More Killers lyrics. They were everywhere in this volume. Which leads me to my week with Switchfoot’s album A Beautiful Letdown. I won’t make any title related puns, but know that I want to as it’s very relevant.
I actually knew a lot of the songs on this album. Unsurprisingly. I grew up in the 90s and early 2000s when Christian rock was disguised as popular radio music, and Hoobastank was covered by church bands.
It’s just very pop-y at times, it’s that hard American rock I hate so much at times. And you just know it’s Christian music. Which honestly isn’t a negative in some settings. I think both Emery and Underoath were considered Christian bands at one point and I love both of them. It’s just the kind of Christian music you would hear at a church where they want to seem hip.
Their biggest influence is U2, and if you’ve ever gotten me into a conversation about U2, you know I have strong feelings against them. I can’t help it. It’s just not my jam.
Also relevant to the Killers lyrics I titled this post after, I’m taking on the project of shutting up this week.
That’s right, all you lucky suckers. I’m going to take a week off of complaining and see if my complexion clears up. I know complaining is poisonous. I know it’s not good for you. And, like wine, when overdone it makes people very annoying.
I’ve been complaining a lot this month because I’m totally out of my element and I’m stretching a lot, and though I’m often rather good with change, this change has gone against the grain a little. Which is fine, because I get my normal life back in just a week and a half (I miss you, New York. I’m sorry I ever thought California was the place for me. I know now that when the times comes for me to return back to the US after Europe, I’ll return to you, sweet, stinky New York. Nothing Compares 2U).
I, as many do, know that life is a play dough mix of wild happenstance and bullshit and the best thing you can do is turn your muddled brown blob into a beautiful sculpture of human shit. So that’s what I’ll do this week. Turn my blob into art shit.
Pride was kooky. I waited in line for the bathroom for literally 45 minutes to open a door to a completely full outhouse toilet. I’ve never seen that before, and dear god I hope I never ever do again. It was almost the scariest thing that has happened in my life, and I’ve had shingles twice, was caught up in a drive by shooting, and got my ass kicked by a roommate.
I worked on fourth of July and then Daniele and I went back to that Burmese restaurant I loved so much. It’s definitely my favorite restaurant ever. I’ll be dreaming of that tea leaf salad forever.
If you remember AIDS Walk New York, we go pretty hard for, like, 12 straight days through the event. That starts this Sunday and the Walk is next Sunday. Then I fly back the following Wednesday and finish my week in the New York office. Home! And then a glorious three day weekend (hopefully).
So, I guess I’m trying to say, Myles, rally the troops. We’re beaching HARD that weekend.
Wish me luck and make me pay you a nickel every time I complain this week (though the street goes both ways). Also sorry there are no pictures. Nothing seemed all that relevant. Uh, here: