i haven't listened to Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness in probably 6 or 7 years, but tonight(, tonight) i've been listening to it again. it really is an incredible album. some of the songs, particularly "Muzzle" and "Thirty-Three", songs which were never played on the radio and so whose magic of association has not been lost, can still evoke however diminished those echoes of quiet, lonesome teenage longing, those vague plans of sharing a music that spoke to me with that girl who would understand it too, meeting her by chance, finally away from school, in the record store where i'd tell her to listen to track three on the second disk, and then by herself on the floor of her room she'd play it, attaching me to the resigned ache in the understated lyrics and the gentle melody, and by some confluence of feeling we'd be drawn closer together, and she'd be able to see into my chest without my having given her anything more than a song suggestion accompanied by a meaningful look, and what would I have, other than this imagined, hidden communion... at the time, when i was twelve, that would have been enough for me, because i couldn't conceive of something beyond it, no clear next step, but i figured that would become apparent if only i could have that chance meeting... but that meeting never happened. honestly, i would have been too scared anyway.

ah, the bittersweet memories of youth.