It’s like, it’s like that time that you were sitting alone at home and were just watching the tv, and you saw that nike ad for the first time, the one where the guy is being chased by the chicken. You know the one, “He cannot fool the chicken; no, wait, he has fooled the chicken.” Or when you were at a friends house drinking beer and playing asshole, the tv on in the background, and the new verizon advert with the guy’s tounge bitten by the weasel plays. Everyone just cracks up, like, “What the hell is going on there?” Yeah, it’s just like that.
Or maybe: you were at a party, and a song comes on that you’ve heard a hundred times on the radio starts blaring over the speakers. It’s that Eminem song that isn’t nearly as good as “The Real Slim Shady,” or that Nelly song that isn’t nearly as good as “Ride With Me.” But regardless of that, you start jerking arythymically to the beat, bumping into your fellow revelers, trying your damn best not to spill your beer. You start to think to yourself, “The booty music was so much better when I was a first-year,” but then you realize you were just drunk and impressionable back then.
Is it like that?
Then maybe it’s like lying down in the field outside town, staring up at the stars. The Moby song, “We are all made of stars” or something like that, pops into your head. You used to like Moby, back when Play came out, having no idea of all the stuff he did before then, but then suddenly he was everywhere and he did that version of “South Side” with Gwen Stafani. I mean, come on, Gwen Stafani? WTF, man? WTF? So anyway, you’re lying on your back and staring up at the sky, and you start to feel a little insignificant and all that crazy cliched stuff you don’t want to think but you always fall into it anyway. You get dismayed by this, don’t you?
Still: you can’t help but think, blissed out listening to your walkman walking to the first day of classes, that no matter what your feeling, this is a moment for a movie to document, and this song should be on the soundtrack right now.
Too bad what you’re listening to is the screams of a guy who’s just had his tounge pierced by a weasel.