This line is taken from REM's Automatic For The People. I won't get into the lyric noding of the album, as I'm sure it's been done before and if it hasn't then we shouldn't because of copyright but sometimes don't you want to know what's in the song and what's wrong with sharing words and why do the record companies do what they...

Er. Nevermind.

Anyway, I'm spending this morning noding in E2, as Slashdot has gone down for some strange reason. Not a very normal event, so I'm casting about for other, more enjoyable activites than getting in the sysadmin's way.

I digress. Automatic is probably one of the albums that's had a most significant impact on my life. Each song on there seems to personify a different flashbulb memory of a time and place; most of them are associated with the summer dem bones and I were living in the apartment that burned down. (Hmmm...perhaps I should node landlords who don't fix electrical wires ruin lives.) That time occupies a special place in my heart, with folks like lawnjart, thefez, gilded frame, coby, clampe, SamZenpus a regular fixture in that house. We sang sin. We drank gin.

The song Nightswimming conjures up images of Clampe's cottage on Lake Michigan, and the summer of the grape game and other frivolties. Those summers were some of the most enjoyable of my life, and I suspect that this meandering node is mostly about how songs impact you, and the memories they create. So, uncap the Strawberry Hill, and think about the time past.