1. man, there is cold and then there is right now. walking home from white hen, which is pretty much the same thing as walking home from the train, which is to say, not very far, my hands--in their gloves--actually became sort of numb. i mean, i have worse circulation than your nana's nana, but somehow i don't think that was the primary contributing factor today. makes me doubly thankful for my comfortable, centrally-heated apartment, and doubly worried about those without. say some extra prayers for the homeless, if you do that sort of thing. i know i will be.
2. on a less-serious note, i'm pretty sure i engaged in a similar rant about this time last year, or maybe the last couple of years, but seriously: WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH HIPSTER DOUCHEBAGS AND THEIR IRRATIONAL REFUSAL TO WEAR COATS, EVER? i was waiting for the bus this morning with this dude who was wearing this thin narrow jacket and no gloves whatsoever. i watched him fidget with his ipod*, trying to look nonchalant as he clenched in the face of the wind. i wanted to shake him and shout, "hey fucktard! this isn't quadrophenia, it's chicago. and it's three degrees out." meanwhile, i'm toasty in the columbia ski jacket i got at, like, jc penney's five years ago, that i was decidedly not too proud to wear. not that i haven't been known to place fashion ahead of function, even very recently, but today was just beyond the beyond and i can't imagine why anyone would voluntarily choose to wear any fewer than as many layers as they could stand.
3. the other side of the coin, straight-classic chicagoan sang-froid in the face of cold/heart disease/political correctness: the other night when i was running on western, when it was merely eight-ish degrees out, some dude passed me on a bicycle, smoking.
speaking of straight-classic:
Having mastered power trio pop-punk, they speed-read the bible, noting what's fucked and what isn't, why that is and why they give a shit. Spending more time than usual on the words, Hutch Harris abstracts them enough to avoid harangue but not so much that you miss the gist. I'm glad they've chosen thematic ambition over the musical kind, which would have defeated the point of mastering power trio pop-punk in the first place.
finally someone got it right and figured out how to encapsulate the unlikely genius of that great, great record. finally someone did it without stumbling around the "concept album" trope, which is not only inaccurate, but belies how much the album fucking rocks.
god. i feel like every night i have to study corporations is such a waste, because it takes me so damn long, because it's so, so boring. i actually really LIKE payment systems, which objectively sounds worse. (maybe? i guess they both sound pretty bad.) but seriously, i would rather be force-fed glass by paris hilton than read ten pages of this stuff. i will try and make this my last rant about that class, but i'm not promising anything.
* (not mockery, merely illustrative detail. you know i'd have mine, like, surgically implanted if i could.)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment