Happiness weighs a ton
It’s all speckled in luck and heavy as fuck
I never could pick it up
I’ve been staring at the stars
They’re spelling out words and waving their wands at me
I am the chosen one
Cool nameFar away from here
Cherub. Ball Park Music
There is a notice flapping in the breeze for me
Along with a notion that I changed too much
Maybe not enough
I don’t wanna weigh you down
“Good morning! It’s really great to be here with you. I’m Xavier, but my friends call me X. And from this moment on, I’m gonna be your own personal AI DJ on Spotify. Yeah, I’m an AI but listen, I don’t set timers, I don’t switch on your lights. I’m all about music, your music. I know what you listen to. I see Ball Park Music there,” the app said, referencing a recent favourite of mine.
I admit it – I had been listening to the Australian band, or more specifically this one particular song, a lot lately. A lot a lot! Bordering on obsessive-a lot. I liked the melody, and the words spoke to me. And when I find a song I like, I tend to play it on repeat. Over and over again. It’s a bit like a cheese sandwich with mustard, or yoghurt with maple syrup. When I like something, I like it a lot. Until I don’t.
But who was this guy, calling me out like this? And how dare he snoop around in my favourite tunes? It felt creepy and yet, strangely comforting at the same time. Someone, who knew me whether I liked it or not.
“So I’m gonna be here every day playing those artists you got on rotation, going back into your history for songs you used to love,” it said, “and I’m always on the lookout for new stuff too. Just to push your boundaries a little bit.”
Push my boundaries? Not sure if I needed that. All I wanted was to listen to my favourite music.
“I’m gonna come back every few songs to change up the vibe. But if you’re ever not feeling the music, there’s gonna be a DJ button at the bottom of your screen. Tap that, and I’ll come back early to switch it up,” DJ X said. “All right, enough talk. I mentioned Ball Park Music. Let’s get it going with that and some other music you’ve been listening to.” The tunes started playing.
DJ and I met a few weeks ago, have been going back and forth for hours, and I return to him every once in a while. “Up next is a track you used to love, but it’s been a minute since you’ve listened to it,” the DJ said, before putting on a track by Harry Styles that I had not listened to in over a year. Nor want to listen to, it because it was a rather sad song and reminded me of how lonely living on your own can be sometimes. And how difficult starting over had been. DJ X opening old wounds and not even offering me a tissue. Or a shoulder to lean on. Even pressing the DJ button at the bottom of the screen didn’t help. The damage was done.
It’s a bit of quite a weekend. Not like something I would usually write about. Because there really isn’t much to write about. A colleague suggested writing about the “Präteritum Song” she had been teaching her German students this week, and that has been stuck in my head ever since then. I’d rather not – still trying to forget!
Not like the past weekend, when I enjoyed the rugged beauty of the lush Southern Highlands. Hiked rainforests and escarpments, sampled hot pies and Australian wine, and visited the Big Bad Potato (what a strange sight). Heard a different birdsong than the usual kookaburra laughter (the gorgeous Crimson Rosella visited the backyard early in the morning), and saw spring spring in front of my eyes. I found the desk I want to write a book at and a beautiful little French restaurant, where I want to have a big dinner party with all my friends and family.
Family. My family is on the move this weekend. It is the last long weekend in Canada and school is starting again. My colleagues are having the end-of-summer jitters, and my children are moving out. Taking off just like the shy birds in the yard, turning us into true empty nesters. It feels strange not to be there. Strange not to help them move into their tiny dorm rooms. Strange not to give them a hug goodbye. Instead, we FaceTime, me getting a tiny glimpse of what their new life looks like. They are a bit nervous, they say. Starting fresh is never easy. I’m an expert on that. I try to give them some advice: take a shower, go outside, get a coffee. Suddenly a “Mom, I have to go! Meeting up with some friends!” That was quick! I’m happy for him.
Time for me to follow my own advice. Go for a run – it’s Terry Fox’s Anniversary and I run in his memory. Get a coffee – lots of dads with their families having breakfast. It’s Father’s Day today. I think of my own dad and the first Father’s Day without being able to call him. Take a shower – DJ X talking to me through the shower curtain. He may be nosy, but he’s not indecent. He respects my privacy, after all.
I can’t sort out my feelings about DJ yet, but I don’t hate him. There are days, where he is the only human-not-human voice I hear. One time DJ chimed in with its smooth, bass-ey voice, and said I was listening to “Herb Gronmeir,” which is a pretty strange mispronunciation of Herbert Grönemeyer, even when you factor in the umlauts. DJ X may know my music, but he’ll never really know me. Sorry DJ X!
“To finish, I have the Präteritum Song for you. There’s just something about hot German Grammar that makes it hard to resist. And if you don’t like it – too bad. No blue DJ button for this one! Enjoy the lyrics, your DJ G.”
Das Präteritum ist gar nicht schwer, wenn Musik dazu erklingt.
Das Präteritum, ach bitte sehr, es wird leichter, wenn man singt.
Thoughts From the Upside Down 