Blame it on the Tetons.

Isn’t it fascinating how the first time you listened to a song, it gets imprinted somehow?

And every time you listen to it after that, it takes you back to that place?
Just for the slightest fragment of a moment, enough to tease you.
Leaving you a little uplifted. Maybe a little sad.
Because you can’t go back. But the moment just returned to say ‘hey, remember when…?”

I’m listening to Blame it on the Tetons by Modest Mouse.
On a train between Cannes and Antibes. Looking at scenery flying by through scratched up windows, getting far from the madness of adland, beer, ego and expectation.

A very good year for our agency that year.
Crazy.

Most advertising people that have been to Cannes will understand what it’s like when you’ve had enough, usually by about Thursday and you head up the tracks Monaco way.
Where the ad people are replaced by genuine tourists. Refreshing.

Headphones on. Nowhere really to go, just to go.
Some of the best journeys you can take don’t really have a destination.

Everyone’s a building burning 
with no one to put the fire out. 
Standing at the window looking out, 
waiting for time to burn us down. 
Everyone’s an ocean drowning 
with no one really to show how. 
They might get a little better air 
if they turned themselves into a cloud.

Gorgeous.

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