Seanie, you’re my best and oldest friend, and you know how it is: some days, you don’t choose the music, it chooses you. Doesn’t matter about the screwed up face of the sour old octogenarian in the next cubicle, or the sniggers of the pony-tailed whelp in his washed-clean bandanna and his Slipknot tee. Some days, you just gotta fulfil the need: back to back, both albums, one after the other.
It’s been seventeen years, old friend, since that summer break we spent camped out at your place because your parents had gone to Europe or somesuch for three months and you had the run of the place: French doors open, couple of hundredweights worth of pool salt making the water too acidic to swim in, a diet of nachos and whatever the 7-11 had available… and two brand new CDs on constant rotation, 24 hours a day, for the entire break. Seventeen frigging years! Can you believe it?
Some days, the music chooses you, and Friday morning, at this work I'm forced to attend, surrounded by these people, oh, it was necessary.
It’s been seventeen years, Seanie, and even though I haven’t put them on for years, I still prefer Use Your Illusion II.