Three Minutes

Three minutes is a great little package of time: perfect for a soft boiled egg and just about right for a pop song too. My friend C. used to have a book (probably still does) called something like "How to Write Pop Songs." I wonder if there was a chapter in that book about song length. In the back of my mind I think that was initially related to the size of a 45 record? Maybe, but it also seems good for attention span with still enough time to develop and repeat a catchy musical theme.

I'm not convinced, however, that three minutes is a good amount of time for a date. Tonight I am signed up to "Speed Date" and can't say I'm looking forward to it. I think three minutes will seem like an eternity with someone I'm not attracted to, not enough time with someone I'm uncertain of, and cruelly short with someone I actually like. The whole process is also degrading and embarrassing to be honest (and what do we do about degrading and embarrassing life experiences in 2010? Write about them on a stupid blog!)

I find myself day dreaming about what I wish I was doing after work tonight: getting a bottle of wine, going home and rolling up the meatballs I'm planning to make, listening to a series of three minute songs, watching the State of the Union address, working on my sewing projects.

That sounds so much better than going to a bar at the Merchandise Mart Holiday Inn to meet a bunch a strangers for three minutes and jot things down on a card in order to remember and vote on them at the end of the night. I'm imaging things like:

Big nose accountant with dog.
Windbag who is impressed with very big pond in his backyard.
Cute if I squint guy who smells like salami.
Bald boob-gawker.