When: 8 January 2005
Where: Devil’s Gate
Who: My father
Weather: Cold, raining
If the playlist of my life were divided year by year, 2005 would probably be my favorite of the bunch. While shorter and darker than most of the other years, it flows in a way most other years don’t. Suddenly my memories have consistent themes, much of the music is very similar, and it’s almost as if the whole year is one long story. In a unique way, it is, but it’s not all my doing.
2005 was a year of raw sexuality in music, be it the ridiculousness of the Pussycat Dolls, the charming rape-rock of She Wants Revenge, or this. It was also a year of melancholy and spirituality, but not yet and not here.
In California, in 2005, it rained for two months. The last time that happened, they had to channelize the Los Angeles River in concrete. It was happening again, and my dad took me to the Devil’s Gate Reservoir to see the massive waterfall in our own backyard. But my mind was on something else: Alex, my Barnhart crush, still haunted me. And perhaps I was going mad from being indoors for weeks on end, certainly it showed in other ways, but at that moment, I was determined to ruin any chance I had of even being friends with her.
Next: Twee N’ Things