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I don’t like the “Fireman’s Prayer.” I think it’s overly gendered and a little heavy-handed. Don’t even get me started on “Fireman’s” or “children and wife” or “[ful]fill” or, well, I did this on my own. At any rate, here’s the original:

When I am called to duty, God
whenever flames may rage,
give me the strength to save some life
Whatever be its age.

Help me to embrace a little child
before it’s too late,
or some older person
from the horror of that fate.

Enable me to be alert
and hear the weakest shout,
and quickly and efficiently
to put the fire out.

I want to fill my calling
and give the best in me,
to guard my neighbor
and protect his property.

And if according to my fate
I am to lose my life,
Please bless with your protecting hand
my children and my wife.

So here’s a different version where I went for the same sentiment, though seem to have kept some of the more cringe-worthy rhymes. Oh well, first drafts, I guess.

When the tones go off,
Give me the strength,
Give me the focus,
Give me the will,
Give me the resources I need
To be where I need to be,
To dodge that which harms me,
To protect life and property,
To get back to friends and family.

A little less, but still feels a little cringy — maybe I’ll give it another crack sometime. All right, make good decisions out there.

When I think about what reading and writing mean to me, I always think of the word trust.

Whether it’s fiction or nonfiction or poetry or whatever, the relationship between reader and writer is based on a foundation of trust. You hate the sentences, you find a nugget of wisdom, you pen the greatest clause you’ve ever elucidated, you craft the funniest set of puns anyone you know has ever seen–there’s nothing fucking more to it. Both sides of the relationship rely on everyone trusting each other that what they meant is exactly what’s on the page. There could be thirteen or thirty different levels of metaphor involved, but it’s all there because the author has entrusted whatever’s there to the reader.

Which is why taking edits is a difficult but welcome experience. I know full well I miss something in any essay I write, be it an error, a subconscious double entendre, and so on. Maybe my content doesn’t perfectly align with the publication, or maybe I’m still cursing inappropriately like a sailor. So something gets tweaked to improve it until there’s a cohesive piece of material that presents all the pieces you need to put the puzzle together.

Anytime I start reading a novel, that’s what it feels like: settling in as the author starts placing puzzle pieces in front of me, slowly adding enough for me to grasp the entire picture.

And that’s the challenge of editing and copyediting I’ve always enjoyed: the author and I aren’t ready to engage with our readership because we haven’t set everything in place. It’s a kind of silent, hidden craft that painstakingly ensures things like format or spelling don’t distract or confuse, only enhance.

The details matter or there is no trust. If we can’t spell correctly, use an en dash correctly, or whatever the issue may be, then why would you give a shit about anything we write about? We obviously don’t care about getting the words right, so why would you believe any of the content is right?

And sure, no one bats a thousand, but the places that care frequently publish corrections. They still want your trust. A correction is at the very least an apology acknowledging that there was a mistake and we will make sure it never happens again (or as little as possible). We’re staying vigilant because our goal is to provide content you can trust.

And if a company doesn’t trust their readers, I don’t want to work for them.

Full Albums:

  • Baroness, Blue Record1
  • Mastodon, The Hunter
  • Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, The Main Ingredient
  • Rage against the Machine, Rage against the Machine
  • Does it Offend You, Yeah?, Don’t Say We Didn’t Warn You2
Random Excellence:
  • The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, “Y Control”
  • Beastie Boys, “Bodhisattva Vow”3
  • Money Making Jam Boys, “Contract the World”
  • Nas, “Sly Fox”
  • Left Lane Cruiser, “Waynedale”

Songs of the Week:

  • Friendly Fires, “Blue Cassette”
  • Royksopp, “Vision One”
  • Miike Snow, “Silvia”
  • Kelly Clarkson, “Impossible”
  • Kasabian, “The Doberman”

Reviews:

1. I listened to this at work so I can’t tell you what the lyrics are about, but I assume it’s fairies, demons, and stuff. What I can tell you is these riffs are delicious. Nearly every song starts feeling like a trick: “What? Acoustic guitar on a metal album? Ugh, there’s no way this will turn out well.”  But then every song turns out okay. Every single time. Incredible riffage.

