Late Saturday Night

She surprised the hell out of me. "You have any music you want to listen to?" she asked. I know she generally dislikes the stuff I like. No Hank Sr. No DTB. No Rancid. Maybe some Johnny Cash, but I know the rest of the stuff I've bought or borrowed and burned onto my laptop weren't up her ally. I mumbled something about how she probably wouldn't like anything I have and perhaps we ought to listen to some of her stuff. I saw that I had taken her flowers and crushed them under my boots.

Then I remember something jP let me borrow and rip to my computer. Frog Holler. I turned the speakers and my machine up loud. We were painting and the girl was asleep, but that's on the other side of the house. Out of the speakers poured what country should of sound like instead of the pop-infused garbage it has become. "I like this," she said, genuinely. "This is what country used to sound like!"

We listened to both albums that were on my machine. It was the first time in a long time I felt like I had something good to share.