JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

You know Last Song Syndrome, where the last song you hear keeps playing in your head and you can’t make it stop? Well I often have First Song Syndrome—I wake up and there’s a song already playing in my head and it just keeps on going. It is usually a song I have not heard in a long time. Days later, I hear that same song being played somewhere—in a restaurant, over the end credits of a movie, that sort of thing. Could be just coincidence, yes, but I’m inclined to think otherwise. I’m from the school of “Everything means something, the refusal to say anything means something, nothing is something.” (See the Coen Brothers, below.)

Sometimes I remember conversations I haven’t had yet. For instance, I distinctly remember Chus telling me that Myrza (of Marie-Claire) had won a Palanca for short story. He ran into her, and she told him the good news. (This would be in August 2006.) I remember which restaurant we had this conversation in (Segafredo Greenbelt, now closed), where we were seated (by the window), and what time it was (around 6.30pm). Weeks later, I told Chus I was gatecrashing the awards dinner the next day (September 1), and I’d probably see Myrza.

Why, Chus asked, Did she win? Of course she did, I said, You told me. No I didn’t, he said, I didn’t know she’d won. We spent the next 15 minutes arguing over who said what. Finally Chus called Myrza and asked her if she’d won a Palanca.

Myrza said, No, I haven’t heard from them. Chus said, Maybe you should call their office to make sure. Meanwhile I’m sitting there thinking, Did I imagine this? Am I going bonkers? But I’m certain that Chus told me that Myrza had told him. There was no one else I could’ve gotten the news from—I wasn’t privy to the judging process and I’m not in with the awards people.

The following morning Chus called me. Myrza had called the Palanca office, he said, and it turns out she did win a prize! (The guard in her building put the letter in a drawer and forgot it.) So the information I “remembered” was correct, except that it was delivered backwards. Weird, but according to Special Relativity, everything that will happen has already happened anyway.

Back to FSS. I woke up this morning and “Jacksons, Monk and Rowe” by Elvis Costello and The Brodsky Quartet was playing in my head, loud and clear. It’s a very pretty song about divorce, not likely to have been blaring out of a passing jeep, not on the typical radio playlist. It’s on my iPod but I haven’t listened to it in a long time. But there are worse things to have in your head.