Late December of last year I experienced the death of a loved one for the first time. I had been lucky up to that point – I have a full set of biological grandparents and even my childhood dog and cat are still alive (albeit barely, bless their hearts).Dealing with the passing of a friend who was still young obviously has different repercussions than that of an older person who has lived a long and fulfilling life. There were other factors that made this experience especially painful: the fact that this person had recently succumbed to drug addiction (he didn't die from his vices but rather a comedown-related suicide attempt via over-the-counter meds). It led to intensive care and days of suffering for him and us, which eventually released.He was not only a old friend but a former partner of mine. Through his death, a high-school-era relationship that ended under pretty normal causes seven years ago was resuscitated in full color and stereo.It came to a head at his memorial, as I pored over photos from our trip for the first time since they were developed. A 4x6 of the two of us, with sloppily-dyed pink hair, squinting into each others' faces with a stately horizon behind us.Our relationship was so tightly wound around music that I could easily build an anthology of songs that remind him of me in one way or another. There are the classic rock songs of our parents that brought us together. (Rush, Styx, Creedence.) The tapes passed back and forth while we were apart (From 17-year-old me: mostly sentimental emo-pop. From him: conscientious hip-hop, Discount and Sean Lennon.) The songs that built the soundtrack to our counter-clockwise trip across the country (Northwestern late-90s indie, and a thick combination of the above.) And an unfortunate addendum: all of those forlorn drug songs (Neil Young, mostly). But the song I'm posting isn't any of those. It's a song from a Hum record I unearthed and wanted to rediscover. In fact, when I looked up the lyrics I was expecting a breakup song. What I hit upon did a good job of relating the compulsive and looping thoughts of him, which continue to pop up at odd moments. A time machine that won't power down.I come to you all dressed in sound.Bluebirds stripping wires to the ground,connected to a time machine that will not power down.Set the crosshairs back on one.You said we'd only die here in the sun.The way your headstone shines,I only wish that it was mine.So set the crosshairs back on one,and nail the loop that brings the second run,past the wished on charms,through the lens back to your living arms.This time machine won't power down.and this time machine won't power down.And still the crosshairs rest on one.And still you rest here in the morning sun,And still I fumble throughpages of constructions on the line.I like the clone of sound you found.I like the way it feels here coming down.The way your headstone shinesI only wish that it was mine.