Sometimes when I get in a music rut–hey, it’s hard when you have no car radio to introduce you to new music–I spent a few days with my iTunes on shuffle. Inevitably something wonderful and amazing (and also some really bad music that I don’t even know where it came from) pops up.
Today, Guster’s Satellite started playing while I straightened my hair. And instantly, I was back in Roy O, sitting in one of those weird, oddly-raised cubicles writing an English essay. And then I was in my Mom’s old Subaru driving from DePauw to St. Louis while we blasted Guster, looking at farm fields.