This afternoon, I saw this post on Craigslist (recorded here for posterity):

Free Sigur Ros Tickets
So, here’s what you have to do… Send me a short essay (500 words or less) on why you feel you should receive the tickets. Tell me about yourself, your musical tastes, a funny anecdote from your life, whatever you feel like sharing. I will select the most impressive essays by Monday morning and if one of those essays happens to be yours, you will receive an invitation to attend the show for free with me. No strings attached.

I sent my essay in this afternoon. Does it make sense? Does it matter? I’ll let you know if I win.

My Attempt at Sigur Ros Tickets

I’m in the park the other day, and I see this rabbit. It’s totally white, which I think is weird, because come on, we live in Chicago, you know? How can a rabbit stay totally white? Even if it doesn’t bother with the normal rabbit rolling in the hay (they do a lot of that, I hear), it has to get a little dirty sometimes, running from dogs or whatever city rabbits do. But no, this one in front of me is totally, completely white.

And it looks at me. Like right at me. Animals, especially city animals, usually don’t care who the hell you are, unless you’ve got food, and even then they usually don’t give a shit. But this one, this rabbit, zoned right in on me and stared. I mean stared like a human. “Come here,” it said.

I’m not crazy. I know rabbits don’t talk. But I heard those words and I know they came from the rabbit. I took a few steps forward, my feet shuffling the ground. It blinked, grabbed a blade of grass, chewed, and stared at me again. A few steps closer. Why didn’t it run away? Was it not scared of me?

“Come closer.” I did. “Closer. Down here.” I bent over, got on my hands and knees. My fingers dug into the green, pungent grass. I thought to look around, to see if anyone saw me on all fours, leaning my ear down to a completely white rabbit, but I didn’t look. I couldn’t escape his rabbity eyes, his velvety translucent pelt, that hypnotic non-voice.

“What is it?” I whispered. I was entranced by this holy ball of fur, who had entreated me to come closer, to kneel down to him like some blessed varmint god.

And then he spoke. He really spoke. And this time, his little rabbit lips moved. I swear this happened.

He said “Sigur Ros.”

Later that day I see your message on CL.

I can’t explain it, but dude. Meant to be, dude. Meant to be.