when i was 15, high-speed internet connections and cd burners were still a distant dream. with no friends into good music, no driver's license, and only beach-cruiser access to the nearest tower records, i was like Columbus without a ship. i knew that distant shores held promising treasures, but i had no way to get to them. occasional news reports would wash ashore, but still i had no access.

then, one day, i read a "desert island disc" list by a kindred soul in Pulse magazine (the tower records freebie throwaway) from a girl in cupertino california. she circumvented the typical beatles / beach boys / neil young / no-thought-required / fodder lists for fresh releases by the likes of the soup dragons (pre-"i'm free" crap), primal scream (pre-everything you've heard basically), and razorcuts. releases by subway and creation records. i knew and loved half of them. it killed me that i hadn't heard the other half.

unable to contact her by any direct means (you can't just send a letter to "robin in cupertino, ca"), i repied via Pulse with my own list. all new stuff that i was listening to (and it's all new when you are 15). and i only listed songs. to hell with full-length cds. give me three minutes and get lost. "stephanie says" by the velvet underground. "talulah gosh" by talulah gosh. "whole wide world" by the soup dragons. "temptation" by new order. "what do i get" by the buzzcocks.

i sent my genius list away with full address intact, hoping she would write to me directly. and, unlike most male adolescent dreams, this one actually came true. within weeks i had a reply from my new friend, complete with a mix tape of bands i'd read about but never heard. bubblegum splash. the flatmates. the rosehips. felt. etc. all of my future favorites. we became instant pen-pals and swapped tapes for a few years until we both moved on (i still have her to thank for "you made me realise" by my bloody valentine, which, along with "you trip me up" by the jesus and mary chain, some talulah gosh singles, and the velvet underground & nico, really set the wheels in motion).

yesterday i had a dinner (she likes to call it "supper") conversation with a good friend about having people in your life that feed you with ideas or music or books or films or jokes or energy or inspiration or love or whatever. people that add to you, not subtract from you. and today i woke up missing my friend robin. i miss the spirit of her. i miss that she always had something new for me and that i (fortunately) always had something new back for her. and that we compounded each other.

and maybe i'm getting old now (yes, indeed), but sometimes i feel like that 15 year old Columbus on the shore again, knowing that there is something more out there that i don't know about. something that i would enjoy. and i feel left out. i know that there are people with new ideas, funny jokes, and new ways of looking at things that i don't know. and, though i'm still insanely grateful for the people around me, i crave these people, and hope i always do.

so, what is it about the thrill of the new? is it just me or does the human spirit thrive on it? why when i receive an email from a friend about a girl she wants to line me up with do i still have a certain surge of excitement in spite of having a horrid blind date history? true, it's partially because i trust my friend, but it's also partially because the unknown is so strangely enticing. maybe i'll hate her (and she me). or, maybe i won't give it a second thought. or, maybe i'll be totally into her. in a way, the world becomes my oyster once again. and when the email says things like "she travelled around the world for six months after college" and "she just moved here and doesn't know anyone", i see the signs of a fellow seeker and i love the seekers, the searchers, the discoverers, the Columbuses (Columbii?). i love the people that say "have you thought about this?", "have you heard this?", "have you read this?", "have you eaten this?", "have you seen this?", "have you ever felt this way?", or, simply, "so, this guy walks into a bar...".

and as the years pass by, i still crave the new just as much as i did half-a-lifetime ago.

i hope my good friend robin is still out there, making new friends, making new connections, finding new songs, conjurring up new ideas, enjoying life. long live the seekers, stars in their eyes...