Willy DeVille - "Assassin of Love"

Engaged to a well-bred blonde beauty and with a promising career in science before him, Andrew McCarthy forsakes everything, crossing the tracks (and, in the process, his best friend, Ben Stiller) to pursue an impossible affair with Molly Ringwald, a married, unrefined sixteen-year-old. Emilio Estevez drives hours in a blizzard to track down Dr. Andie MacDowell, only to find her at a ski lodge with her boyfriend; he accepts that his romantic obsession is doomed, but kisses her anyway, and she, in her white cable-knit sweater, nearly invisible in the falling snow, kisses him back. In the back seat of his car, John Cusack lies next to the perfect, porcelain Ione Skye, naked, post-coital, shaking.

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Nina Simone - "Turn Me On"

I've gone to bed at midnight, at 2 a.m. and 4. I've dozed off at 9 in the morning and 2 in the afternoon, hit the sack at dinnertime and woken up at dawn. I've seen the remotest hours, those at the farthest reaches of time, when the radio plays silence and the tv test patterns, the internet is down and all the books blank, hours when real aloneness is possible, when there's nothing to do but wait for the world's return. In those times, the mind's wont to wonder and on a recent such morning mine turned to the creation of a list of songs likely composed in temporal isolation. But tired as I was I didn't get past the first item -- this song of similes, as simple as ... And before I'd finished playing it, I heard through my bedroom window the soporific swell and decay of the morning's first passing car.

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