I can dish it out, but I can't take it

November has become a strange month for me. Two years ago in November, I went on a weekend trip to Florida to visit my grandfather, for what would be our final days together. He was really sick. While my Dad and I were there, we kind of knew it would be the last time. Of course we hoped it wouldn't, and we believed it wouldn't, but we knew it could be.

Last November, when I often flashed back to those last days, it wasn't surprising. It was a big deal (certainly the first time I spent with someone while knowing it was very possible that it would be the last), and it was only a year away. And I'm prone to flashing back on moments, not memories, really, just strange still images of places and feelings. Like a weirdo. But yeah, I'm having it again this year. Maybe I'll have it forever. Who can say? It's not disturbing or unpleasant. It's just kind of strange. Perhaps in a good way.

What this has to do with the following song is debatable. On one hand, nothing at all. But on the other, this album defined last winter for me, and that must count for something. It's everything that I love in a song. I should probably now explain how my favorite songs are either 2 minute perfect pop songs or 7 minute tempo-change epics, but you get the idea. Here's Limousine, from Brand New, which is apparently inspired by a true story of a horrible drunk driving death but is also about 900 other things as far as I can tell. It's glorious — tragic and soaring and heartbreaking and beautiful and so so so November.

mog.com

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