I am sitting on my bed, downloading the latest Pink album. An hour later it will happen.
It is two weeks ago. I driving with my friend Jesse in Virginia. He is describing Pink's most recent album. He says that he initially though Pink would be a one-hit wonder.
In ten minutes the album will be downloaded and "So What" will start to play.
It is 2000. I find myself wondering who the hell would listen to someone named Pink.
In thirteen and a half minutes "Sober" replaces "So What." It is the most popular song on the album to date.
It is 2001 and "Get This Party Started" is a hit. I can't stand the damn song, nor the artist.
The album continues to download. I am wondering why the hell I am doing this.
In twenty minutes "Bad Influence" will be playing. It will be my favorite song on this album.
My friend Jesse is still talking while he drives. It is dark out. I am wondering if he sees something in pop music that I am missing.
In 45 minutes I will be listening through most of the songs a second time. The event is almost upon me.
It is 10 minutes ago. On a lark, I decide to download the most recent Pink album, based largely on Jesse's recommendation.
In 55 minutes I will be eating a carrot and humming "Bad Influence." I then realize that I want to listen to it again. I become horrified at this realization and begin experiencing Dr. Manhattan-like flashbacks.
It is still 2001 and a few of my friends are talking. I hear one of them remark, "I really don't feel like listening to someone who's going to have an identity crisis every time she decides to dye her hair a new color."
It is an hour from now. My sense of myself and the universe has lost all cohesion. My mind shatters, my will breaks, my brain feels as if it will implode. At this moment, I will have to admit that I like Pink.
In an hour and ten minutes, I will begin to blog. It will be the first time in several months that I have done so.
It is five days from now, a Sunday. I am going to watch a movie with friends. They tease me mercilessly for all of this.