Against All Odds

I mentioned a few posts ago how the dance was welling up inside me. It's still in there, waiting to tear some shit up. In the meantime, a song started to brew deep within the cockles of my heart. The most excellent "Against All Odds" by Phil Collins. Just look at that picture. Do you see the intensity? Phil does not fuck around.

This American Life's "Breakups" show is responsible. You should go listen to that. It's Ira Glass' fault that I've had this song running through my mind. I can still picture the video too.

"Against All Odds" has been torturing me. I heard it everywhere. I saw it in people's faces; they morph into Phil. This is disturbing. I saw a couple making out yesterday and I wanted to just go up next to them and start singing "How can you just walk away from me?" They were really going at it though. I was afraid they wouldn't hear me. "Against All Odds" should not be wasted. If only I had a mic. And those drum pants! I could bring Phil wherever, whenever.

Sweet dreams.

That was then. This is now: Phil is gone. I've destroyed him and "Against All Odds." Phil has been released from my secret chamber. I thank Winnie.

I took Phil downtown to Chinatown and fucked it up. I tore it up like a voracious wolf. A tiger! A manatee loose in New York City and taking no shit! (I sincerely apologize for the profanity but you need to understand how serious this situation was.)

1 a.m. marked the momentous release of "Against All Odds" belted out, nay screamed at top lung, free in the universe.

Godspeed Phil.

In sum, songs like the most excellent "Against All Odds" need to be destroyed, Bruce Lee style. Rock it if you got it.