"Music Is My Aeroplane..."-RHCP

Dress shirt?

Check.

Socks and underwear?

Check.

Music?

Crap! I forgot to fill the iPod!

There's a rush and a scurry, and I'm not really sure why. I'm not leaving for Prescott until Monday. The memorial service is Tuesday. Nonetheless I'm little white wheel-mouse over not having enough music for a road trip. Call me futility.

I have satellite radio in the car. You think that would be enough, but no. In the old day's MyUnwife and I used to carry a grocery sack of CDs. The last time we did that, some lucky Vegas bellboy made off with that sack and our camera.

What you pack for Vegas, stays in Vegas.

MyUnwife used to tolerate my musical eccentricities. I think she knew that was one of those things. I'd spend the week before a trip plotting songs I might want to hear on the way. Towards the end, MyUnwife got pretty good at making sure to check the list for stuff she wanted to hear. She also got used to handling the superfluous stuff like sundries, shoes, and suitcases.

Now it's much easier. Click and drag, and I'm all good. Still need the suitcases though.

Last week I ripped tracks from some of my old discs; preparing for the funeral. I found that MyUnwife had stolen some of my music. Not as in she slipped a disc in her purse and ran off. More like there's stuff I can't listen to anymore. Disc that dare me to press play. I know I've discussed a few of these things, but this week I happened across a few that I would never have suspected.

The Cars first LP. I got that in grade school. By junior high, it was on heavy rotation. I still have the record but it's so crackly with over-use that even the Rice Krispy guys complain about the extra noise. Ok that was stupid. Sorry, I'm just upset.

I used to love the song, "Moving in stereo." Especially the way it flowed into the last track, "All mixed up." It's the perfect segue. It's so good, you don't listen to one song without the other. It's like, "We Will Rock You/We Are The Champions," you don't do it. You might as well cut the guitar solo out of "Freebird." The segue was so tight, it made me want to be a DJ so that I could blend music like that.

I tried playing it. I can't. Every time I hear it now I think of MyUnwife singing "Except for my shoes." Her and her shoes. Figures I'd remember that line in reference to my own Imelda Marcos. It's simple it's stupid, and it's her way of stealing my music. She sang! Not well, but that didn't matter, her voice covers my favorite songs, and not even a corkscrew can pull it out of my head.

She took other things too. She took the Motley Crue, but that was no great loss. I'll find a way to live without "The Looks That Kill." I kind of wish she'd grabbed the Bon Jovi while she was in there, but we only made fun of them anyway. I can still listen to them if I want.

If I want.

Jewel is persona non grata since MyUnwife moved out. Ok, not Jewel personally, she can come over any time she wants, she just can't bring her guitar, and no singing. Especially not that song. You know the one. She can read from her book of poetry while feeding me grapes though.

I'll allow that.

It's awful the way music attaches to people and events though.

I knew a woman who said she couldn't listen to Stone Temple Pilots anymore because of her grandmother's funeral. The song "Dead and Bloated," played to a less than subtle reality. I'm not sure if she gave up the whole band, or just the song, but either way, it seems like a loss.

Why do we feel the need to sacrifice treasures to memories like offerings on an alter? I don't remember God ever asking for songs, movies, or mental trinkets. Yet we still slaughter them and toss them on the flames, praying for their delivery, praying for his blessing, praying for our freedom, praying to silence the ghosts in our heads.

My head.

I want to give you an answer. I'd love to make a cute quip, slap it on as a band-aid and be done with it, but I'm bloated and floating here too. So many questions, so much music. So much loss.

I'm sorting my songs, and now I need a new stack: stuff she took. It's not fair. I loved a lot of these before she came. There are other's I get to keep. I managed to wrestle the old Cult tracks out of her memory's grasp. Good thing, I could use a "Love Removal Machine" about now, and it's a perfectly good road track. That's one point for the home team.