"Cocaine Cowgirl" by Matt Mays & El Torpedo

Once I've decided that I've been hurt, I fully explore the depth and severity of the wound and immerse myself in the pain and the sadness, experiencing it to its fullest extent, until it engulfs me.  I feel alone. I feel sick. I speak little. I eat little. I sleep too much. I drink too much. I take any opportunity to escape it, if only temporarily, before returning to feel it even more intensely.  I sit on the wooden bench on the boathouse porch between the two large speakers and look out over the lake with this song playing at full volume. Sure, it'll pass, but later it'll be back again and it'll be even worse.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukYS3ayVnf8

"Santa Monica" by Jay Malinowski (Bedouin Soundclash)

I booked the hotels while she made a list of things to pack, back when she told me she loved me, back when I was allowed to call her by her nickname, back when we didn't walk down the street but instead floated along on the high of each other's presence. She was going to overcome her fear of flying and get on a plane for the first time with me. We shouldn't have waited, we should have just up and went right then, instead of planning our trip for a time months later when we would have already broken each others' hearts.

The night before our flight, I was going to stay over at her parents' place.  In the morning, I was going to drive us to my parents' and then my dad was going to drive us to the airport. United Airlines flight 8339, departing Montreal at 8:05 AM and arriving in San Francisco at 11:10 AM local time.

We had a reservation for 7 nights at the Casa Loma, just west of downtown San Fran, in the Lower Haight, on Fillmore near Alamo Square and the Painted Ladies.  We were going to visit the SFMOMA, the de Young museum (which has a special Picasso exhibit), the Golden Gate bridge, the Embarcadero, and Alcatraz at night. She had even picked out places to eat: Acme Burgerhaus, La Taqueria...

We were going to rent a car from the Budget on Howard street and take our sweet time exploring the California coastline. Sonoma wine country, the giant redwoods, Monterey, Carmel, Santa Barbara, Highway 1.

Eventually, we would end up in LA, where we had a reservation for 4 nights at the Shelter Hotel on South Mariposa Ave, a few subway stops west of Union Station. MOCA, LACMA, Beverly Hills, Hollywood. (There is a hotel in Hollywood whose website said it was haunted by the ghosts of movie stars past, but staying there was a definite no for her.)

Then, out to Santa Monica, where we were to stay 3 nights at the Seaview Hotel, just a block or two from the beach, the pier, and Pacific Park with its iconic ferris wheel.  The perfect way to end the perfect vacation.

There are far too many songs about California, all of which will forever stir up in me feelings of deep regret over having had to give all this up, over having had to give her up.  Toward the end, when our vacation plans seemed like the only thing holding us together, she made me a California mix CD.  I finally got around to playing it today. This song is not on it.  It is far too sad.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etwOutzsJBM

"Songs of Farewell and Departure" by Hum

I spent five summers there.  I did a lot of growing up there.  I made lifelong friends there. I met my first girlfriend there. I learned the meaning of duty and responsibility there. I learned to be myself there. I experienced pure joy and deep suffering there. I got in touch with nature there. I discovered music there. I belonged there.

When they decided to sell the place, it was as though they had decided to pull our little piece of paradise right out from under our feet. Sure, they would find another place and give it the same name, but of course it would never be the same.

I recently went back to visit the old site.  The ground bulldozed, the old buildings torn down, an enormous house built overlooking the lake.  It'll never be the same, either.

The past is gone. There's no turning back. There's nothing to do but look forward and move on.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4i1u57XeXGk

"Mr. Brightside" by The Killers

So I let her go, my cute freckled little pet.  She had no quit in her, she held on for a long time after, but I let go.  Eventually, finally, she had no choice but to let go too and move on.  I was sure I was doing the right thing.  Since then, I have wondered, but I was so sure of it then.  I suppose it must have been the right thing to do if I was so sure of it in the moment.  At the very least, I'm proud that I had the moral uprightness to be able to adhere so firmly to a decision made based on principle. (Do I still have that same moral uprightness today? I don't know.)

When she started seeing someone else, he asked me if it was okay.  (He was a good friend.  It's too bad he won't talk to me anymore, but that's another story.)   I told him it was okay.  And it was.  It didn't bother me.  I was happy for the both of them.  But it only lasted a week.  Then she came back.

Later on, she got together with another guy, and that was fine with me too.  They asked for my approval and I gave it to them.  That relationship lasted a few months, I think.  She later told me it had been a mistake.

