I first heard this song one fevered night that I was driving to L.A. the long way around, up I-15, somewhere between Escondido and Temecula. Mix Master Mike was DJ’ing Spin Psycle.

It was also the first song that played on my iPod as I drove away from my ex-girlfriend’s wedding reception, leaving me with a curiously empty feeling that has been magnified over the past few years. (My soul seems to have curled up upon itself, what with the trial-by-fire that is residency training. The lost nights of sleep, the hours locked up in the hospital, the train wreck patients that run you over as they careen towards their inevitable deaths, unheeding of anything that you might do. These things alone have consumed my life, leaving me numb and unfeeling. But I digress. I’ll only briefly mention that there have been brief sparks of hope that flared then quickly died, stillborn in my confused mind.)

(I think I’ve forgotten how to have fun. Not the desperate “fun” that EtOH provides, but honest-to-goodness, actual fun. As a consequence, I rarely have anything interesting to say to anyone that doesn’t involve work. As a corollary, I rarely have any thoughts about what might make a fun date. Hence, this continuing solitary existence of which I can see no feasible way out of, at least in this life.)

What is interesting is that this song is used as the theme song for that hospital drama “House, M.D.” Disturbingly, just like those train wreck patients that have left indelible marks all over my soul, I find myself careening down a track that will lead me to a fate akin to Hugh Laurie’s dramatis persona, except I doubt that I’ll have a cute intern who will moon over me. My only hope is that I don’t get hooked on Oxycodone like the good doctor on T.V.