Five minutes or less: I couldn't think of what to say

Oh, the languorousness of this first single off the fifth, overall kinda meh TT album! Up to the incongruous DD-style bridge--no wonder, as with "The Reflex," Alex Sadkin produced the album/track, which Nile Rodgers came in and zhuzhed (Chic-ed?) up--it's delightful. Unlike "Doctor! Doctor!," which, when played on the radio, I would gaze up at my DD poster hung in the angled ceiling of my closet, this track was reserved for thinking about 3D humans that you'd see putting books into lockers and kicking soccer balls. The songs, Irish twins released only 11 months apart in the same year, illustrate the difference between a teen in 8th grade (and at the end of 8 long years in the same grade school) and a teen in high school. Still moony-eyed when expensive synths play exotic sounds, but with different objects of the gaze.

I was in a terrible mood today ("life seems much too long," etc.) up until (sidestepping the obvious puns) I heard this track. 

Babe, tomorrow's so far away

What the hell do you do when, suddenly, tomorrow is presenting itself to you as a reality? And you can be done with certain ways of being, thinking, and words (bubbledropletcasespreadrestrictionmandatory) at a time within reasonable expectation? When you can have expectations? 

Shit, there is real freedom in not expecting anything to happen. But when you're doing it for so long that, maybe, anything may not actually make you happy any more (if it did at all), what does make you happy?

What happens when you can't connect to that cellular-level feeling that, yup, something good is going to happen, I am going to go to X dance or walk by Y's locker and they or the events are going to respond in kind. The kind of feeling that makes someone say, I'm going to surprise you or be surprised by what happens, but I will like it?  

Around 86, it was always all about longing for the Big Moments. And they happened. And if they didn't, you at least had the longing to caress and nurture with the wails of multi-tracked guitars and gooey lyrics, until another song or Y to long for replaced it.

But now is now, and there are no lockers to linger-while-you're-walking by, and you can't conceive of events because you've been in an event horizon for months. Is tomorrow too late?