For today, I love the music of Andrew Bird , who considers himself to be a professional whistler, and who sings soft things about measuring cups with words like ‘there will be snacks there.’ Give albums ‘The Mysterious Production of Eggs’ and ‘Armchair Apocrypha’ a serious listen. Thank goodness, I just discovered, he looks like this:
ie, he poses flippantly with large instruments, which is strangely similar to this:
HaHA. Hello, the copycat.
Also, today, well, okay, EVERY day EVER – I hate jean skirts.
Please, girlfanbase, don’t wear them, ever. Why would you do this denimed thing to yourself? This stiff, sticky thing that pretty much – well – never looks NOT 1998 and is guaranteed to make your butt sweat excessively? It is pretty much also guaranteed to do the thing where it twists around as you walk and the butt pocket creeps to your front zone. I swore them off years ago. Ladies, you should too.
Finally – today – i feel conflicted – ie I like and do NOT like – the fact that I’m starting a new job tommorrow. It’s nice to not have to worry about employment for a minute – that was getting old but – I feel like my life is over now. I feel like I’ve given in. I did the math, and honestly, I don’t even know if it’s going to be enough money off of which to live, especially once loan payments kick in. Eh. Is it so wrong to think or feel like I’m destined for greatness? That is so arrogant and unrealistic but – I have really always felt it. I guess we shall see if said ‘greatness’ occurs.
I think more importantly I need to stop being such a CUNextTuesday, like I have been recently, I feel. A total grumblepuss. Where did joy go? It went. I think I forgot it at Gristede’s. I usually am not one to not feel joy.
What’s going on? I don’t know.
Regardless, tommorrow I begin work. Jean skirts will NOT be worn, Andrew Bird will be hearkened, and perhaps joy will be found somewhere between here and 8 west 38th st.
Even this very blog lacks joy. Ugh.
But there are momentary ways to force fleeting Joy, which I will do now: