Thursday, March 7, 2013

Work Ethic

Why is it that when I'm spending 6 nights a week smoking weed and watching movies with Boyf and generally have long expanses of time when I'm not expected to produce anything or be anywhere in particular I have nothing to say, and then when midterms come around and I'm cramming and sweating and worried I won't know how the terms of trade improve for a large importing nation when a smaller exporting nation changes its tariff policy...THEN I'm awake till the wee hours full of nonsense?

I have tried everything and can't sleep. I played with my hair, I played with my makeup, I cleaned up, I read beauty blogs and feminist blogs and political blogs, I finally listened to "Thrift Shop" all the way through in the name of being at least semi-prepared for Summerfest this year.

Summerfest, or, in the long form, Free Press Summer Fest, is a music festival that started a few years ago here in Houston. It's always the first weekend of June and even though the heat doesn't hit its peak for another couple of months, it always makes you feel like a real pro to make it both days without passing out. A couple years ago I wrote out 10 things you can do to Survive Summerfest, but I can pretty much boil it down to: just keep drinking. Beers, daquiris, mint juleps, anything you can get your hands on. Yes, the alcohol is technically working to dehydrate you further, but the trick is to drink enough in sheer volume that you stay ahead of the curve and are taking in more liquid than you're metabolizing/sweating out. This is actually a two-fold technique because if you really are drinking enough, you get so drunk that you don't mind the heat. I'm being facetious. Don't be an idiot. Drink a lot of water and stay the fuck out of the sun as much as possible unless you want to ruin everyone's vibe by dying. I know you don't want to do that. Nobody likes a vibe-ruiner! Everyone will be like "So sad that he/she died, but why did they have to do it during Summerfest!?"

Speaking of songs I finally got around to listening to: I bought Kitty Pryde's "Okay Cupid" off iTunes a couple days ago and after a few listens that felt like eating 10 bites after you're already really really full just for the sake of cleaning your plate, I have to say I am not sold on it. Possible contributing factors: slow rap does not inspire me on any level, I have nothing but disdain for people who were born after 1990 and this girl sounds and talks like she doesn't remember a time before tweens were showing off their thigh gaps on Tumblr (and then when I went to her Tumblr it was COMPLETELY ILLEGIBLE, and I don't even mean that in a supercilious literary way like she has bad grammar - I didn't even get to the grammar because she just has a really obnoxious background. It's the visual equivalent of that ringtone that people over 25 can't hear), Rolling Stone named it one of the top 50 songs of 2012 and I feel like I haven't loved a contemporary song in 6 years. So a lot of that is the fault of my own preconceived notions but I am too old to be changing my ways now. Congrats on writing a successful thesis on hookup culture or WHATEVER the fuck you're talking about, Kitty, but Jesus that was a test of my endurance. I think this what it's like to be an engaged parent. You go "Tell me about the music you listen to, I want to Relate" and the kid is like "Well I'm really into FRED right now?" so you go look it up because you give a shit and it's just this bullshit

and you're very certain that this isn't art, because you have read a FUCKING BOOK in your life, it's just a spoiled, over-indulged, under-educated child that other over-indulged, under-educated children (like your own, you realize) have latched on to because they're SO shitty that they think this idiocy is compelling, but you have to bite your tongue and go "So I checked out that Fred character and he is really something!" in the best I Am Down With This voice you can muster, even though every atom of you shudders and wants to shriek supersonically until it vomits blood with such force that it is eventually, mercifully, extinguished forever.

I'm going to go listen to Million Dollar Bill on repeat while in the fetal position because this is really exacerbating my I'm a Naturally Formless, Etherial Alien Being Doomed to Live Amongst You Filthy Humans in this Wretched Rotting FleshSacTM problem.

1 comment:

Devon K. said...

Don't despair, there are others who feel the same: