Friday, December 30, 2011

Sixty-Five Today

I was sixteen when I first heard Horses. We were at a party.* Towards midnight, after the requisite playing of Dark Side of the Moon and Morrison Hotel and Sgt Pepper and Zeppelin and Zeppelin and more motherfucking Zeppelin, this girl who had transferred to my high school took my turn at selecting the next album (it was our first date) and put on the album she'd brought with her. That I no longer listen to Patti Smith unless I hear her on the radio nor communicate with the girl who brought the album doesn't alter my self-hagiography that something changed that night.

*His ear lobe fell in the derp.