2. The title’s kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy, if they were warning you about how terrible this album was going to be. Not a single enjoyable song. Which is incredibly difficult for me to believe, considering how much I love their debut album.

3. You will be missed Nathanial Hörnblowér, but you will live on.

Comment:

I’ve had a week of serious ups and downs that kind of put me into a mild existential crisis in the last four hours or so.

At work I had days where my productivity was unparalleled, where I felt like I did everything right. At the same time, I was storing up a whole lot of frustration. I think it was Wednesday when I remembered my grandma, apparently, used to just vent all of her anger with someone at once in some terrifying anger storm that the targets frequently couldn’t understand because her ire covered everything between 5 minutes and 5 years. So I think I started chipping away at that frustration by actually talking. Stupid, right? All I needed to do was send another email. Of course, there aren’t any lingering problems (I know of), I was just being a dumbass and everything started sorting itself out with some communication.

I also saw a scary movie for the first time in years. Well, even that’s hard to say because The Cabin in the Woods isn’t really a scary movie as much as a smart movie about scary movies. It’s incredibly funny and insightful. There are so many reasons for me to not write anything else about it and just tell you to just go see it. It’s just a good movie, and liking a (mostly?) scary movie confuses me.

I even realized I don’t think I like drinking holidays anymore: your St. Patrick’s Days, Cinco De Mayos, etc. There are already enough drunk idiots stumbling around Manhattan without me. My greatest urge on Saturday wasn’t to do all the tequila shots I could find, but to take a nap. Sure, I had a (belated birthday) margarita or two, but my night ended at about 9. Hangovers are the worst and I have no reason to bury myself in them.

And then I looked back on my finances. My habits haven’t really changed, but somehow everything has changed. I’m paying less for everything in theory, but I think the hectic nature of moving and sharing a birthday week with both of my roommates placed me outside my comfort zone. A lot of things have changed for the better since moving: my gym schedule, my commute, my outlook. Yet, I still feel a weird pull, deep in some forgotten part of a murmuring ventricle, to be at home, just catching up on some project that I, and I alone, care about. Maybe I’ll wrap myself up in a book, magazine, TV show or comforting game; whatever it is, it’s nowhere near anyone.

Which is ridiculous because I have those stupid hangovers from  staying out too late to keep hanging out with my friends. Or maybe because I don’t like alternating water and tasty beverages? My theory seems slightly off and highly unfounded, but I can definitively say that the sum of it all was both supremely awesome and surprisingly uncomfortable.

So, even though the next three weeks are typically the craziest weeks of the entire year at work, I guess I’ll try to focus more on what’s better for that ventricle pang. I don’t want to be selfish, but I think I break if my heart does too, so I probably need to focus on some weird compromise where I get to be as social as draped in apartment.

I’m under the impression I’m way better at prioritizing tasks than friends and it’s finally starting to get the best of me.

To perhaps simplify last year’s resolutions a little, I hereby resolve to:

  • Construct a list of every questionable grammar rule, homophone or definition that gives me any kind of trouble. I’m talking about the difference between lay and lie, double check and double-check (would you believe one’s a verb and the other’s a noun? Totally not interchangeable. You can pick your brains up from the floor at your convenience), each other and one another, that and which, lay and lie, etc. This way, presumably, I’ll have to look them up a whole lot less.
  • Make a concerted effort to figure out how many hours of sleep I really need to function. I’m suspicious that 7 isn’t enough and that more than 9 is too much unless I’m catching up on sleep I’ve lost all week. Wherever that sweet spot is (say, if I really do need a full 9 hours of sleep), I want to get there so work requires less awake juice and I can get back to liking coffee because it’s delicious.
  • Double-check (‘sup!?!) my work before I tweet, text or send an email I’ve typed on my phone. I have a bad habit of typing it all, hitting the send button, reading it over, and realizing there’s at least one error (and it’s not Autocorrect’s fault).
  • Read on the subway. Last year I might’ve read two books in my spare time. That’s ridiculous. I still have a stack of unread magazines that date back to April. It’s embarrassing. Realistically, I won’t be reading my magazine collection on the subway, I’m just citing a very specific example of why my life in general needs more reading time.

