I remember having one of those Pioneer 6 disc CD changers. I had Disintegration as disc number two, for some reason that had a signficance then, but one I can't recall now. This song was a perfect to ruminate upon life as I knew it as an angst-filled teenager. The steady solemn strumming.

I went to an electronic music camp at Oberlin, and in between sessions, I remember these older cats walking through the cemetery. They offered me beer & cigarettes; I took them up on the former and neglected the latter. We'd listen to this song while walking around town. I remember being the only Black kid in this camp and other Black kids wondering what I was doing with these high school & college students (I was 13).

Sometimes when floating in this song, the words wash over me like a wave; others, I can see the wave, but it's going in another direction, not headed towards me. I do love Robert Smith's voice though. It breaks, it haunts, it creeps and yet remains. Once the vocals end, and the song slowly but inevitably winds down, I can ponder the beginning, duration, and ending of all things.

One thing; the next time I walk and listen to this song in the rain, I'll have an umbrella.