By the time March rolls its slender shoulders back and faces front to stare the future in its face, you’ve settled into the rhythm of the new year. You have a pattern and a pace. You’re more patient; you’re better prepared. Most March days, you have time to digest your moments as they unfold; some days, you even have time to make a playlist.
March 2016 Hypothetical Hump Day Tracks:
1. (7:28 am) Sickasfuck | Tei Shi
You wake up two minutes before your alarm. You consider feeling proud of yourself, but are distracted by the effort it takes to lift your eyelids. The window is open and the floor feels far away. Somehow, even after your slumber, the sheets are still cool. You wonder how long the birds have been awake.
2. (10:45 am) It’s Not My Fault, I’m Happy | Passion Pit
It is bright and crisp outside. In the sound of your shoes scuttling on the pavement, you hear the cackle of the coffee machine as it sputtered and grooved earlier this morning. You are convinced that your hands smell like the milk and brown sugar you clumsily stirred into your cup, but tell yourself the scent isn’t strong enough for anybody around you to really notice. You go out of your way to make eye contact with strangers. You plot to fall in love with one of them someday.
3. (2:23 pm) Overnight Sensation | BØRNS
At your desk, your brain cells are gloomy and wilted and gray. But outside, the world is peaceful and warm and hums in a major key. You imagine God watching the earth like a six year old watches an anthill: eating a grape popsicle, smiling stupendously with his eyes glued to the spectacle.
4. (6:01 pm) Golden Thread | Passenger ft. Matt Corby
You are so distracted by the pinkness of the sky that you don’t even bother to check your posture in the windows of the buildings you pass on your journey home. As you thumb the keychain in your pocket, you consider pulling out the car key instead of the house key. You wonder what the weather is like in New Orleans this time of year. You wonder how much rent costs in Brooklyn. You try to remember if your passport has expired or not.
5. (10:17 pm) Refuse | Kevin Garrett
The world is beautiful. You know this. But walking home in the darkness from an apartment you didn’t want to leave, you are suddenly and wholly overwhelmed by the number of people in the world you will never meet; the stories you will never make a cameo in; the hands you will never hold. You want to dissolve into the atmosphere so that maybe, five million years from now, you might have passed through every pair of lungs on earth.
6. (11:40 pm) Death & Taxes | Daniel Caesar
The day has wound down into itself like a board game packed perfectly away. You are drunk on tiredness and grateful for your body. You thank your feet for carrying you through the world, as damn big as it is. You look out the window to see Orion in the night sky; you admire his sharpness. Later, sinking once again into the ocean of your sheets, you cocoon yourself in a smug smile because your life might just be the most beautiful life anyone has ever lived. Your sprawl takes up the entire bed.
7. (1:09 am) You Were Born — Live | Cloud Cult
In the dream, you live inside a warm raincloud. You are a child (but a very wise and proud one; a king of sorts), and your heart is so big that people come from all over the universe to take pictures of it. Come back again soon, you tell them as they stumble out your door. A part of you wishes that just once, the visitors would stay — but maybe that’s just your heart talking. You are content and always feel full. Your cloudhome travels the earth, and you go with it, peering carefully downat the mountains and roads and valleys and rivers until you decide which place should be home. And then, when the time is right, you fall fat and heavy alongside your other water droplet brothers, weeping with the relief at the feeling of finally giving in to gravity. It is good.