I remember very distinctly putting the CD-R into my walkman. I remember just as clearly the experience of doing the dishes while I listened to the music of Neutral Milk Hotel. I remember rinsing them, loading them into the dishwasher, and everything. I remember that I was mad at my dad.

I went into my room when my task was done, put the CD player down on my dresser, and sat down at my desk. I was considering writing, but first wanted to know what was in my stereo. So I opened it up, and there was a nameless CD-R inside–just like the one I was sure I had been listening to in my walkman only minutes before. I turned the stereo on and there it was: the music of Neutral Milk Hotel. I opened my walkman. It was empty.

I ran out into the living room, shouting incoherently. I did my best to explain all this, step by step. When I was finished, they were convinced that I had simply put the CD in and forgotten about it. But I would have had to forget it in the space of twenty seconds. I’m not THAT stupid. And I was mad at the time. I don’t DO things while I’m mad, such as putting a CD that was in one thing into another thing. I sit down and be mad.

They don’t believe me, and I could rationalize that I am indeed stupid or out of my mind. But I’m not stupid, I’ve only ever been slightly out of my mind, and I don’t believe in rationalizations.