Full Albums:

  • Adele, 1988 and 211
  • The Afghan Whigs, Unbreakable
  • Fleetwood Mac, Rumours
  • Girl Talk, All Day
  • The Hold Steady, Boys and Girls in America and Separation Sunday
  • Jay-Z, Hard Knock Life, Vol. 2
  • Ladyhawke, Ladyhawke
  • M83, Saturdays = Youth
  • Miike Snow, Miike Snow2
  • Money Making Jam Boys, The Prestige
  • Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Mecca & The Soul Brother
  • Queens of the Stone Age, Era Vulgaris
  • The Rolling Stones, Exile on Main St. (Deluxe Edition)
  • Say Anything, In Defense of the Genre
  • The Sheepdogs, Learn and Burn3
  • The-Dream, Love vs. Money

Random Excellence:

  • The Wildbirds, “421 (Everybody Loves You)”
  • The Police, “Voices inside my Head”
  • Lauryn Hill, “Every Ghetto, Every City”
  • Daft Punk, “Voyager”
  • The Heavy, “How You like Me Now?

Songs of the Week:

  • Yelle, “Amour Du Sol”
  • Raekwon, “Criminology”
  • GZA, “Alphabets”
  • Kings of Leon, “King of the Rodeo”
  • Gym Class Heroes, “Cookie Jar (Feat. The-Dream)”

Reviews:

1. Adele had a seriously excellent week (at least in terms of my listenership).

One of my friends from my old internship finally convinced me to sign up for datpiff.com and it has opened a whole new world of music to me. I’ve seriously been terrified of mix tapes for a while because 1. literally anyone can make them, which guarantees no level of quality, and, 2. they are that new frontier, that freaky, uncharted ground of music that contains anything from shitty raps by great rappers to incredible music from people who will never be heard from again.

After chatting with my friend about our long history of loving the same music (The-Dream, Adele, Lil Wayne, etc.), he finally convinced me to download the 1988 mixtape since it contains two things we both love: Adele’s incredible voice and beats from rap’s heyday. (Her first album was 19 so they obviously get endless admiration for their mixtape titling skills.)

And the greatness doesn’t end there–she released 21 recently, to pretty much everyone’s great joy. I don’t want to overstep my bounds but I think it sounds a lot better than her first album. I think she’s singing the pants right off of these songs.

2. The hardest part about this album was first discovering it at my retail-type job and the second hardest part was realizing all the best songs on the album have already been beaten into my cranium ad nauseum thanks to my retail-type job. Having this album is just a way to satiate my twitches when I’m fiending for some otherworldly Swedish electropop with weird fucking titles like, “A Horse is not a Home.” I’m not entirely convinced I’ve missed the metaphor on that song in particular–it genuinely sounds like a bunch of Swedish dudes who speak English as a second language and meant “house” but went with “horse.” But, like all of the songs I don’t enjoy because they haven’t been beaten into my head, I could be wrong.

3. The only thing that made this album sound like it wasn’t recorded 30 years ago was when he sang something about Facebook. I think someone dug this up out of a time capsule and decided to tell everyone they recorded it three to six months ago. Which is to say, the music is plain old phenomenal, although I am sincerely worried that the lyrical content is lacking–I have to revisit these hot tracks to verify my original thesis that their vocalist did indeed mention some Internet thing called The Facebook.

Comment:

I glanced over some old twim recently and realized I might have misspoken about my intentions to keep listening to some of the stuff I reviewed only halfheartedly.

