I found this particular album and have been listening to it for the first time in years.
It reminds me of when Jon and I were dating 12 years ago now, when we looked like this:
Funny thing is, this album was released in 1994! So I've been listening to an album that is now 20+ years old, thinking of how I listened to it 12 years ago, and feeling like it would still do okay today on the radio. Kudos, Portishead. Way to stand the test of time.
Getting old fucks with your head.
I remember listening to "Sour Times" while hanging out with friends, smoking pot, scalping tickets off people who were surely crack dealers for Cubs' games, going to bars that were open until 4am and eating breakfast at greasy diners at 1pm because that's what all the young kids did at the turn of the century before texting and Twitter and Mark Zuckerberg was all of 17 years old.
Getting old really fucks with your mind.
My friend Sarah and I used to go to this breakfast place where you'd design your own juice and everything was decorated with kitsch and yet minimalist at the same time, then go to the consignment shops and listen to Bjork because you were way too cool for Urban Outfitters.
It was 2002 (or was it 2003?) and that's what you did.
Or Jon and I would go to Frontera grill and drink too much tequila during the two hour wait for a table and then we'd have more margaritas during dinner and by the time we got out of the cab home I'd have to take off my heels so I could walk.
Sometimes we'd go to "work" which consisted of waiting tables at a mafia owned Italian restaurant which was a front for their illegal dealings. Yow knew shit was going down when all the black Cadillacs pulled up into the alley, the owner handed you wad of cash, closed the curtains to their private dining room and said he'd come get you when they were ready to have their plates cleared. The key was to keep the Dewar's flowing so he wouldn't go crazy on you (again).
Ranch Zabaco Zinfandel was $6 a bottle and we drank of a lot of it, usually with friends while we hung out and watched South Park or Airplane! or Simpsons. There were no phones to stare at, unless you wanted to look at your table or wall all night.
Getting older messes with you. It creeps up on you. 12 years isn't that much, it seems like yesterday. Okay, maybe last month. But still not long ago at all. It was the blink of an eye, a drop in the bucket of life. Now we've been married for almost 10 years, have children and cars and jobs and gray hair and belly fat. But if you crank up the Portishead, it'll be summer in Chicago again.