Usually my public transportation commute is unremarkable, as the Rapid is generally crowded with other souls who work banking hours and kids on the way to school, but yesterday was consistently entertaining, with the three teenage girls from the hood affecting convincingly posh British accents no doubt acquired during 10th grad English earlier that day, advising each other on the etiquette of a proper prom date and making snarky jokes about each other's mums riding the mechanical bull at Cadillac Ranch.
Not to mention disco-dancing middle-aged crackers with their CD walkmans and the Honduran couple watching the music video for "Whoomp! There it is" on the guy's phone so everyone can hear it.
It's getting warm in my fair city and it's starting to prematurely come alive once more in all of its absurd glory.
Yesterday was the first day in this new year when it was almost warm enough to roll down my windows and listen to music again, even if the heat is turned up as well. Hoodie weather is a beautiful thing and I can't wait until the days get longer and I can dig my bike out of the basement and wander the streets of Cleveland and the dirty shores of Lake Erie.
This isn't Stravinsky, but the anarchic spirit and emotion are there in homage, and even though my little sister isn't into anything with loud guitars and ragged vocals, being a Millenial Indie Kid, she's stolen the t-shirt with the above design from me multiple times. The music majors I know are disappointed when I explain that it has nothing to do with Igor and everything to do with an unhinged one-album punk band including two future members of Fugazi.