Things like Janelle Monae, Warpaint and Toro y Moi are definitely good, but my problem is that I’m currently in a state of heavy flux and I rely upon my music to belay my anchor. While I’m walking to the new job where I average about two face palms a day, the last thing I want to have to think about is the important messages and worlds Janelle has crafted: it is just so much easier to sink into “Ventilator Blues,” “Dreams” or “Southtown Girls” and the “1234, 12, fill, chorus 234, solo” feeling I already know and love from multiple listens. I need that feeling to keep me grounded, to keep me normal even though I know I should be experimenting and trying more new music (i.e, reexamining something I was not too hot on during the first listen).

So they call these devil-worshipping, mindless, seemingly needless overnight events “floorsets.” Floorsets feel like they should be illegal but they’re not; people work in 24-hour restaurants, the MTA does the majority of its construction at night and on the weekends. Why can’t a serious, career-oriented industry like retail–the leftover of industries, the jobs so available that people with master’s degrees can flock to them to get harassed and insulted by teens without a high school diploma–lay claim to every waking hour of your life? They gave you sweet benefits like a 30% discount on stuff neither you nor anyone in your family wears and one of the least impressive 401ks in the history of 401ks.

I guess my greatest issue with floorsets is that if they’re so important why are there like ten people fixing an entire store? In a time where every manager says, “Yes, we’re hiring” and we’re theoretically expanding, why wouldn’t we bum rush the show with like 30 people and get it done in three or four hours instead of eight? On top of that, why do the people scheduled for eight hours get to leave while everyone else has to stay? I finished my projects in around seven hours, but one of my coworkers’ projects was yet to be finished when I was done, so I started helping out.

Not to digress, but these floorsets are generally the most aggravating parts of an aggravating industry: heavy labor and misdirection compounded by the fact that it’s all being done when any normal person would be asleep or on some sort of self-induced and assuredly awesome drug binge. The best way to cap off your MLKJr Day? Trying to figure out what the fuck corporate was thinking when they mailed you these misguided, mismatched diagrams; not only do they not have the same amount of shelving units, but they also don’t have the same products on one diagram as we do on our shelves. So you waste like an hour matching up diagrams and creating something that kinda looks like your smattering of schematics while trying to move as little product as possible because it all weighs so much. Of course, the best part is thinking back to the last floorset and remembering that the products that are getting moved are getting moved back to where they used to be.

Say you’ve been working for nine hours, just lifting boxes and solving puzzles that aren’t even fun. The last thing you want to hear is that you can’t–and this will come as a shock, knowing that I’m a heterosexual male–tie a bow correctly. So you learn how corporate wants bows tied. You do that. But you keep finding other things that need to be moved, products in understock, products from the backroom and all you wanted was some help from that guy who left three hours ago. I presume his bow-tying skills must have been so sub-par that he could neither be taught nor tolerated.

Then you find out the other guys who came in this morning  (your night?) stacked all the storage bins on top of each other, just four solid stacks all standing upright, on one handtruck. For some reason, they were surprised when it all fell over in the middle of the street. So you tell them it would have made more sense to use short stacks laid horizontally on top of each other instead, but in your panic you just stack it back the same way because it snowed earlier then started–and is still–raining. Your gloves are done because some of these bins are at least three inches deep in slush and you still have to go about a quarter of a mile to get to the storage unit, holding the bins so they don’t fall the whole way. Anything to get out of this weather and these hallucinations. There’s even more than one handtruck and you stand shin-deep in water in order to make sure each one gets over curbs.

Back in the store, someone from corporate is there and thinks you look terrible like all wet like that. What happened? You have no words and the rumblings of a cough deep in your chest. Wrench your socks over the men’s bathroom toilet–totally worth it, good going. You tie another gay bow and, since none of the seven or eight managers will respond when you ask, “Do you need help with anything?” leave. Try to find breakfast at three different fast food joints because, wait what time is it? Stop lying, new hippo friend.

