Not sure why the plaintive croon of Jakob Dylan makes me think of a strip mall parking lot in my old southland home, but it does.

As this blog has proven time and again, just a few seconds of a song can evoke the most specific sites and unremarkable moments in my brain and MamaKitt’s. So it is that “One Headlight” makes me instantly think “Ooh. The parking lot by Target, right by the Chick-Fil-A.” And that is IT, my fine feathered friends. There is no more story than that.

The other day I was driving around my current town and trying to figure out if I still felt new here, after a year and a half, or if this place was starting to feel like home. I didn’t come to any firm conclusion — I think perhaps it does feel like home, but that I also still feel new — and realized, once again, that I still very much have the old place as a frame of reference. OH, doing errands here is easier than it was there. OH, I wish I still had a Trader Joe’s nearby. OH, I miss laughing at the Chick-Fil-A, whose name is the stupidest EVER.

So yeah, I don’t know. This entry is kind of a non-entry, and I apologize for that. “One Headlight” did spark a memory — just not a very good one.

PS whatever happened to Jakob Dylan and the Wallflowers? And Jakob Dylan’s dreamy blue eyes?

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