Recollection I – “The Way She Dances”/Jessica

I’ve always been fascinated with the relationship between memories and music, a bond which I believe to be symbiotic; somehow.  I’ve researched the utilization of music for the memory recall of the elderly, glanced over papers on how the mind reacts to certain structures and theorized on the ability of the mind to record lyrics more effectively with particular beats and sounds.  It’s certainly quite obvious that a connection between memories and music exists, scientifically speaking there are theories abound to help grasp the concept.  Where the rubber has yet to meet the road is past the walls of science, neck high in the metaphysical machinations of either my own mind or a greater presence I struggle to explain to others.  So here we are; the point where talking it out leads to strange looks and encore presentations and  even a spirited conversation over a couple twenty two ounce glasses of Dos Equis after a shot of Single Barrel Jack Daniels just won’t do.

I’ve always thought that a memory is more than simply its definition, there’s more to it all than simply encoding, storing and retrieving data throughout the brain.  It is a part of something larger, something more grandiose; ethereal even.  There’s an aspect to the experience of recollection that is unexplainable in the same realm as Déjà vu and music is often the unheralded catalyst within the entire schema.  I’m bordering on Dos Equis talk now; I feel the raspy influence of the Most Interesting Man alive sipping on the effectiveness of my theory.  Perhaps there’s something to be said for providing examples.

There are certainly more famous N*E*R*D songs, there are better beats and better lyrics amongst their many hits; although Pharell is consistently smooth through all of them.  What this song does have that the others don’t is the ability to allow me the recollection I so desperately want to demonstrate.  Without any premeditation as this song is spooled up by the groovy intentions of my iPod I’m instantly no longer in my car driving home from work, there’s a sense of buoyancy (which I assure you is completely safe even though at the time I’m operating a motor vehicle at high speed) as space and time fold like an accordion I find myself somewhere I’m not but somewhere and someone I was.

Chad Hugo’s guitar strums flow over me, I blink and I’m in the CD aisle of Best Buy in Westbury New York.  I’m back to sculpted tuft of chin hair and very little makings of a beard, I check the time on my Sidekick and my body begins to fill with youthful exuberance as I realize it will be time to get back to campus once we’ve finished closing the store.  I make a move towards my section when my exit is abruptly cut off by a cart full of CDs.  Jessica peaks her head around the corner.

“Hey, bet you’d love to help me with these?” she says.  Jessica was thin, a little taller than most girls and while she was very attractive she wasn’t beautiful in a classical sense, there was more of an abrasive sensuality about her.  She was quite impressive to look at but it was her movement that struck me, the way she walked her hair would flow across her shoulders like a wavy black sea and every so often a few strands would drop down in front of her eyes.  The combination of her eye shadow and her dark hair would always make them seem like two hazel lighthouses peering back at me through the darkness.

Someone turns the volume up right as Pharrell does his little pre-verse mouth breathing thing he does.

Unzip your skirt, take off your blouse.

I nod yes with a monstrous grin across my face because I’m now imaging her long frame acquiescing to Pharrell’s lyrical whims; of course in my mind I’m Pharrell but that’s neither here nor there.

“What’s so funny?”  She nudges me with her hip; I pinch the nape of her back as a rebuttal.  I tell her I’m just listening to the song and that it’s one of my favorites at the moment.

“I LOVE N*E*R*D!  I didn’t know you were a fan this is like my favorite part!”

Slow motion like a dream but real time is what it seems.
I love the way she dance .

She stops stacking CDs and bounces into a pseudo-pirouette, her hair flows and bounces with her while her shirt sticks to her slender body as she spins.  The momentum from her miscalculated spin or at least she’d have me believe it was miscalculated, causes our bodies to collide; my reflex is to grab her around the waist with the arm that isn’t filled by an assorted stack of CDs with Artist names that begin with ‘T’.  Her hazel lighthouses snatch my eyes away from me.

“Do you love the way I dance?”  She smiles at me again, I have trouble remaining smooth and simply nod and smile; not my best work.  I would have been better off quoting the song but that moment has passed.  I move on to asking about her plans for the weekend hoping to find some way to end up singing this song to her in a more intimate setting.

Pharrell is steadily ramping up the smooth over the store speakers; we’ve already passed the query on marrying a mermaid with big tits, a fat ass and turquoise hair no sense in letting him have all the fun.  I grab her gently by the hand and spin her around in the middle of her sentence; as she tries to finish, her words start in one place then disappear as if they’ve been stolen by the air around us.  I pull her close to me then ask if she’d be angry with me if I kissed her right now.

Kiss you, kissing me, its euphoria,
Mission 2 and mission 3 its kissing 4 of ya.

“Umm yeah I’d be a little upset.”  She unlocks herself from my grasp but holds onto my hand, before I can press my attack she spins herself back into me.  She’s so close that the scent of the wavy black sea on her shoulders is intoxicating.  The breath from her lips is soft and effortless as it caresses the lobe of my ear.

“Maybe, you should kiss me later though.”  She whispers in my ear and gently pulls away from me as her lips drag across my cheek.  I smile with my youthful exuberance and I tell her I look forward to granting that request.  I watch her continue stacking the CDs in their respective containers as I move towards my section once again.  I turn around to steal another look, I catch her as she’s finishing the aisle and moving into the next; her hair is in the way of her eyes.  The breakdown started already, a little disappointed I missed it because I love the transition to the hand claps but when sparks fly, sparks fly.

Excuse me but girl come with me,
See you and I can be each other’s company,
But can’t you see,
When sparks fly,
When sparks fly,
I think that’s love,
Don’t you think?  

Author of 'When a Unicorn Crosses the Unicorn'

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