Warm up a little on the subway and then freeze to death on the walk back to the apartment as the wind picks up and permeates your lovely soaking pants and shoes. Walk into your building about 14 hours after you left it, just a little after noon. Discover a diminutive mail lady filling the boxes, ponder how to get your mail and start reaching in for the kill. Your hand gets smacked away as if you had been a third grader reaching for the class bunny during petting time and receive an awesome scolding to the tune of, “No. You have to wait until I’m done.” Because it is your burning desire, your sole reason for being, to read someone else’s Valpak. Without hesitation, walk away, consider burning your work clothes and sleep until midnight.

Wonder how the hell you’re supposed to get to work 10 hours after you woke up, try to go back to sleep, end up sleeping for an hour and a half, return to the promised land. That night, sleep for another 15 hours and nurse your magnificent cough and college degree.

Full Albums:

  • The Black Keys, Brothers
  • Booker T. & The MG’s, Green Onions1
  • Broken Bells, Broken Bells2
  • Eagles of Death Metal, Peace Love Death Metal3
  • Fall Out Boy, From Under the Cork Tree
  • Ghostface Killah, Apollo Kids4
  • Jay-Z, Hard Knock Life, Vol. 2
  • M83, Saturdays=Youth
  • Metric, Fantasies5
  • Mumford & Sons, Sigh No More6
  • Pearl Jam, Vs.
  • The Roots, The Tipping Point
  • The-Dream, Love Hate and Love Vs. Money
  • A Tribe Called Quest, Beats Rhymes & Life
  • The xx, xx

Random Excellence:

  • Massive Attack, “Angel”
  • Wu Tang Clan Vs. The Beatles, “Daytona 500”
  • Ludacris, “Hip Hop Quotables”
  • The Cure, “Torture”
  • The Clash, “Career Opportunities”7

Songs of the Week:

  • M83, “Kim and Jessie” and “We Own the Sky”
  • Broken Bells, “The Ghost Inside”
  • Booker T. & The MG’s, “Green Onions” and “Twist and Shout”

Reviews:

1. Sometimes I felt like the organ was a little too high in the mix, then I remembered that Booker T. was playing it. I call dibs on them for my back-up band when I get signed…if they’re alive still…

2. They have a saying around these parts: Danger Mouse can bring out the best in you. But sometimes, there’s not so much there that I would want to stay. Also, if they’re talking about a follow up album, my prediction is it’ll happen, get so-so reviews and be disbanded a la Gnarls Barkley.

3. This band kind of puzzles me despite my growing love for them. This was probably their best album despite the fact that their songs get better with each album. Which is to say, this is their best album but some of the songs on their newer albums are way better; however, it’s only some of the songs. The strength of the few good songs on the new albums outweigh the strength of the original album. Perhaps they’ll surprise me on their next album and have their most cohesive and thoroughly awesome album yet.

4. NEEDS MORE GZA. Maybe some more songs, too; not quite an LP, definitely not an EP.

5. Really good stuff, but I hate that my place of employment decided that, too and decided to play them to no end. So I was familiar with a lot of the songs on first listen, but I also kinda hated a lot of these songs on first listen.

6. I’m worried they’re going to be a one-hit wonder: “Little Lion Man” stands above the rest of the album pretty definitively and deals with some of the major themes better than the rest of the album can. It’s not a terrible album, but I’ll admit it does kind of sound the same to me right now.

7. Who let The Clash get so goddamned right? Whoever you are, thank you.

Comment:

I have to do an overnight tonight (Monday) so if I respond snappily or decide not to hang out with you in the next, oh, seven days or so, I apologize in advance on behalf of both myself and my inexorable, unexplainable inability to attain new employment. At least I have an interview on Friday! See you later!

(Caution: After Tuesday, the last three sentences will probably appear as the following: “I’m not sorry. You know what’s sorry? The store I work for. Maybe I can get out of that place by Friday. Whatever, bye.”)

