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Show me how you do that thing

I don’t think the Pixies have ever done anything wrong in their lives. I love me some Pixies. It occurred to me driving home from school on Tuesday night that I’m 32 years old and I’m still listening to a lot of the same music I was when I was 17. I don’t know what that means. I would hope that I’m not stagnating. I mean, I’m in love with Coldplay and the Beyonce and I listen to Dave Matthews so much that I’m starting to wonder if I’m pregnant with his baby. And I’m starring with Aqua and DJ Sammy in an x-rated movie set in a women’s prison. But even though I’ve listened to The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” more times than there are bad goth diaries on Diaryland, it just never gets old.

It just keeps making me happy.

And I have “One More Time” queued up on my computer at home and when I listen to it, I’m 16 and Ferris Bueller has just asked me to slow dance with him in front of the whole school.

I hope the early alternative music doesn’t turn into Classic Rock and Michael Stipe is never Eric Clapton and Erasure isn’t Bad Company. Because I just don’t know if I could take it.