the discounted admission with emptied agree shampoo bottles. we used to buy them on the way and pour out the sticky green liquid into the trash cans before buying our tickets. another memory, my first car over-crowded with friends, conversations overlapping as the music played. mike would make a crack about "the next song will be the cure" because eventually he recognized my three song pattern. i also see the first cure album i procured, on vinyl (as i seemed to have most of their albums on cassette, back then). it was not a traditional album per se, but some kind of collection of singles. it was a birthday present from a girl i barely knew in high school, yet we did spend most of the time in u.s. history class discussing music.