The plural of anecdote is not data.
Today is the 80th birthday of Brian Wilson, arguably one of the great musical craftspeople of my generation. Two days ago it was the 80th birthday of Paul McCartney.
Back in the day — in those glorious days when we didn’t trust anyone over 30 — my contemporaries were divided into adherents of the Beach Boys, those who preferred the Beatles, and others who tapped their feet to the rhythm and blues of the Stones (Mick will be 80 next year).
I’m sure there are still some who stick to those ideologies, but I suspect most of us grew into understanding that they were all musical geniuses who, between them, both created and reflected the zeitgeist that was our lives.
Time to put Pet Sounds, Rubber Soul, and Some Girls on repeat rotation!
was it the jitterbug perfume
she poured on my soul
— the fragrance of an everlasting kiss —
that keeps me staring
into the dark?
my neglected work
— lying angry like an abandoned maiden
scattered across my desk —
shivers with jealousy
as I part the curtains once more
and stare into that scented slice