Fatale Abstraction

There are perfect sounds to accompany every time and space. Beautiful clear days that are warm on the cusp of hot are Tom Petty days. Lately it's been shorts & t-shirt weather in Dallas, but the air is dry and slightly crisp, and temperatures drop quickly as the sun dips below the horizon. Days like this were made for Supertramp and ELO, so that's what I'm listening to lately. The sun roof is open, windows are down, I'm howling like a bad karaoke queen, and I couldn't give a shit. I'm going to take the long way home and be the grasshopper that played all summer. Days like this I'm likely to end up in Oklahoma or halfway to Austin. Supertramp sounds clean and beautiful to me, and I listen to it infrequently enough that it never grows tiresome. This music seems full of imminent possibility, rather than the trite dullness of mere sexual conquest or the diminishing returns of a sullied life gone woefully awry.

Could we have kippers for breakfast,
mummy dear, mummy dear?
They've gotta have 'em in Texas, 'cos
everyone's a millionaire.