Stephen Mejias

John Vanderslice's "New Zealand Pines" is the very first song I ever mentioned here. It's an interesting choice for a first, and I'm glad I made it.

I wake on this hot and humid Saturday morning, and sit up so that I can see myself in the long mirror which leans against my dusty bedroom wall. I look tired and weak. I look like myself. My hair is an orange mess. I make something of it. I think of shaving it all off.

In the living room, the iMod is silently turning. It's been up all night. I raise the volume on the Trends amplifier, and hear his voice. It sounds good. He's singing something about Golden Gate Park. I sit on the orange couch and listen. What else is there to do?

John Vanderslice's "New Zealand Pines" is the very first song I ever mentioned here, I think to myself. It's an interesting choice for a first, and I'm glad I made it.

It sounds good, but it sounds nothing like it did then.
Of that, I'm sure.

The song ends, perfectly, with that last period