by Jillian Butler, Ampersandology
What's happening in my corner of the world? Besides the obvious, I mean. Allow me the following indulgence. I WILL SHOW YOU IN SONG!
New Projects and Preoccupations
As portrayed by Belle & Sebastian's "Wrapped Up in Books"
What with school and words and the company I keep, this song is basically the anthem of the last six months of my life. Without the guy on the keyboard. And with considerably more berets.
This is the portion of the self-indulgent post when I look longingly at my bookshelf, now offensively stuffed with titles; at this point, my apartment is basically the opposite of Ellis Island in the 1890s. There's no room for you, little immigrant books. And yet, instead of turning them away, I just push them against the wall and, with a sticky note, assign them a title that better suits my whims. Huh. Actually, that sounds a lot like Ellis Island.
I, as usual, digress. In other news, Belle & Sebastian is the love that never ends in my heart. I first saw them in Glasgow. When I missed them here last month, my heart turned the color of sorrow that no detergent can remove. Every Belle & Sebastian song takes place either in:
a) a bookstore
b) a bridge
c) the past
Because these places have a generic importance to me, I think they should in fact add me to their band. I can play the tambourine, and have sort of learned the ukelele. In addition, I have an excellent knack for earnestness when I'm permitted to channel it ironically. And remember before, when I mentioned berets? I really wasn't kidding. I have two. I'm so committed to this aesthetic it hurts.
So in a nutshell, I'm working on a bunch of new project,s but I'm a miser of information and keep it hush-hush. Sometimes my mind thinks it's Soviet Russia and everyone else is the American people and what's at stake is the Iron Curtain. Hint: the metaphor only works if you accept it at face value. Moving on.
A Musing on My Use of Public Transportation
As portrayed by Pulp's "Common People"
So I usually hum this to myself when I'm on the bus. Yeah. I've been driving since I was still jailbait, so my newfound dependence on public transportation is like an eye-opening montage. It keeps feeling like a lingering anthropological experiment--I see and learn so much about like, humanity and stuff. Did you know people think that trimming their fingernails on the bus is not only a time-saver, but also super pleasant to those around them? I did not until recently.
I keep wondering if it's really offensive that this song keeps inserting into my iPod's shuffle. Then I decide that who cares, Pulp is awesome. First World Problem, 0. My sense of worth, FIVE TRILLION. Entitlement level unlocked!
In all seriousness, travel of any kind always soothes me, and moreso in the last six months when I've become so dependent on it. There's a comfort in physically moving your person from Place Here to Place Else. No matter where you go, there you are. Plus, when you're not driving, yo, you can read. Is this situation made of win? I think I just answered my own question. (ps. THE ANSWER IS WIN)
My Super-Sneaky Shoutout
As portrayed by The National's "England"
Wouldn't you like to know.
FUN ADDITIONAL FACT! If I woke up trapped in the video of Pulp's This is Hardcore on an endless loop for the rest of my natural existence, like you know in Groundhog Day, when Bill Murray keeps waking up in the same day, and eventually learns the secrets of the townspeople and robs banks and--well, anyway, if I was stuck in this video, that would be great. That would be the existential crisis to beat.
The first time my brother saw this video, he was silent for a long time; then he said, in a quiet somber voice, "Now I finally understand. This is the language you speak, the shapes you see. This is the battery from which your brain saps its momentum. Now, finally, I can warn the others."
I'm paraphrasing, of course, but you get the idea.
What's happening in my corner of the world? Besides the obvious, I mean. Allow me the following indulgence. I WILL SHOW YOU IN SONG!
New Projects and Preoccupations
As portrayed by Belle & Sebastian's "Wrapped Up in Books"
What with school and words and the company I keep, this song is basically the anthem of the last six months of my life. Without the guy on the keyboard. And with considerably more berets.
This is the portion of the self-indulgent post when I look longingly at my bookshelf, now offensively stuffed with titles; at this point, my apartment is basically the opposite of Ellis Island in the 1890s. There's no room for you, little immigrant books. And yet, instead of turning them away, I just push them against the wall and, with a sticky note, assign them a title that better suits my whims. Huh. Actually, that sounds a lot like Ellis Island.
I, as usual, digress. In other news, Belle & Sebastian is the love that never ends in my heart. I first saw them in Glasgow. When I missed them here last month, my heart turned the color of sorrow that no detergent can remove. Every Belle & Sebastian song takes place either in:
a) a bookstore
b) a bridge
c) the past
Because these places have a generic importance to me, I think they should in fact add me to their band. I can play the tambourine, and have sort of learned the ukelele. In addition, I have an excellent knack for earnestness when I'm permitted to channel it ironically. And remember before, when I mentioned berets? I really wasn't kidding. I have two. I'm so committed to this aesthetic it hurts.
So in a nutshell, I'm working on a bunch of new project,s but I'm a miser of information and keep it hush-hush. Sometimes my mind thinks it's Soviet Russia and everyone else is the American people and what's at stake is the Iron Curtain. Hint: the metaphor only works if you accept it at face value. Moving on.
A Musing on My Use of Public Transportation
As portrayed by Pulp's "Common People"
So I usually hum this to myself when I'm on the bus. Yeah. I've been driving since I was still jailbait, so my newfound dependence on public transportation is like an eye-opening montage. It keeps feeling like a lingering anthropological experiment--I see and learn so much about like, humanity and stuff. Did you know people think that trimming their fingernails on the bus is not only a time-saver, but also super pleasant to those around them? I did not until recently.
I keep wondering if it's really offensive that this song keeps inserting into my iPod's shuffle. Then I decide that who cares, Pulp is awesome. First World Problem, 0. My sense of worth, FIVE TRILLION. Entitlement level unlocked!
In all seriousness, travel of any kind always soothes me, and moreso in the last six months when I've become so dependent on it. There's a comfort in physically moving your person from Place Here to Place Else. No matter where you go, there you are. Plus, when you're not driving, yo, you can read. Is this situation made of win? I think I just answered my own question. (ps. THE ANSWER IS WIN)
My Super-Sneaky Shoutout
As portrayed by The National's "England"
Wouldn't you like to know.
*
FUN ADDITIONAL FACT! If I woke up trapped in the video of Pulp's This is Hardcore on an endless loop for the rest of my natural existence, like you know in Groundhog Day, when Bill Murray keeps waking up in the same day, and eventually learns the secrets of the townspeople and robs banks and--well, anyway, if I was stuck in this video, that would be great. That would be the existential crisis to beat.
The first time my brother saw this video, he was silent for a long time; then he said, in a quiet somber voice, "Now I finally understand. This is the language you speak, the shapes you see. This is the battery from which your brain saps its momentum. Now, finally, I can warn the others."
I'm paraphrasing, of course, but you get the idea.
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