I’m loving music these days. I snagged the boy’s iPod (mine’s one of the og versions, therefore it’s melting in a five pound puddle somewhere beneath my bed) and blasted it the whole walk this morning.
It’s probably because last night we caught Junior Boys in all their electric glory at Bowery Ballroom.
It was awesome, reminiscent of a childhood I’m too young to have. Synthesizers, white suits, that melodic sort of whisper. It really was fantastic.
Even more so was the dancing. Horrible and incredible, born from jerky elbows and swooping head movements (is there any way else to dance to nouveau eighties?).
I promised myself for the hundredth time to go to more shows. I always float out of there, half-skipping actually, and I hear myself saying, “I want to only do this with my life.”
That temporary shot of being a creature of the night, giddy past my bedtime, slithering the streets of New York in a shadow-pack, where all we care about is being young and beating up our bodies in the name of being young and beating up our bodies. We’d smoke all the time, sleep where we’d fall, and dance horribly for the next six years, until we’re thirty I’d think, and then, all of a sudden, we’d clean up, slap on some Banana Republic and resume lives as productive members of society.
Today, I want that more than anything. I just want to keep floating, forget the inevitable sink. I keep repeating that saying.
Life fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse…
That damn iPod. Giving me delusions of youth…
As much as he wants to deny it, I’m dating a bonafide hipster. The downside is the collections upon collections of neon sneakers I trip over in our room. The upside is the music.
Right now, I also like Islands, Rogue Wave, and repeating the Panther video over and over again (please turn up the sound on this last one, and just try not to wet yourself laughing).
It’s probably because last night we caught Junior Boys in all their electric glory at Bowery Ballroom.
It was awesome, reminiscent of a childhood I’m too young to have. Synthesizers, white suits, that melodic sort of whisper. It really was fantastic.
Even more so was the dancing. Horrible and incredible, born from jerky elbows and swooping head movements (is there any way else to dance to nouveau eighties?).
I promised myself for the hundredth time to go to more shows. I always float out of there, half-skipping actually, and I hear myself saying, “I want to only do this with my life.”
That temporary shot of being a creature of the night, giddy past my bedtime, slithering the streets of New York in a shadow-pack, where all we care about is being young and beating up our bodies in the name of being young and beating up our bodies. We’d smoke all the time, sleep where we’d fall, and dance horribly for the next six years, until we’re thirty I’d think, and then, all of a sudden, we’d clean up, slap on some Banana Republic and resume lives as productive members of society.
Today, I want that more than anything. I just want to keep floating, forget the inevitable sink. I keep repeating that saying.
Life fast, die young, leave a good-looking corpse…
That damn iPod. Giving me delusions of youth…
As much as he wants to deny it, I’m dating a bonafide hipster. The downside is the collections upon collections of neon sneakers I trip over in our room. The upside is the music.
Right now, I also like Islands, Rogue Wave, and repeating the Panther video over and over again (please turn up the sound on this last one, and just try not to wet yourself laughing).
2 comments:
nice
I have a dead iPod, too:(
And I <3 RW!
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