Chapter 83
Chapter Eighty-Three
DeadStrings: Just came back from our late-night walk, how about yourself?
DeadStrings: When is that?
DeadStrings: East Coast, then. Interesting.
StringTheory27: The Plaza, to be exact.
DeadStrings: Fancy. I don’t think I would visit that place again.
StringTheory27: Have you stayed here?
DeadStrings: If memory serves me well, I got kicked out of it a few years ago.
StringTheory27: What? How?
DeadStrings: Not my finest moment. Let’s just say alcohol, drugs, and room service don’t mix well when you’re trying to be someone you’re not.
StringTheory27: You’re a mystery full of bad decisions.
DeadStrings: And held together by duct tape and regret. So, where are you heading?
StringTheory27: The West Coast.
DeadStrings: That narrows it down to three states. Washington, Oregon, or California?
StringTheory27: I’m not going to tell you. That’d be going into specifics, and I don’t think we’re ready for that.
DeadStrings: You named my dog, but claim we’re not ready to know where we live? That’s . . . weird, but I’ll accept it. Maybe it’s for the best.
StringTheory27: Which coast are you on?
DeadStrings: West, just like you, but that’s all I am saying since you’re not ready for more.
StringTheory27: I think this is enough, more so when you’re telling me you just graduated from high school. How do I know you’re not seventeen?
DeadStrings: LMAO
StringTheory27: I’m serious.
DeadStrings: I’m a high school dropout in his thirties trying to patch his life back together with duct tape and willpower. This is a teenage drama-free zone—just older mistakes.
StringTheory27: I need you to teach me how to do this life-patching thing. I think I’m running out of tape.
DeadStrings: You’re asking the wrong person. I’m just learning the basics, but we can learn together if that helps.
StringTheory27: It does. A little.
DeadStrings: You seem like you’ve got everything under control, though. I think you just expect too much from yourself. Like you’re trying to prove something.
StringTheory27: Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just spent so long letting people walk all over me because I feared they’d leave if I didn’t.
DeadStrings: That’s not weakness. That’s survival. But you deserve more than just being tolerated.
StringTheory27: Sometimes I forget that. Sometimes I think being chosen means being quiet.
DeadStrings: It doesn’t. Being chosen should never cost you your voice.
StringTheory27: Then why does it always feel like it does?
DeadStrings: Because the wrong people benefit from your silence. Doesn’t mean the right ones will.
StringTheory27: That sounds like something I’d underline in a book.
DeadStrings: Maybe one day you will. In your tell-all memoir: How to Be Quiet Loudly.
StringTheory27: Subtitle: And Still Miss Your Flight.
DeadStrings: Speaking of flights—what do you listen to while you travel?
StringTheory27: The question is: Do I have a traveling list? You mean the one that changes every trip but always starts with something broody and ends with a power anthem?
DeadStrings: Exactly that. Give me your top five for this trip.
StringTheory27: Hmm. Okay. No judgment.
DeadStrings: Otis is judging already.
StringTheory27:
Top 5 Songs for Airport Existentialism:
“Bizarre Love Triangle” —New Order
Because nothing says, “Why am I like this?” like synths and heartbreak.
“Running Up That Hill” —Kate Bush
For dramatic stares out the window, and in case there’s any turbulence (emotional or otherwise).
“Just Like Heaven” —The Cure
So I don’t spiral too deep. It’s like a parachute made of pastel nostalgia.
“Obsession” —Animotion
For walking through terminals like I’m in a thriller-romance hybrid.
“Free Fallin’” —Tom Petty
Because somewhere between gate changes and overpriced coffee, I remember I’m still free—even if my luggage isn’t.
DeadStrings: Strong list. I’d follow you through Terminal 5 with that one. Want mine?
StringTheory27: It’s the least you could do.
DeadStrings:
Top 5 Songs for When the World’s Moving and You’re Just Along for the Ride:
“Life’s What You Make It” —Talk Talk
The song that quietly slaps you into optimism. Perfect for takeoff.
“Learning to Fly” —Pink Floyd
Little on-the-nose, but when the wings tilt upward, it hits.
“Boys Don’t Cry” —The Cure
For all those babies you know will be crying.
“Enjoy the Silence” —Depeche Mode
Because nothing soothes jetlag like synth and nihilism.
“Don’t Stop Believing” —Journey
Classic. Predictable. Necessary.
StringTheory27: You had me until Journey.
DeadStrings: Don’t knock the classics. Even Otis howls along.
StringTheory27: Poor Otis. He didn’t choose this life.
DeadStrings: He chose me. And my questionable taste.
StringTheory27: Then he’s braver than the rest of us. Or . . . he’s clearly into self-sabotage.
DeadStrings: Or maybe he’s evolved. Today, he fell asleep to Mazzy Star.
StringTheory27: That explains the existential sigh when you mentioned another walk.
DeadStrings: He’s moody. I respect it.
StringTheory27: Speaking of moody, give me your top 5 Road Trip Songs (you’re the passenger, but you own the tape deck). Go.
DeadStrings: Challenge accepted.
DeadStrings:
Top 5 “I’m Not Driving but I’m DJ-ing” Road Trip Songs:
“Wish You Were Here” —Pink Floyd
For that stretch of road where everything feels like a memory you never had.
“No Rain” —Blind Melon
For singing out of tune and forgetting why you were sad.
“Loser” —Beck
Because sometimes absurdity makes you feel more seen than sincerity.
“One Headlight” —The Wallflowers
This song is the open road.
“Ironic” —Alanis Morissette
For screaming every lyric until your voice breaks and you laugh anyway.
StringTheory27: Loser? That’s your highway vibe?
DeadStrings: My optimism comes with sarcasm as a default setting. Thought you’d catch on by now.
StringTheory27: So, you’re moody and layered like Otis’ coat. Got it.
DeadStrings: And a little itchy if you hug me too long.
StringTheory27: Ew. You ruined the moment.
DeadStrings: What’s your list then? Dazzle me.
StringTheory27:
Top 5 “Drive Me Anywhere but Home” Road Trip Songs:
“Lovefool” —The Cardigans
Because what’s a road trip without delusional optimism? This one’s sugarcoated desperation, dipped in bubblegum gloss, and tied with a velvet ribbon of denial. It’s the soundtrack for every moment you’ve begged—silently or out loud—for someone to love you back, even when you know they won’t.
The vocals are soft, sweet, and nearly whimsical—like pleading through a smile. But listen closer, and it’s not cute. It’s painful. It’s someone performing love like it’s a trick that might win them a seat at the table.
And that’s what makes it perfect for a drive: windows down, heart halfway shredded, singing along like maybe—just maybe—you believe the chorus. Even when you know better. Especially when you know better.
“Two Princes” —Spin Doctors
Catchy, slightly unhinged, maybe even questionable for your long-term emotional health—but impossible to skip.
“1979” —Smashing Pumpkins
This is the one you put on when the world slows down—when the sky turns that in-between color just before night falls, and everything feels suspended. It’s not about heartbreak or hope. It’s about after. About looking back on something you never realized was ending until it was already gone.
Billy Corgan’s voice here floats. It’s almost monotone.
There’s a weariness in the way he sings, like he’s flipping through pages of a life that needs a second glance.
His delivery is all restraint—like if he lets himself feel too much, the memories might spill out and pull him under.
It’s the sound of someone skimming the surface of something deeper, not because it doesn’t matter, but because it matters too much to touch directly.
It’s nostalgia without the glitter. A song that captures that specific ache of remembering who you were at seventeen—full of restlessness and imagined freedom—and realizing how little of that version of yourself made it to now.
It’s perfect for a long drive when you’re not sure where you’re going but know you can’t stay where you are.
“One Headlight” —The Wallflowers
I agree with you. This song is the open road—but not the sunlit, windows-down kind.
It’s the kind you drive at midnight, with only half your lights working and too much on your mind.
It’s resignation with a pulse. That first guitar riff feels like gravel under the tires—familiar, a little rough, but it keeps you moving.
Jakob Dylan’s voice carries the exhaustion of someone who’s been trying too long and gotten nowhere, but still turns the ignition back on because what else is there to do? This is the after—after the funeral, after the fight, after you’ve stopped expecting anyone to rescue you.
This song is for those moments when clarity feels out of reach, but motion is necessary.
When you drive not to arrive anywhere, but because staying still feels worse.
It’s late-night, roadside vigils and unresolved grief.
A road stretching endlessly ahead, with just enough light to keep going—even if you're not sure why.
“Criminal” —Fiona Apple
It’s Fiona, no explanation needed.
DeadStrings: If I heard that playlist coming from another car, I’d follow it just to find out who made it.
StringTheory27: And be deeply disappointed when it’s just me with a melted chocolate bar and a crumpled map with too many scribble marks.
DeadStrings: Sounds like my kind of road trip.
StringTheory27: We’d argue about snacks before we even hit the freeway.
DeadStrings: And still make it to the state line laughing.
StringTheory27: Only after we’ve stopped three times—once for gas, once for snacks, and once because you insisted the dog needed to pee.
DeadStrings: Otis has a very dignified bladder schedule, thank you very much.
StringTheory27: Pretty sure he’s just manipulating you for beef jerky.
DeadStrings: Honestly? Same.
StringTheory27: So, we agree: you’re in charge of music, I’m in charge of directions, and Otis handles morale?
DeadStrings: As long as morale includes barking at cows and sticking his head out the window like we’re in a coming-of-age film.
StringTheory27: It already is a coming-of-age film. We’re just very late bloomers.
DeadStrings: Better late than never blooming at all.
StringTheory27: That’s going on a mixtape cover.
DeadStrings: What’s it called?
StringTheory27: “Late Bloomers and Detours.” Volume One.
DeadStrings: Only if Volume Two is “Somehow Still Moving.”
StringTheory27: Deal. I think I’m going to take a nap before calling the cab.
DeadStrings: That’s a bad idea. Message me when you can.