After a while, I decided, of course, that I wanted her back.  But by then it was too late. She really was gone.  I watched her jump from guy to guy, playing them all one off the other like pawns, learning to use her sexuality as a tool, or worse yet, as a weapon.  Was I her ultimate target?  Or just collateral damage?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGdGFtwCNBE

"Helplessness Blues" by Fleet Foxes

She spent seven years under a rock. While the rest of us were out playing/seeing the world/getting lost/getting found/getting drunk/getting high/sobering up, she was hibernating. Stagnating.

When I finally found her, I gave her a little plant. She kept it in her bedroom, in the basement of her parents' house. It wasn't getting enough sunlight down there, so it didn't get any bigger, but it didn't die either. I tried to convince her to put it somewhere with more sun, but she said no, she had to have it in her room close to her to feel as though it belonged to her.  So it just stayed exactly the same size for months and months, not growing, just sitting there, just surviving.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyP0DACgdgc

"I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston

She came out of the bathroom and strutted around my hotel room in a towel like she owned the place.  She started singing, "If I should stay / I would only be in your way."  The song was "I Will Always Love You."  Of course, I knew she didn't love me, but she had a lovely singing voice.

She was my girlfriend for ten days.  Well, not really my "girlfriend."  I met her my first night there, at the bar where she worked, and she just kinda stuck. We spent ten days together and became very close.

Years later, we would meet up again in another town.  By then, she had found herself a wealthy (and older) Australian boyfriend.  But she would tell me that somehow I was the best friend she had ever had.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nPHCThqqt0s

"Party Join Us" by Marron Koshaku & Shinnosuke Nohara (theme from Crayon Shin-chan)

At the end of the summer of 2002, I had to say goodbye to my first girlfriend. I told her I'd miss her. I told her I'd call her. I did neither.

My family came to pick me up from camp, including my cousins visiting from Pennsylvania. The plan was to go back to my parents' place in the West Island for the night, then head down to Pennsylvania for a week, and come back just before school started.

That evening, we saw an old kung fu movie on TV, and decided that we should spend the next week making our own. Thus was born Son Kong: The Struggle Within.

"Redemption Song" by Johnny Cash & Joe Strummer

Corporal punishment is still alive and well in the Korean education system. At the boys' school where I worked, most of the teachers carried wooden dowels.  These were used to startle the kids, to get their attention, and, of course, to strike them with as much force as they saw fit. Needless to say, the students usually took their beatings honourably with a brave face.

In conversation, I tried articulating to some of these teachers the argument against corporal punishment, but with little success.  So I asked them to at least refrain from hitting the kids when I was in class with them, and to allow me to manage student discipline myself. When students acted out during my lessons, I had them go stand at the back of the room and meet me afterward during their break. The boys would cower, anticipating a blow, but instead I dragged them to the teachers' office and had them complete their task there.

"Rocky Raccoon" by The Beatles

When I was a Cub Scout leader, we would sell used books at the annual Christmas bazaar of the church where we held our meetings. Aside from all the little trinkets, knick-knacks, crafts, and gifties being sold by grey-haired churchgoers, another group of kids were selling stuffed animals by the front door. They were very skilled, very aggressive salespeople, and it was impossible for me to leave without buying something from them. So, for fifty cents, I got myself a raccoon.

Of course, the only name that came to mind for a stuffed raccoon was Rocky. I'm not even sure if I had heard the Beatles song by that point in my life. But the name Rocky Raccoon was somehow etched into my subconscious.

"Super Orgy Porno Party" by The Planet Smashers

I met him through my best friend in our last year of high school. He sat two seats behind me in both Chemistry and Physics. We were both very good students. We were both still terrified of the opposite sex. And we shared a silly, immature, ridiculous sense of humour. Looking back, I feel bad for the girl who had to sit between us.

That winter, we all went on our school ski trip to Mont Sainte-Anne. A weekend of skiing, Chef Boyardee dinners, and what we naively called partying. In the evening, while the other kids were out getting drunk, exploring their sexuality, playing daredevil, or vandalizing the resort, we were in our condo listening to "Super Orgy Porta-Potty" on repeat.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGR0IbTd6IQ

"Black" by Pearl Jam

He wanted her so badly. They were great friends and might have been great lovers, those gentle, poetic, funny, out-of-place souls. But she didn't want him, for whatever reason a woman doesn't want a man who would be perfect for her. No, looking back, it was probably for the best, they were probably too much alike for it to work. But he was hurt bad.

"Turn Your Lights Down Low" by Bob Marley & The Wailers

She didn't want to dance. She didn't go to nightclubs very often, and the hip hop R&B reggae the band here was playing was definitely not her thing. It looked as though we were going to spend the entire evening sitting awkwardly on a sofa. But her friends finally managed to coax her, convince her, drag her by the arms onto the dance floor and get her moving.