i can listen to music over and over. i mean that really extremely literally — i can easily listen to something dozens of times without pausing, and one of my techniques is to listen on youtube, and when the song is done, alt+tab back to the browser, drag the slider to the beginning, and go again.
usually these are a handful of pieces, things i'm just obsessively listening to at the moment (currently: mahler 1, some metal arrangements of nes soundtracks, the french classical guitarist edith pageaud). but sometimes, something works its way in.
a few weeks ago, the something was "the trip" by dreampop band still corners. i got taken in by the long runtime (around six minutes - less time alt tabbing). by the reverb and strumming and the chime and the longing in lyrics like the opening:
something in the song triggering memories of road trips taken but also planned then abandoned. i remember one weekend we drove a couple hours and camped in a provincial park a little north-east of the capital. just about the only ones there. tossed a football around. made some underwhelming meals. went for walks. did a little light trespassing in an abandoned mini-golf course. it was me and a couple of guy friends and one of our female friends, entirely platonic, she having never had a relationship with any of us, before or since. always (& forever) one of the guys.
we did this once a year or so — pick a provincial park, pack up someone's car, and just go. an hour and a half north-west of our city, near a pair of rivers, dealing with battery issues in our friend's ancient mercury topaz. six hours east, across a provincial border, to pick me up after a weekend with my new girlfriend (now my longtime partner). we camped for two days. i developed a terrible case of the runs. i popped imodiums and we kept a close watch for deer ticks (in retrospect, this might've been the least enjoyable one).
the ones not taken: three or four days south-west to visit one of my oldest friends, who i've known online for decades, never met in person. three days east to the edge of the country, to visit a girl who visited me one summer. these were both more wishful than anything else; i didn't have $400 for a flight, how on earth would i have money for food and gas both ways? but i wish i had. who knows how my life would've changed. but the stories, i think, would've been something.