So I kind of got a little overambitious last year. To resolve that, I think I’m going to carry over some resolutions that didn’t get addressed and some things that need to keep happening because I still haven’t fixed this, “I still work in retail despite a Mensa membership, Bachelor’s Degree in Mathematics and English and a ridiculous resume,” thing.

I hereby resolve to:

  • Learn how to play at least one Robert Johnson song.
  • Compliment women.
  • Drink less coffee and get more sleep.
  • Get back in shape.

New edition: I hereby resolve to:

  • Play guitar, even when not drunk. Additionally, learn new scales and practice old scales.
  • Start writing applications during the week, not just putting them off until the weekend. Because this job search needs to end. Now. Not Saturday. Now.
  • Find a coffee shop. When people ask me about New York they ask two things: 1. “Do you see a lot of shows?” No, don’t give a shit. That’s why then invented movies and CDs. 2. “What’s your favorite cafe?” Don’t have one, I’m too busy loving Zabar’s coffee. For a while I was a Fairway guy until I discovered Zabar’s. Even my dad likes it and that guy drinks like five cups a day–he kind of knows coffee. But now I will try to find a good coffee place besides my apartment–or Starbucks.
  • Three, maybe four parts vanilla or chocolate ice cream–frequently both flavors
  • One part milk–in some cases just a splash
  • Big ‘ol gob of chocolate syrup

Mix all that shit up, drink it. This has been my personal crack for the last three days. I expect to either gain between five and ten pounds or, as a result of extended and strenuous work days involving lots of heavy lifting, to be roughly the same.

But happier.

Full Albums:

  • Alicia Keys, As I Am1
  • Ghostface Killah, Supreme Clientele
  • Gym Class Heroes, The Quilt2
  • Massive Attack, Mezzanine3
  • Robyn, Body Talk, Pt. 2
  • Royskopp, Junior
  • Talking Heads, Popular Favorites 1976-1992: Sand In The Vaseline4
  • The-Dream, Love King (Deluxe Edition)
  • Thin Lizzy, Dedication (The Very Best of Thin Lizzy)5
  • Wale, Attention Deficit
  • Warpaint, Exquisite Corpse6

Random Excellence:

  • The Knux, “F!re (Put it in the Air)”
  • Porcupine Tree, “What Happens Now”
  • Nine Inch Nails, “HYPERPOWER!”
  • Lykke Li, “Complaint Department”
  • David Bowie, “Modern Love”

Songs of the Week:

  • Gym Class Heroes, “Cookie Jar”
  • LCD Soundsystem, “Dance Yrself Clean”

Reviews:

1. First and foremost, I bought this album for my mom for Christmas off the strength of “No One.” My mom loves female vocalists where the focus is completely on the vocals: Babs, Mariah Carey’s Christmas album, Celine Dion, etc. What I didn’t realize at the time (because I hadn’t listened to more than just “No One”) was that Alicia can fucking sing but she can also tickle the fucking ivories. The problem here is that she plays a mean piano as well as sings the pants off of songs–the music is too much a part of the singing for my mom. Uh, plus it’s not really white-people music; which is to say, I love it because it’s R&B, well sung, well played, well collaborated, and just plain old well executed. So for me, it’s amazing even thought it’s kind of foreign for my mom. To get to the point, I listen to this album and read the reviews thinking, “Really? Four stars out of five? This can only be because we all hold Alicia to a greater standard. This album compared to most music is a six, but compared to Alicia its about a 4.5. It’s debating good versus great for an entire album.”

2. Major themes seem to be that Travie wants to be monogamous but just keeps hitting on chicks. Which is great, but The-Dream is far more decisive about that and thus the only two songs I like on this album are “Cookie Jar” and “Catch Me if you Can.” Oddly, “Kissing Ears” also features The-Dream (yes, I know “Catch Me if you Can” doesn’t) but is kind of a let-down. That song has the same problem that most of the album does: what the fuck is this hook and why is it happening so much? Really? You’re into kissing ears? I’m all about the lips.A I’ve been known to kiss ears on occasion, but in my opinion nothing has ever truly shown your appreciation of your significant other like a kiss on the lips.

