Songs for Afterhours

It is true. I am still alive. All vital sings: normal. The Electroencephalogram shows a slight mental disturbances: insomnia, anger and...heartbreak? And why wouldn't it. It is 2:17 a.m. and as I lay I watch the headlights of the passing cars cast strange shadows through the blinds of my westward facing window. Spirals of light. Among all of the flashing images and thoughts that are keeping me awake she is there. She is getting married soon. Do I care? Perhaps. Another thought: she got married. DID I care? Maybe. If only I could use a machine to measure how serious I was about the girl of my past and of the girl of my future I would be able to assess the situation insightfully. She got away, I let her go, that is that. The other will be getting away, I will be letting her go, that will be that.

Maybe being awake is not so bad. Some say sleep is overrated. This is my time. I thrive in the dark. I feed off the silence and stillness of the night. My senses are more acute. I put on my earbuds, turn on the iPod...Jeff Buckley? I'm obsessed. Wilco, very suiting. Yo-Yo Ma plays Enio Morricone, too dramatic. I can transport myself, as if in a time/place machine, with "Pictures of You", "Last Goodbye", "Mania Cardiaca", and practice my air drumming (on my back) with Michel Camilo. Nothing erases the thoughts of them. I think them. Every second unearths a new memory I thought was successfully suppressed. Fail. I am impervious to them now and conclude they will be the past soon enough. "In My Place" brings me back to the present where the lights keep spiraling, teasing, accompanying me through this seemingly endless night. I am at peace. "That's All I Ask" sends me into literal euphoria and at the climax of my emotions I begin to dream. Silence. Peace. Sleep.

J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)

San Diego

11.04