twenty minutes later...I rode the 18 from Ballard. Brendan Benson covers "let me roll it." I calibrate the song, and my reaction to the song, against the vibration of the bus... it's a fucking hot song. he goes from strident to pleading, a sinuous falsetto against grinding chords. my reflection is superimposed against the benign lights of Magnolia. I want. I want abstractly, in a "look at myself, wanting" kind of way. the night is poignant for no real reason. I am happy. I am leaning against a wine rack at the grocer's to write this. the store is playing "careless whisper."