A funny thing happened today.
This morning as I was getting ready to go to work and went looking for something at the book rack, I saw a cassette tape. Now, finding cassette tapes is nothing unusual especially since I used a lot of them to record things. The unusual thing about it was the handwriting on the label. It wasn’t mine. It wasn’t my sister’s. It was someone else’s.
Now, again, what is so unusual about that, you may say? Several things. Firstly, I had no idea that this tape existed. Secondly, I have given tapes to people in past only for one of the two following reasons: (1) to persuade them to listen to something that they otherwise will never listen to; or, as most of the case (2) to say something using someone else’s poetry.
When I saw the tape, and subsequently recognized the handwriting after putting some thought into it, I knew that it was there for the second reason. Trouble was I don’t remember receiving, nor do I remember playing it so I suspect it must have been given to me either in a moment when I was barely paying attention or left in my belongings with the hope that I would notice its existence someday.
I played the tape but Ita had re-recorded things on top of it. I tried rewinding and forwarding to find anything that was originally recorded and found an unfamiliar modern rock song in side B. It was something that I have never heard and definitely something that Ita doesn’t listen to. The song itself was nothing spectacular. The melody was simple and unremarkable, remisniscent of the many modern rock songs that you have heard countless times over the radio.
I wasn’t sure what the tape was supposed to convey but I had a pretty good idea. I remembered what this person had said to me the last time we spoke. He said I was too late. I had my chance. When he said it then, I was furious. Too late for what? What chance? What the hell was he talking about? What did I miss?
I am sure there is a moral somewhere in this story but will leave it to you to figure it out.