In an effort to not move a bunch of crap into my new place, which, I then have to store, I have been sifting through the minutiae of my life. I’ve been opening boxes I moved, unopened, from my last place, and even the place before that. I think I’m almost done.

One of the things I expected to be bittersweet was going through the big box of stuff I took out of my car, when she was towed away that last time and consigned to the Scott Road wreckers. It wasn’t as bad as I thought, but now I am sorting through the tapes I had in the car. I haven’t heard some of these songs in years. There’s my bittersweet.

There are the mixed tapes my friend Jay made in Port Hardy. They were the ambient music in the bar he managed, where I worked sometimes. There were bands most Thursdays-to-Saturdays, but the tapes were for before the bands went on, and in between sets. As I listen, I keep getting flashes of my friends, of sore feet, of telling someone rye and coke was the same as rum and coke (I was a very bad waitress, really), of my strange, strange life at that time.

There’s all the John Cougar Mellencamp, one of my favourites for blasting on sunny days while driving. I can see the dash of my car so clearly, can feel the wheel under my hands.

U2’s Achtung Baby-I am driving a borrowed pickup truck along a forested road at one AM. I’m eating a piece of apple pie with my hands and I’m not sure who I’ll see when I get out at the end of the drive.

My ‘Obscure Cult Mix’ takes me all the way back to high school. I’ve got my walkman plugged in and I’m doing some after-school stuff in the art room. Beside me is my friend Kat, so simple and kind, and so conflicted. I can smell her L’Oreal lipstick, see the way her polka-dot tights stretch over thighs she never thought were thin enough.

I guess it’s true what they say, music can take us anywhere.

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