One year for Christmas, I bought my brother the Bob Marley box set. Quite pleased with myself for finally identifying a gift that my brother would relish, I overlooked the repercussions. Two weeks in December of non-stop reggae is wrong, people. My brother was in his low rage-control phase at that point as well, so there was no way to switch the music without a knock down, drag out disaster. However, I was always thrilled to hear Could you be loved, because a) it's one of the few upbeat, really bouncy tunes in a sea of mellow mellow tunes, and b) I want to hug everyone when I hear this song.
Incidentally, if I ever stop smiling at the silliness of Oh L'Amour by Erasure, I'll know I have officially grown old and bitter. Please put me out of my misery if that happens, by the way.
In honor of today, I really wanted to post a picture of my favorite beverage of the moment, but my camera died this morning, so no such luck. However, dudes, have you ever tried Pom? Not only is it quite tasty and healthy, it's incredibly fun to say and is sold in possibly the most attractive bottle. What can I say, I'm a sucker for packaging. In December, when I was visiting my cousins, we bought Pom in a ridiculous gargantuan Whole Foods in Texas... because everything really is bigger there. We mixed it with vodka, and were forever using the word Pom whenever possible- if you put enough of an Indian accent, it starts to sound like a biological function of some kind.
I don't know. I'm in a silly mood. It's another one of those days where I feel quite like an alien. I am not lovey-dovey, not swooning. Nor am I bitter. Nor am I numb. There are things about which to brood, perhaps, but I am not inclined to do so today. Most peculiar. It's probably the Pom. A weird dichotomy- to be so dissatisfied by the large matters in life, and yet to get pure joy out of something as slight as a pleasantly shaped bottle of pomegranate juice.
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