It's so sad when the best part of your day is when (and if) the Popcorn song comes on. I only have around 1,200 songs on my iPod, but that still doesn't seem so few that Popcorn would appear on shuffle about every three days. Just yesterday morning I was thinking about how great it makes my commute and wondered when it would appear next, and on the way home, just as I got on the G (yeah, I've been experimenting with the G from midtown which is retarded, I know. It seems silly if you live in Brooklyn to go from Manhattan into Queens and then into Brooklyn. But I've tested my normal route, the V to the F home or E to the A to the F, depending on if the V or E shows up first at my station, in comparison and it's exactly the same, if not five minutes faster at times. So, now I've added excitement to my return commute [it only works Brooklyn-bound, in the morning, it's a mess] and take whichever train comes first in either direction. I only have to take the E or V one stop to Long Island City and then it's gamble because the G might sit there for ten minutes or move as soon as you sit down [yes, you almost always get a seat since it's the end of the line–there's something twisted about riding a train from end to end–Carroll Gardens is the southbound terminus] but it's a chance I'm willing to take) it poked its jaunty head between Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah and Galaxie 500. I totally associate "Popcorn" with the G train. I like it when random crap I completely forgot I loaded like Limahl's "Neverending Story" and Duran Duran's "Hold Back the Rain" (very dramatic song when your standing on the subway, or anywhere else for that matter). Anybody–which seems to be everybody these days–who listens to portable music is aware of the happy accidents and incongruity of what you're hearing and what you're seeing. In the late '90s when NYC was fresh to me, I always got a kick out of super sappy songs from If You're Feeling Sinister like "Fox in the Snow" while on the blue collar/Eastern European heavy M train (I'd venture to argue that the M is even more of a bastard child than the G). Which reminds me, I'll be seeing Belle & Sebastian next week thanks to a kind friend who bought a ticket. I haven't seen them since 1998 when I met Henry Thomas face to face, my dreams were dashed, and then my life began lacking purpose. Maybe seeing them seven years later will right all the wrongs of last near decade.