You were just dumped, and the relationship was a good one (you thought). You're in those pre-dawn moments right before you realize what a big fucking mistake your life has become. What's the sondtrack? Brian McKnight? Peter Gabriel? The Cramps? Sinatra? Air Supply? The Stones? The Violent Femmes? Ronnie James Dio? Sepultra? $Country_star? $Top40_starlet?
Situation 2: The Triumphant Return From Disgrace
In college / highschool, you were a loser's loser. The nerds beat you up, the jocks used you for athletic support. Members of the opposite sex derided you in epic poetry slams that continue to this day. The local news featured you in a weekly segment they called "Pathetic and Weak." One time? One time your parents showed up in the newspaper on page 2, above the fold, calling for your immediate arrest and deportation on the grounds that you were wasting oxygen in a criminal fashion. Your grandmother laughed at you behind your back.
Then came The Day That Changed Everything. Your hard work and single-minded devotion finally paid off, and your ideas become the basis for a world-transforming set of technologies and beliefs. You've just pulled up to the driveway at the ten year reunion in your new fancy car. Everyone stands outside waiting for your arrival. What song do they hear when the doors open? Will you go the typical route and choose a Queen song or maybe an angry punk tune? Or will you go all Dali on them and choose something like "We All Live in a Yellow Submarine"? Will you go with something esoteric and lively by King Crimson, or hit 'em with a Tool song about how much everyone sucks? Will it be a nursery rhyme or an Eminem ditty?
Situation 3: You're Fired.
You worked your ass off. You spent a good chunk of your time devoted to your company's needs. You were consistantly brilliant, your performance was legendary. You held your opinion and anger at the futile nonsense, you played the politics. You debased yourself, you did what was needed. Then one day, the company you gave blood and sweat and tears to decided to move your division to India. You've been handed a month's pay and a pat on the ass. What's the first song that enters your mind? "I'm Free" by The Who? "Death Flies on Sparrow's Wings" by 256 and blixco? "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas? "Carmina Burana" as played by the Moscow Philharmonic and Tractor Collective? Just about anything ever uttered into a microphone by Rage Against The Machine? Some Metallica? A little Dixie Chicks? Maybe some Brave Combo ("Happy Wanderer" or maybe "Don't Forget Your Bucket")? Some Bob Marley?
Situation 4: It's Been a Good Day.
The beach is in the rearview. Your body is weary from sun and activity. A cool forest drive rises ahead of you. The windows are down. The passenger seat contains an amazing companion who is completely in love with you. You still have six days off, with pay. Your clothes smell of wood fire and coconut oil, of tequila and loud company. What's on the radio? Radiohead? Marvin Gaye? Waylon et Willie? The Eagles? The Beastie Boys? John Coltrane? Steely Dan? Chris Rea? The Gypsy Kings? Mariah Carey? The Doors? Public Enemy?
Situation 5: It's Been a Work Day.
Nothing special. Head a little toasty and worn from the day's problems and solutions. The prospect of 40 years of this still ahead. Every day a badge-in-badge-out day, coffee and cigarettes and khaki pants. Stumbling over logistics and cynical output from coworkers. You're on your way home in heavy traffic, stuck for an hour behind an SUV the size of Cleveland. When you get home, you'll just need to clean up after the dog and cook dinner before an exciting night of TV and eventually an Ambien-induced dreamless sleep. Then you get up at 6am and do it again. What's on the radio? Freddy Fender? Tool? Staind? Lyle Lovett? Buddy Holly? The Scorpians? Bruce Springsteen? Ani DiFranco? Hammel on Trial? Special AKA? Pearl Jam? The Bags? Olivia Newton John?
Situation 6: The World is About To Explode.
Turns out those crazy cultists in Marfa were right, the world really is just one big space dinosaur egg, and the world is about to explode / hatch. Mankind is doomed, all the way doomed, nothing can be done about it. No amount of packing or canning or growing your own food or survival training or guns will change it. You've got fifteen minutes. You've said your goodbyes, you're lying in a darkened bed, surrounded by the people, pets, and things you love. The stereo glows softly. The song starts.
Fill in your answers / as much nonsense as you want below.
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