Zapp & Roger - All the Greatest Hits - Computer Love
[ soul train ]
[ zeal ]
Leave it to find it, rather leave it to allow for the finding whether you find it or it finds you. Like when you lose your keys and you end up looking around as if the things you had planned no longer exist, well they don’t because they are just plans, and you didn’t plan on losing your keys but there you are in a reality that you didn’t plan, and most likely throughout the entire experience the keys were right in front of your face, right where you left them and you told yourself as you set them down, “weird I never set my keys here, but I’ll remember specifically because of that.” knowing all too well that the last time you did that you ended up freaking out about where you had placed them, and now here you are again or the last place was the first place you put them because you had already found them and put them in your coat pocket that you’re wearing, because you thought you were ready to go and then you just had to go make sure that the stove and the lights were off and then you thought of something else that you had to do before you left, which required you to take of your coat because you were going to be a minute, so the keys you had already found just got lost, and you began to sift through your mind trying to figure out what it was you were just about to do, why did you take your coat off? it was something important, so you put the coat back on for second so as to back track because sometimes that helps you and you figure it out and realize that it can wait and that you’re now running late so you gotta get the fuck out of there, but now where the fuck are your keys. shit this again. so you begin to look around and get all hot because well your coat is back on and that has a tendency to keep the temperature rising and so does the fact that you’re upset that you have just misplaced your keys, so you start in the bedroom because maybe you put them on the nightstand or maybe for some stupid fucking reason you put them somewhere on the bed because last night when you went to lay down for just a few minutes and ended up passing out for the rest of the night you had all of your clothes on which maybe meant that the keys were with you. then you check the pile of clothes in the bathroom, because when you came in from another mind melting day of meetings and traffic jams and long lines at wherever you needed shorter lines to be, specifically the bathroom, and maybe just maybe the keys were set on the shelf where you set them sometimes after a late night. nope no keys. the office probably wouldn’t have them because you haven’t made time in your busy fucking schedule to schedule some “you” time and because “you” time usually results in creating a things to do list that readdresses shit you haven’t had time to do in months along with an addition of things that you laugh at when you write down because you know that in a few months you’ll be writing them on a fresh sheet of paper that will serve as your “new” list of things to do. your office is a shitty mess and there is no way, oh wait what do we have here… nope not the right keys. but they were hers and so now you dip into a stream of thought as you feel the bumps on the shaped side of the keys with your thumb, a quick day dream about how cool she was, cool in a different way, cool in a way that when you both kissed for the first time after almost a decade of knowing each other you both were like holy shit that was awesome and how did we end up just doing that? oh wait is shit weird now? fuck because i feel weird now and she reassures you that shit isn’t weird and it doesn’t have to be, but that kiss definitely isn’t going to happen again, but every time you see each other after that you feel like you both think about that again and wonder if she is thinking or feeling that same feeling at that same moment, because she has to be right? and then you’re like fuck it, i still think that shit was weird, but damn it was so nice, and then… yeah the keys get the fuck out of here. so you say fuck it, one more time, only this time aloud as a way to coach yourself as you put your coat back on. and then one more time as you decide that not locking your door was okay because you live in a building that requires more than one key to get in and you don’t need to worry about anyone coming in, because well you don’t and so as you shut the door, right after you spend an added 8 minutes trying to figure out boots or shoes? boots or shoes? boots. yes. eh, no. shoes. yeah def shoes. nah boots. boots. it’s cold and they keep your toes warm. k out. and then out of habit just as you lace up, adjust your pants, because when you bend to lace up your shoes your pants fall a little, regardless of belt or the pants, then you do the routine of padding yourself down like the priest in the joke that your father loves to tell to your friends, the ones he is convinced he has never met, when they come over for dinner, and then they still laugh even though they have heard it before, it’s just that they love how animated he is and his accent helps and his laughing at his own joke helps and his unnecessary explanation helps, it’s different than the proverbial “you get it? you get it?” because it’s your dad. —- Cell phone, wallet, keys. a pad around for the cell phone. back pocket. check. wallet. that’s easy, back pocket. check. keys… and usually the carabiner, the one you got your first year of college where you learned how to binge drink, the place where you also learned how to prioritize your absences, the same place where you learned that people are people and not just men or women hungry in a way that has others pointing fingers at dirty minds, sometimes people just want to fuck, sometime people don’t want to fuck, some prefer looking for that other shit, a ton of them lie about it, and many more misinterpret it, because you watched as pussy and dicks wander from room to room in search of satisfying the warm rush of blood, easily mistaken repeatedly for love, the place where you’re reminded that as we put it at the smart museum the other night, love does not equal love, just like lust does not equal love, just like when someone says they love you and you think they mean it you realize that maybe you don’t love them, but they don’t know yet, and well maybe you love them… that carabiner that you learned how to open beers with that has been so over-used that its function of keeping your keys on the loop no longer works, in a way that makes you think you should just get a new one, in a way that nostalgia convinces you to smile and hang on to just a little longer, and it’s not on your belt loop. front pants pockets. nope. coat pocket… mother fucker. you laugh. shake your head. lock the door. throw you shades on. hook the keys to your belt loop and proceed to enter the outside. As you walk, happy to have found your keys and as the the sun blows warm light particle smooches onto the skin right below the shades on your cheeks you think to yourself about how not everything you’ve misplaced has been found. and how nice that would be if some of those things popped out of nowhere right about now. it would be great to be holding her hand right about now. she was good at that. Then you tell yourself to breathe. So you do until you forget that you’re breathing.