10 PM — Song of the Hour: "Lover I Don't Have to Love"

"Lover I Don't Have to Love"

Bright Eyes

from Lifted or The Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground

2002

Shout out to Pam, who, yeah, was supposed to write something for this 10 PM slot, but is too busy killing it at the Mom game to have time to write for a blog. True, she does spend a decent amount of time on her phone during those three hours out of 24 when both kids are sleeping (10 PM might be one of those hours!), but again, there are definitely more important things to do than write 100 words on a random song. I understand this.

I understand that I tend to force my hobbies onto other people, and I understand that some people will just never be interested in the way I am, no matter how many times and in how many ways I try to convince. There's a point when I can imagine it would start to get annoying, and I try to avoid crossing that line. That's why I only asked Pam to write 100 words for today's 24-hour playlist twice, and not three times, because the third time would've been an issue.

Record Club presents the most frequent opportunity to toe that line, since it functions with the help of others, and so I find myself trying to get people involved and keep people involved. But I get that some people just never will be interested, and that's mostly understandable. Like, the other night, we were drinking a couple beers with Kev (outside, ten feet apart), and I told him how he picked an album for Record Club a few weeks ago. It turns out that the description I gave for "Why Kev Probably Won't Write a Review" was mostly accurate—the kid immediately deletes every email I send him on Sunday mornings. Now, because it's Kev, I'm going to do my fair share of busting balls over this revelation, but also, I'm pretty accepting of the ultimate truth—Kev will never participate in Record Club, no matter how much I wish he would.

I also try to outwardly show my appreciation for those who actually participate in the continual formation of Puke on Your Birthday—I sincerely love reading shit from Sunny and Nate and Rachel and all those who contribute a lot or a little—while I also try to make it crystal clear that none of this is mandatory. I want people to want to write, and I don't want anyone to ever think that they have to write for PoYB. Because that's not fun! This shouldn't be a chore. I'd rather have everyone I know choose not to write anything than have everyone I know write but be miserable as they do so.

As always, I'm really overthinking it. Puke on Your Birthday occupies about 30% of my thoughts on any given day, and it probably occupies an average of 0.005% of everyone else's, so all this fretting is probably for naught. Plus, we're a month away from slowing down significantly around here, as on January 1 I will be released from my self-made obligation of writing every day. (Record Club and Never Seen It will probably be the only published columns for a good long while, and they certainly won't be daily). So who the fuck cares, right?

So obviously it's cool Pam didn't write anything for today. I will still honor her and all her past contributions to Puke on Your Birthday by playing her (and her sister's) favorite Bright Eyes song (with love, your kid with the chemicals). And please know that I will probably force her to write something about her favorite albums of the year or something.