I wrote an ode to The Smiths' Bigmouth Strikes Again ... from a mouse's perspective. Read it here.
And I started thinking about how I've had wonderful, emotional, heartbreaking relationships with songs. And about how these songs inevitably leave me feeling small — either because they've unlocked a hiding place, or they've channeled a powerful, identifying feeling so acutely I feel powerless in its wake.
And then I started thinking about the time in the fourth grade when I tried to prove that my cat was a Bush fan. And about animals and music. And then I started thinking about Bigmouth Strikes Again (because I love it) and feeling small again (because I sometimes do). And then I wrote this. I hope you like it.