Saturday, January 12, 2013

Unleash the ear worm!

Couldn't sleep all that well last night. I blame it all on unfortunate music choices. That and on my cats, who have gotten in the habit of pestering me around 4 until I finally get up and give them the kind of cat food they want (if I guess wrong, the annoyances do not stop until I get back up again).

So there was this weird, yet cheerful song getting totally overplayed about the time I filed my dissertation, and it got so I really hated it. But a few days ago I had this weird nostalgic longing for it and tried to go look it up. Now, not remembering the name of the group or the title and only a vague line about fucking like the stars meant that trying to search for it was, um, challenging --- and you could imagine the search results I was getting.

I thought it was on the Juno soundtrack and discovered that people are putting up entire albums on youtube these days (thanks youtube people!) ---- but it was not. And I learned I did not like the Juno soundtrack. I do not approve of the moldy peaches, or anyone who sings off key whether for ironic or unavoidable reasons. I can't keep my pitch on track --- that's why I don't go sing. Why would I be a fan of someone else's lack of skill?

So anyway, the song:

I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life.
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars.
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.

This is our decision, to live fast and die young.
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.
Yeah, it's overwhelming, but what else can we do.
Get jobs in offices, and wake up for the morning commute.

Forget about our mothers and our friends
We're fated to pretend
To pretend
We're fated to pretend
To pretend

I'll miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms
I'll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world
I'll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home
Yeah, I'll miss the boredom and the freedom and the time spent alone.

There's really nothing, nothing we can do
Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew.
The models will have children, we'll get a divorce
We'll find some more models, everything must run it's course.

We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the end
We were fated to pretend
To pretend
We're fated to pretend
To pretend

Yeah, yeah, yeah

 I was going to find some parallels with this thinking and the bohemian anti-get-a-job sentiment and the foolishness of going to grad school/academia as a way of avoiding the mundanity of working life, but then I saw this:

Holy shit! Somebody read Lord of the Flies and then took a lotta drugs before making this. It's kind of mesmerizing. My Saturday morning gift to you.

Just be careful --- that melody won't let you sleep at night.

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