Nevermind... not that you would
The buzzing lines of gossip are no good
Let's just watch it all closed circuit, you and me
We are spying on the spies
They are just jealous!

Wish us luck
Wish us all the luck
'Cause I might follow you anywhere
Streets are dark
Full of crooks
But they can't even meet your stare
You will be tricked
Hearts are slick
Please don't lose your grip on life

Yeah, wish us luck
Wish us all the luck
'Cause we are making record time

Little things send me south
Like the corners of your mouth
When it broods
Listen hard: erase the past
It won't take you far

Wish us luck
Wish us all the luck
'Cause I might you follow anywhere
The streets are dark
Full of crooks
But they can't even meet your stare
You will be tricked
Hearts are slick
But please don't lose your grip on life

Yeah, wish us luck
Wish us all the luck
'Cause we are making record time

Ooooo-ooo-ooo!
Ooooo-ooo-ooo!
Ooooo-ooo-ooo!
Ooooo-ooo-ooo!

--Portastatic off of their album The Nature of Sap. Yes, the title is misspelled.

She would call me up (this was while She was in New York City for the summer and I was still living in Nevada) during difficult times. Difficult times, but nothing horrible, no cancer survivor stories or hacked off limbs or anything. My last relationship had ended in what I was sure my girlfriend cheating on me with my roommate, I didn't necessarily care for my job as a corporate whore for Tower Records, and I felt trapped in the town where I was living. Her (and let me reiterate that it was "Her") voice was a beacon, a star, a shining light, a guiding force.

We had known each other for years, through phone calls, through letters, known the most important parts of a person: we knew each other's souls, damnit. She would call me up with a sighing voice and complain about filming and school and it all sounded so far off and perfect to me.

"I have a song you need to hear."

And there it was. We had our song. After all this time, it all made sense. We were meant for each other. We had a song and everything!

Two years later, in Massachusetts, we attend the same Yo La Tengo concert by sheer accident. We're not frosty and uncomfortable around each other, not any more. We realize now that we were turning a friendship into something it wasn't. We started something, forced ourselves into a zone where we were clearly never meant to go. It's still hard to talk, though.

Portastatic opened up, played an awesome set, and even came out for an encore. I kept yelling for them to play Spying on the Spys, but they never did.

I was disappointed, sure, but then, concerning Her, a lot of things had disappointed me.

This was nothing new.

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