The Mutual Admiration Society, LA Chapter

Stuck in traffic between the 10 west and 405 south, I popped in a cd I hadn't listened to in years. It was from a band I love, that doesn't exist anymore, fronted by a man I adore.

The first few chords played and all of a sudden I was transported back to that initial night in May 2000...when the cd was released...when the boy climbed the rafters like a randy monkey...when The Troubadour became home...when I met the people who would be responsible for most of the trouble I'd find myself in over the next 5 years.

It was the start of an era characterized by a seemingly endless run of reckless fun. And it was fucking fantastic.

As the music continued to tickle my heart strings in the way only his songs can, the cherry red sun sank across a purple sky and I slowly inched along to my exit, willing myself to let it go. Because we're no longer those same kids. There are no more party buses to Vegas. Or late nights at St. Nick's. Or hug therapy at Mel & Rose with the boy who warms hearts with his very smile.

L'sigh.

Time refuses to stand still. But melancholy has a way of overstaying its welcome.