Bron-Bron to New York maybe, Elena Kagan’s preference of sexual intercourse partner somehow means something, trappin may be dead at this point, and the color of the sky above has changed, but nothing else matters on May 13 except for the fact that the god Stevie was born on this very day in 1950. If you think of a way to capture in language the influence of this man, you’re kind of a jerk for trying but I’m jealous of your ability. (PS, call me; we should probably be sleeping together).
This is the best song I could think of to post, because of each beautiful and perfect note from that clavinet, and because Bobbito played it right after “Tears of a Clown” at Wonderfull ’05 and it made me collapse right there on the floor, a quivering mass of estrogen and joy. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say, except when you’re talking about the Stevie Wonder catalogue.
“We Can Work It Out.” Saginaw > Liverpool.