in the mouth of a desert

I wish I was the kind of person who didn’t get uptight about things. I’m always going so crazy. The ones who say whatever don’t mean whatever. It’s the ones who don’t even bother saying whatever who are living whatever.
I wish I was the kind of person who just liked Pavement.
But you’d get into Sebadoh too, right?
Nup. Just Pavement. Til yesterday I hadn’t even heard them. And instead of going crazy and waking up between dreams at 3:20 to have songs start playing in my head. Or even worse – names : anchower anchower anchower anchower, kunuuny kunuuny kunuuny kunuuny.
Pavement would be cool, but no big deal. I’d probably just listen to them in the car. In the beat up old EH Holden stationwagon that didn’t ever have a tapeplayer. There’d be a crappy one-speaker little radio-tapeplayer lying on the seat but the plastic cover on the back is lost so the double-D batteries would roll around on the floor. Someone I’d know would keep shoplifting new packs for me although I never asked for them.
I wouldn’t be worried about oil running out or be thinking about My Disaster Plan for when the oil runs out.

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