3. If I was into drugs, I would be a huge fan of this album. Since I am not, I like “Angel” and “Black Milk.”

4. I talked with my dad about this. I told him, “I think they win. They win at music.” We had a chat about how they’re one of those bands that has made some songs that everyone loves. In my opinion they (art school graduates) have crafted songs that are true art because they reveal something that not only resonates with people but also reveals something new with each visit. For example, in our chat, my dad quoted “Psycho Killer” to one of his colleagues: “I hate it when people are not polite.” As recently as three days ago, this was a lyric that I had not yet listened to enough for it to register personally. But when dad mentioned it in his story about his friend, it came up in my next listen: BOOM. Classic: simple yet refined; elegant, terse, eloquent.

This is about to be the first multiple-paragraph twim review; it makes sense because these guys might have invented music after the eighties.

I started listening to them again because I was at a friend’s birthday party and he put “This Must be the Place (Naive Melody)” on the jukebox and something snapped in the back of my mind: “My God. I’ve loved these guys since I was a kid. Playing Stop Making Sense in dad’s Peugot when I was, what, ten? I could never figure out the lyrics but I loved the melodies from the moment I heard them.” So I started listening again. And they win.

5. Hits and misses. I know they’re great but their Greatest Hits album isn’t entirely great: the great songs are great and some other stuff is good. I get that they were one of the originators of the twin-guitar attack matched with poetic lyrics yet the songs that hit and hit hardest are the songs that just repeat awesome choruses. I’m aware of the irony considering my here-enclosed Gym Class Heroes review, but you do realize they’re Thin Lizzy and the other dudes are Gym Class Heroes, right? Thin motherfucking Lizzy versus Gym Class Heroes. It goes back to that Alicia Keys argument: it’s arguing greatness versus generally okay.

6. The kids are alright, but I imagine if I’d been the producer I probably would have said, after every song, “This is great…but can we tighten it up? It’s a 30-minute EP with only five songs.  You’re very, very talented but I want an album that isn’t averaging 6 minutes per song: you can’t sell that shit. America wants 3 minute songs. America has the attention span of a four-year old. Get to the point. Make it rock? Yes. Experiment? Yes. Guitars? Yes. Cool lyrics? Yes. Seven-minute songs? No.”

Comment:

More sorry than usual that this was very late. It’s the season where everyone around me is suddenly sick so I freaked out and bought Vitamin C, Zyrtec, 12-hour Sudafed, Chloraseptic, Benadryl and Zicam. As a result, I have no idea if I’m actually sick, but I sometimes sleep poorly and spend my day exhausted. It doesn’t help that the only place paying me is retail, a wondrous place where all of a sudden I’m back on the scheduleB–a place where 95% of my job is lifting things and the rest is placating managers or answering stupid questions from customers. So if I wasn’t sick, my back would hurt anyway. And so I lost track of my heart, my blog–I forgot what was important to me.

Damn you, Fall. You ain’t got shit on Winter.

A. BOOM! DOUBLE ENTENDRE.

B. Because I’m good at stuff. Seriously, ask me to do something I’ve never done before, give me about an hour and there’s a 95% chancei I’ll be better at it than you. However, give me something to do that I’ve been doing for over 2 years with nary a challenge? I will be underwhelmed, unimpressed, vacant and probably hateful. I regret that. I love challenges but I hate monotony. Grammar? Perpetual challenge and ever-developing debate. Beauty products? Same place, different day, different dumbasses.

i. Turns out 95% of all statistics are made up on the spot.

Post Script: The wait was worth it, amirite? There is neither joke nor addendum here. I salute you for checking in and waiting.