Tuesday, July 7, 2009

I was pretty sure it was moooooooog....like the cow.

Yesterday, I managed to get all of my old music out of my old computer. I hate to admit it, but somehow Vista came in handy during this. Although I'm pretty sure it fucked up somewhere along the process. Anyway, while I rummaged through all this old music, half of the stuff on there I hardly recognized. It had been so long, and perhaps I never really listened to most of the stuff. Hell, I still don't. So I wonder, "Why do I even have this stuff?". Apparently I just decided to get whatever I thought sounded alright, a whole album maybe, or half of it. Or people gave me them, or whatever. But what's the point of having all this music that you aren't really attached to? Hm, after all this, I briefly begin to question my own motives, as I often do, since I'm pretty sure I'm a lazy biased jackass. But I realize that I wanted all this music, to prove the little fucking individuality I have. There's really no point. After coming up with this conclusion I decided to think no further, since I don't like thinking about things anyway. But, what is our fascination with individuality? There's nothing to it, it really is absolutely nothing. It's a big piece of shit that we like to eat up a lot. Perhaps the less you try, the more "against the grain" you'll become. Although I'd say it's also a damn good marketing plea, along the lines of "you deserve everything because your perfect and how to get exactly what you want" and "your not good enough just yet, but with this and this you can be". Just look at Chuck Taylor Converse, fuck they're the shoe of our fucking generation but people love them anyway. What about all those magazines that tell you how to get your perfect body, or your perfect spouse? Fucking feminists. Although that doesn't mean men aren't dickheads, because well we are.

and so...just like Tegan and Sara this past week have done...I'm back and gone again.


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