Clarice Listpector once wrote: “Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad because what is fully mature is very close to rotting”
That’s basically where I’m at with all of this.
2015: I was 23. I was writing music reviews without a care in the world. I had opinions and I was happy to share. I lived in Chicago. Things were great. The traffic was flowing in.
2017: I am 25. I am miserable. Literally no opinions. Literally bad taste. No traffic. No review. Things are bad. I live in stupid Hollywood. How did this happen?
I am rotting from the inside out like dumb fruit. I play video games and cry some days. Other days I punch palm trees until my knuckles bleed.
In my time of desperation, I return to you, dear readers, and you, dumb musicians. I return to my most recent memory of The Happy. Forgive me.
You thought you got away with it didn’t you?
Thought you could gaaaame the system.
You went over 2 years without being noticed.
I bet at first you lost sleep over the guilt. I bet at first you were lookin over your shoulder every day. But by now, you’re probably sleepin just fine, huh? You probably think you’re home clear.
Fuckin wrong, bozo. I found you out:
This is some shit, B.
I have over 700 albums to review. seh-ven-hun-dred-al-bums-beeeeen.
And you thought you could sneak in two? People have been waiting YEARS for me to review their work and you want me to review two albums? Fuck outa here with that yahoo email address man.
Are your albums both beautiful and haunting reminders of what it means to grow up and be nostalgic for what no longer can be? Maybe. But 2 rights do not correct a wrong, Ben.
“2+5=i” is a bad lyric. Please review and amend.
Sorry. I mean, I think I’m being a little unfair. Does your music remind of my own aging body and it’s inability to escape the entropy of the universe? Sure. Am I forced to find meaning in the mundane day-to-day and live every day as if there are none left because of your music? I mean, sure, I guess. So like, I guess what I mean to say is that I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed. Really fucking disappointed.
“Life is weird, but so is death”. Word, Ben. Word.